Molyneux and the Objectivist Tradition 2

UPB 2: Foundationalism and logic. Central to Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism is the largely unsubstantiated assertion that the “objectivity of reality,” along with human knowledge in general, require “validation”; and that in the absence of this validation, human beings become cognitively helpless and hence defenseless against power-lusting authoritarians. Once, however, knowledge is properly “validated,” the masses of people in the civilized world will once again regard their senses, their “reason,” and their minds as reliable guides to reality, which will lead them to embrace “rational” moral and political ideals (i.e., Objectivism).

Ayn Rand & Epistemology 9

Necessary validity of the senses. Objectivism has a rather strange doctrine which could be summed up as "the senses never err." Percepts are "the given, the self-evident." [IOTE, 5] The validity of the senses is "axiomatic." Those that attempt to deny this validity commit the "fallacy of the stolen concept." As Peikoff explains:

The validity of the senses is not an independent axiom; it is a corollary of the fact of consciousness.... If man is conscious of that which is, then his means of awareness are means of awareness, i.e., are valid. One cannot affirm consciousness while denying its primary form, which makes all the others possible. Just as any attack on consciousness negates itself, so does any attack on the senses. If the senses are not valid, neither are any concepts, including the ones used in the attack. [OPAR, ch. 2]

This is a very poor argument. Indeed, most of Rand's "stolen concept" arguments, particularly those relating to epistemology, are very poor. All "attacks" on the senses are ultimately attacks against the view that knowledge refers to something "out there," in "reality." Such attacks cannot be regarded as claims of knowledge; rather, they are radical denials of all knowledge. Although such denials are not true, they are not self-contradictory. But even if they were self-contradictory, it would not help Rand's case. Merely because someone makes a bad argument against x does not prove that x is "necessarily valid." Bad arguments against the validity of the senses cannot be used to establish the validity of the senses!

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 19

Alternatives to Foundationalism. Whenever the Objectivist mania for “validating” such things as “reality,” “causality,” “man’s mind,” “the senses,” “reason,” “concepts,” and “morality” is subjected to criticism, sooner or later somebody will come forward and suggest that without such validation, how can we know anything? If the skeptic is not refuted, how can he be prevented from wreaking havoc within society, and sending civilization over the brink?

Ironically, this challenge was laid to rest over two centuries ago by the philosopher often most associated with extreme skepticism, David Hume:

For here is the chief and most confounding objection to excessive scepticism, that no durable good can ever result from it; while it remains in its full force and vigour. We need only ask such a sceptic, What his meaning is? And what he proposes by all these curious researches? He is immediately at a loss, and knows not what to answer. A Copernican or Ptolemaic, who supports each his different system of astronomy, may hope to produce a conviction, which will remain constant and durable, with his audience. A Stoic or Epicurean displays principles, which may not be durable, but which have an effect on conduct and behaviour. But a Pyrrhonian cannot expect, that his philosophy will have any constant influence on the mind: or if it had, that its influence would be beneficial to society. On the contrary, he must acknowledge, if he will acknowledge anything, that all human life must perish, were his principles universally and steadily to prevail. All discourse, all action would immediately cease; and men remain in a total lethargy, till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end to their miserable existence. It is true; so fatal an event is very little to be dreaded. Nature is always too strong for principle. And though a Pyrrhonian may throw himself or others into a momentary amazement and confusion by his profound reasonings; the first and most trivial event in life will put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and leave him the same, in every point of action and speculation, with the philosophers of every other sect, or with those who never concerned themselves in any philosophical researches. When he awakes from his dream, he will be the first to join in the laugh against himself, and to confess, that all his objections are mere amusement, and can have no other tendency than to show the whimsical condition of mankind, who must act and reason and believe; though they are not able, by their most diligent enquiry, to satisfy themselves concerning the foundation of these operations, or to remove the objections, which may be raised against them.

Santayana expanded on this theme in his Scepticism and Animal Faith, which is one of the most thorough critiques of foundationalism to date. Pursing doubt to its ultimate end, Santayana challenges self-consciousness, discourse, logic, change, memory and time. In doing so, he goes well beyond Descartes’ doubts to discover the ultimate certainty, the perusal of a passing datum, a mere instance of awareness. This “solipsism of the present moment,” Santayana concludes, cannot possibly be a bedrock of certainty, because it does not constitute knowledge. It is the awareness of a given without a basis for belief. Knowledge does not arise until intelligence arrives on the scene and connects these instances of awareness into larger, meaningful wholes, which can then be interpreted as symbols of a posited, external reality existing in time and space. Since this exercise of intelligence is not given, why then should it be trusted? Santayana answers “by animal presumption, positing whatever object instinct is materially predisposed to cope with, as in hunger, love, fighting, or the expectation of the future.” In other words, it is by an instinct, which Santayana calls “animal faith.” But this animal faith is by no means an entirely groundless or “arbitrary” inclination, but one which is tested and corroborated during every moment when intelligence holds dominion over our lives.

Critical to Santayana’s view is the notion that some views are biologically inevitable, so that philosophers who deny them are not being altogether sincere. “I should be ashamed to countenance opinions which, when not arguing, I did not believe,” he insists. Some beliefs are inevitable because they have been bred in us by evolution (or by “nature,” if you prefer). These are beliefs that are associated with successful action, which is often the best test of truth. For Santayana, while the nature of truth is correspondence, the test of truth is pragmatic. This is a different orientation than what is found in Objectivism, which, in relation to these issues, often equivocates between rationalistic speculation (e.g., the Objectivist axioms) and an extreme empiricism (e.g., basing all knowledge on the “evidence” of the senses). But the ultimate raison d’être of knowledge is to cope with animal needs; and so whatever knowledge best satisfies these needs, which leads to successful action and solves the most problems in the real world, is that knowledge which most likely has the stamp of truth about it.

Santayana concludes as follows:

Living when human faith is again in a state of dissolution, I have imitated the Greek sceptics in calling doubtful everything that, in spite of common sense, any one can possibly doubt. But since life and even discussion forces me to break away from a complete scepticism, I have determined not to do so surreptitiously nor at random, ignominiously taking cover now behind one prejudice and now behind another. Instead, I have frankly taken nature by the hand, accepting as a rule in my farthest speculations the animal faith I live by from day to day. There are many opinions which, though questionable, are inevitable to a thought attentive to appearance, and honestly expressive of action. These natural opinions are not miscellaneous, such as those which the Sophists embraced in disputation. They are superposed in a biological order, the stratification of the life of reason. In rising out of passive intuition, I pass, by a vital constitutional necessity, to belief in discourse, in experience, in substance, in truth, and in spirit. All these objects may conceivably be illusory. Belief in them, however, is not grounded on a prior probability, but all judgements of probability are grounded on them. They express a rational instinct or instinctive reason, the waxing faith of an animal living in a world which he can observe and sometimes remodel.

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 18

Foundationalism 101. Foundationalism, in the words of philosopher Rob Bass, is “one of a number of views that holds that knowledge has foundations, that there are privileged starting points for knowledge, that justification runs uni-directionally from foundations to superstructure, that nothing is justified unless it is connected in the right way to the foundations…. I consider [foundationalism] deeply confused and, though most foundationalists did not so intend, an invitation to skepticism.”

Rand’s version of foundationalism is particularly virulent, because of her obsession with “validating” knowledge. She even went so far as to suggest, at least implicitly, that the fate of civilization itself rested on “validating” knowledge. As Peikoff, speaking for Rand, put it:

As long as men remain ignorant of their basic mental process, they have no answer to the charge, leveled by mysticism and skepticism alike, that their mental content is some form of revelation or invention detached from reality. This kind of viewpoint can go into remission for a while,…however if it is not burned out of men’s souls completely by an explicit philosophical theory, it becomes the most virulent of cancers; it metastatizes to every branch of philosophy and every department of culture, as is now evident throughout the world. Then the best among men become paralyzed by doubt; while the others turn into mindless hordes that march in any irrationalist era looking for someone to rule them. [OPAR, 88]

Is there any evidence to back up these extraordinary assertions? Peikoff contends that his claims are “now evident throughout the world.” Really? If so, why doesn’t he give any specific examples? How many people, in point of fact, are bothered one jot by their inability to answer the charge that their mental content is “detached from reality”? Has Peikoff or any of his Objectivist cohorts ever thought to put this contention to the test? Where, exactly, are all these people “paralyzed by doubt”? While occasionally one comes across a genuine doubt-engorged skeptic (and, a little more often, people who pretend to be skeptics), the default position for most people inclines more toward a dogmatism of one kind or another, often veering toward intransigence. Skepticism, when one does stumble across it, is more often a pose, a debating trick used to attack rival dogmatisms. It is simply in the nature of most human beings to believe. As Santayana noted, the problem with skepticism is not that it is illogical or inconsistent, but that its difficult to maintain in the face of the natural demands of the psyche. Hunger, thirst, fear, love, vanity all conspire against maintaining an unbreached skepticism (and remaining "paralyzed by doubt"). Therefore, to inveigh against it in the manner of Rand and Peikoff is to tilt against imaginary windmills.




If (per impossible) the Rand/Peikoff paranoia against skepticism were justified, foundationalism would still be wrong. Foundationalism rests on the assumption that knowledge can ultimately be justified based on certain “self-evident” beliefs (e.g., like the Objectivist axioms). But, as I have explained in an earlier post in this series, “nothing is self-evident,” not even the Objectivist axioms.

Some thirty years before Rand formulated her axiom of existence, Santayana had refuted the idea that existence can be taken as a self-evident given.

Assurance of existence expresses animal watchfulness : it posits, within me and round me, hidden and imminent events. The sceptic can easily cast a doubt on the remoter objects of this belief ; and nothing but a certain obduracy and want of agility prevents him from doubting present existence itself. For what could present existence mean, if the imminent events for which animal sense is watching failed altogether, failed at the very roots, so to speak, of the tree of intuition, and left nothing but its branches flowering in vacuo? Expectation is admittedly the most hazardous of beliefs : yet what is watchfulness but expectation? Memory is notoriously full of illusion ; yet what would experience of the present be if the veracity of primary memory were denied, and if I no longer believed that anything had just happened, or that I had ever been in the state from which I suppose myself to have passed into this my present condition?

The point Santayana is make here is subtle but important. The notion of existence only becomes coherent and meaningful within the context of animal sense and memory, neither of which are self-evident or given. You cast doubt on those, and the axiom “existence exists” becomes a meaningless, raving tautology.

Santayana, however, has more arguments against the self-evidence of existence:

Existence…, not being included in any immediate datum, is a fact always open to doubt. I call it a fact notwithstanding, because in talking about the sceptic I am positing his existence. If he has any intuition, however little the theme of that intuition may have to do with any actual world, certainly I who think of his intuition, or he himself thinking of it afterwards, see that this intuition of his must have been an event, and his existence at that time a fact ; but like all facts and events, this one can be known only by an affirmation which posits it, which may be suspended or reversed, and which is subject to error. Hence all this business of intuition may perfectly well be doubted by the sceptic : the existence of his own doubt (however confidently I may assert it for him) is not given to him then : all that is given is some ambiguity or contradiction in images ; and if afterwards he is sure that he has doubted, the sole cogent evidence which that fact can claim lies in the psychological impossibility that, so long as he believes he has doubted, he should not believe it. But he may be wrong in harbouring this belief, and he may rescind it. For all an ultimate scepticism can see, therefore, there may be no facts at all, and perhaps nothing has ever existed.

Scepticism may thus be carried to the point of denying change and memory, and the reality of all facts. Such a sceptical dogma would certainly be false, because this dogma itself would have to be entertained, and that event would be a fact and the sceptic in framing that dogma discourses, vacillates, and lives in the act of contrasting one assertion with another all of which is to exist with a vengeance. Yet this false dogma that nothing exists is tenable intuitively and, while it prevails, is irrefutable….

For the wayward sceptic, who regards it as no truer than any other view, it also has some utility : it accustoms him to discard the dogma which an introspective critic might be tempted to think self-evident, namely, that he himself lives and thinks. That he does so is true ; but to establish that truth he must appeal to animal faith. If he is too proud for that, and simply stares at the datum, the last thing he will see is himself.

Two main points in all of this. The first involves Rand’s contention that everything has an identity. In the sense of self-evidence, of what is given in consciousness, identity holds no warrant of truth and therefore is irrelevant. What has identity is merely some datum. And the experience of a mere datum tells us nothing about the world or existence. It is not until we assume that we live in a world existing in time and space and that we have minds that can think, remember, and conclude that the Objectivist axioms can make any sense at all. Yet none of these assumptions about the world—these foundational assumptions upon which even Rand’s self-evident axioms ultimately rest—are themselves self-evident.

The second point Santayana makes is easily misunderstood. The skeptic, Santayana contends, is false to assert that nothing exists, since the very act of asserting suggests that the skeptic exists. But the skeptic’s position is nevertheless “tenable intuitively” and irrefutable. What does this mean? “Tenable intuitively” means within the context of an ulimate skepticism, wherein no gratuitous (i.e., non self-evident) assumptions are allowed. If you take aways time, change, memory, discourse, thought, logic, intelligence, etc. and you simply try to found knowledge on the most basic experiences, an ultimate skepticism becomes tenable. What in fact is “given” to consciousness? Merely some passing datum, “blank and staring”—in short, the solipsism of the present moment. From such a solipsism, no knowledge, no axioms, no first principles can emerge. Skepticism would become entirely tenable and irrefutable if we attempted to found knowledge on the given.

Neither the world nor our knowledge of it has logical foundations in self-evident or "given" experiences. Those looking for a justification of knowledge in the given are looking in the wrong place. Where, then, should they be looking? That will be the subject of my final post in the “Objectivism and Metaphysics” series.

Objectivism & "Metaphysics," Part 8

Rand’s axioms: Consciousness and the discovery of other minds. When Rand declared "one exists possessing consciousness, consciousness being the faculty of perceiving that which exists," she believed she was stating an axiomatic truth "fundamentally given and directly perceived." But note the use of the pronoun one, which is intentionally vague. Note that she doesn't say "I exist possessing consciousness." By saying "one exists possessing consciousness," she is making the tacit assumption that everyone exists possessing conscious. But how does she know (in the axiomatic sense of the term) that other people are conscious? Even if (assuming, per impossible, that one's own consciousness is perceived directly) surely we don't perceive the consciousness of other people directly. If so, how can the consciousness of other people, of which we have no direct experience, be regarded as axiomatic? Even if I were to wave my previous objections to Rand's "axiomatic knowledge" and her foundationalist pretensions, I still don't see how Rand can justify the belief that other people's consciousness is axiomatic. Even if it were so for each individual, this knowledge would remain exclusively personal. Each individual might regard his own consciousness as "axiomatic," but he could only accept the consciousness of others on purely non-foundationalist grounds. Such knowledge remains conjectural, even on Objectivist premises.



This issue reinforces the view that objective knowledge (i.e., knowledge that is true absolutely, whether anyone recognizes it or not) is conjectural right from the start. Anything that is "fundamentally given and directly perceived" is only given and perceived by an individual. How does that individual know that such knowledge is "fundamentally given and directly perceived" by others? While the reports of other people may constitute evidence for a given claim of knowledge, it is not clear how the validity of an axiom can depend merely on such reports. The testimony of others is like memory: although often reliable, it can hardly be regarded as infallible or as the foundation of "self-evidence." While there exists compelling reasons to believe that at least some knowledge deserves to be regarded as "objective" and reliable, these reasons don't measure up to the standards required of Rand's axioms.

The discovery of other minds, far from being axiomatic, probably results, as does most of our knowledge, from trial and error, experimentation and pragmatic tests. Contrary to Rand's ex cathedra assertions, the mind is not a blank slate. Interpretative predispositions exist right from the start. It seems likely that one of these predispositions is a tendency to regard events in the world as the outcome of some purpose or intention. The default position for the human mind may very well turn out to be some form of animism, so that our first tendency is to look for intention, will, mind, and consciousness in the objects around us. Only later, after much groping and error, do we begin distinguishing between the animate and the inanimate, the conscious and the unconsciousness. These discoveries are explorative and empirical right from the beginning. Knowledge does not arise (as Rand's axioms appear to) by analyzing "given" existents. A particular "given" existent is merely a piece of datum, blank and staring. Nothing of any significance can be deduced or proved or "validated" from such a datum. Knowledge arises when, instead of staring at our datum, we regard such representations as symbols of an outlying reality the constituents of which can be investigated, tested, analyzed and discovered. As Santayana puts it, "only by exploring the flux of nature, by experience or testimony, ... [can] I judge whether my original description, granting my terms and circumstances, was a fair description of what actually lies there." Even though many of Rand's metaphysical assertions are true, her reasons for them (i.e., her explanation of how they are known and justified) are false. No statement about matters of fact, regardless how obvious or irrefragible it may seem to the intellect, is ever "justified" by either "direct" observation (since observation of fact is never direct) or through the analysis, logical or otherwise, of mental data (and all data are mental). Factual knowledge (which means significant, relevant knowledge) is not only conjectural, but empirical as well; indeed, it is conjectural because it is empirical. It is not through logical analysis, but through empirical practice and experimentation, that we learn which conjectures are reliable and can be used as guides to action and which are suspect and will only lead us astray.

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 6

Rand’s axioms: Existence exists. Now lets examine the Objectivist axioms, beginning with the axiom of existence. The Objectivist axioms are very instructive as to the dangers of an overly-speculative, rationalistic, largely verbal philosophy. Rand uses the vagueness of her axioms to confuse their tautological meaning with other more problematic meanings. This confusion is at the very heart of the Objectivist axioms.

When we say that some object such as a cat or dog exists, we mean that they have a substantive, independent existence “in reality." Unicorns aren’t recognized as existing or as "real," because no such entity exists in the world of fact and matter. But although unicorns don't exist as real animals, they could be said to exist as an idea or an object of the imagination. If we accept that unicorns exist in this sense, we must also admit that this "non-real" type of existence is very different from the existence that dogs and cats enjoy. It will not do to conflate these two types of existence.


When Objectivists insist that “existence exists,” in what sense do they mean it? In the cat and dog sense, or in the unicorn sense?

“The axiom of Existence states that something exists,” writes David Kelley. “This is the most basic fact of reality. It is simply the statement that there is reality; that whatever there is, is, that whatever one perceives is there to be perceived.”


From these statements, it seems that Objectivism endorses the cat and dog sense of existence. Existence exists becomes merely a pithy way of saying reality exists. Yet Kelley later on backs away from this interpretation: “Notice that [none of the Objectivst axioms make] any specific statement about the nature of what exists. For example, the axiom of existence does not assert the existence of a physical or material world as opposed to a mental one.” [The Logical Structure of Objectivism, 20-22]

So it would appear that existence is used in the unicorn sense. Existence exists merely indicates that something, however ephemeral, exists. It could be a mere idea or essence or image, entirely mythical, like the unicorn. If so, how can Kelley describe this idea as a “basic fact of reality” or equate the phrase existence exists with the phrase reality exists. If all that exists is a stream of essences trickling through consciousness, how can that be described as reality—or, even worse, as a fact of reality?

If we examine all this from a foundationalist mindset (a mindset which Objectivists must honor if they wish to remain consistent), it is clear that the Objectivist axiom of existence fails to deliver what it promises. In the sense that it is foundationally true and obvious (i.e., in the unicorn sense), it is merely an empty, mostly irrelevant tautology. In the sense that it is meaningful, it is neither obvious nor self-evident, but is problematic and conjectural. Kelley describes axioms as “statements validated directly by perceptual observation.” While all sane people believe that existence exists in the cat and dog sense of the term, this belief is not “validated” by direct perceptual observation. Our belief in reality (and it is only a belief) is based on something far more complex and enduring than mere observation. A man, if he has drunk enough whiskey, may observe a pink elephant riding on a unicorn. Yet to say that this pink elephant exists because the drunk is conscious of it is to lapse into palpable idealism. It is only when we have brought intelligence and our practical sense of things (which is based on memory, the “validity” of which is deeply problematical and hardly self-evident) to bear on this observation that we can determine that it is far from real.

To say that “something” exists in the unicorn sense of the term constitutes no great insight into the foundations of knowledge or reality. Who denies it? Objectivists are under the illusion that there exists this large contingent of philosophers that deny the axiom existence exists in the trivial, unicorn sense of the phrase. But strange to say, they cannot produce any such philosopher.

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 4

Nothing is self-evident. Central to the Objectivist metaphysics is the notion that there are certain premises or “axioms” that are “self-evident.” This notion of self-evidence is at the very root of Rand’s foundationalism and must be challenged before we go any further.

Rand once claimed that, “ Nothing is self-evident except the material of sensory perception.” However, the Objectivist “axioms” are also regarded as self-evident, even though it is not clear in what sense these axioms can be regarded as “material of sensory perception” (or even what “material of sensory perception” is supposed to mean!). In dealing with the Objectivist metaphysics, “we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.”

David Kelley defined an axiom as “a self-evident principle that is implicit in all knowledge.” How is an axiom “self-evident”? What does this self-evidence rest on? Objectivists resort to a rather strained argument that convinces only those who wish to be convinced. “An axiom is a proposition that defeats its opponents by the fact that they have to accept it and use it in the process of any attempt to deny it,” explained Rand [emphasis added]. In other words, according to Rand, an axiom is true and self-evident because you cannot refute it without assuming its validity. However, is this notion of how an axiom is true and self-evident also self-evident? And if it is not, how can Rand claim that her axioms are self-evident?

Here’s one problem: Rand claims that every one of her axioms are assumed in the attempt to deny them. How does she know this? Is she familiar with all the potential arguments that can be essayed against them? Of course not: she can’t be familiar with every attempt to deny them. Therefore her assertion is based on a kind of inference—namely, an inductive inference. Now whatever Rand or anyone else thinks of induction, such inferences can hardly be reckoned as self-evident. Therefore, her very belief that her axioms can only be denied by assuming them does not carry with it the stamp of self-evidence, which her axioms require to pass muster.

There’s another problem as well. It seems that Rand did not really understand extreme skepticism, that she may very well have been guilty of confusing the necessary presuppositions of her own philosophy with those of the skeptic. As Santayana noted,

The sceptic is not committed to the implications of other men’s language; nor can he be convicted out of his own mouth by the names he is obliged to bestow on the details of his momentary vision. There may be long vistas in it ; there may be many figures of men and beasts, many legends and apocalypses depicted on his canvas ; there may even be a shadowy frame about it, or the suggestion of a gigantic ghostly some thing on the hither side of it which he may call himself. All this wealth of objects is not inconsistent with solipsism, although the implication of the conventional terms in which those objects are described may render it difficult for the solipsist always to remember his solitude. Yet when he reflects, he perceives it; and all his heroic efforts are concentrated on not asserting and not implying anything, but simply noticing what he finds. Scepticism is not concerned to abolish ideas ; it can relish the variety and order of a pictured world, or of any number of them in succession, without any of the qualms and exclusions proper to dogmatism. Its case is simply not to credit these ideas, not to posit any of these fancied worlds, nor this ghostly mind imagined as viewing them. [Scepticism and Animal Faith, 15-16]

In short, Rand seems to have forgotten that denying existence means denying that the images of sense relate to an external, substantive world of fact, existing in time and space. Positing a world from the data of sense can never be “self-evident.” The only thing that is “evident” to the self is the passing rush of datum across the mind’s sentience. Yet none of these datum, taken by themselves, can be evidence of anything until we assume they are signs of outward things existing in reality. And that assumption, although true, is hardly “self-evident.”

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 2

Basic presuppositions of realism. Realism is the view that physical objects exist independently of being perceived (that is to say, physical objects exist whether they are perceived or not). What is presupposed in such a view?

1. That physical objects exist.
2. That there exists something that perceives these physical objects.
3. That the independence of physical objects does not imply complete separation from the perceiver, that there exists some kind of connection between the object and the perceiver of the object.

From these three presupposition we can flesh out the realist position. Realism believes in a physical existence and a sentient perceiver, in other words, matter and consciousness. The belief that the universe is made up primarily of matter and consciousness is known as psychophysical dualism. Most Objectivists reject this dualism, identifying it with the mind-body dichotomy of Plato. Only Harry Binswanger has suggested that Objectivism is consistent with psychophysical dualism:

What's called dualism is the bogey of philosophy. Since Descartes is wrong in regard to the primacy of consciousness, people smear him that anything he ever said is wrong. And one thing that he said was there's a mind and a body. Now that's right….

Dualism is a dangerous term because of its being used for a strawman. But if you mean: Do we believe there are really two existents? Yes! The mind exists and the brain exists—and neither is the other. As I said, shape exists and color exists—and neither is the other. There are many cases of two attributes of the same entity, neither of which can be reduced to the other…. So, yes, I'm a dualist. Or as Leonard [Peikoff] says in OPAR, because the term dualism is not one we have to fight to save and it's so associated with Descartes, the proper word for it is: Objectivism, not dualism. We have our own distinct view here. But if you had to put it in the historical classification, yeah, we're not monists. We believe that both consciousness and matter exist and neither is reducible to the other.

Depiste this rather tepid acknowledgement of dualism, some Objectivists were shocked by Binswanger’s allegiance with so “dangerous” a term. Yet realism implies psychophysical dualism, so that if you are a logically consistent realist, you must, ipso facto, be a psychophysical dualist.

Realism also believes that consciousness is capable of perceiving matter. This is a more difficult proposition to elucidate, particularly for foundationalists like Rand, who wish to provide a veneer of logic for their chief assertions. In the main, there are two groups of theories: (1) direct realism, which posits that we perceive physical objects without mediation, so that physical objects exist precisely as we see them; (2) indirect realism, which posits that we perceive all objects through the medium of ideas, that, in effect, there exists a dualism between physical objects and how they are represented in consciousness. Most theories of realism, including Rand’s, are convoluted attempts to combine direct and indirect realism. They are all involved in what the realist philosopher Arthur Lovejoy called “the revolt against dualism.” None of these confused realists are comfortable admitting that reality is perceived through the medium of ideas, because this insight inevitably stresses the provisional, conjectural nature of knowledge.

So to sum up: the hypothesis of realism, when fleshed out, involves belief in two dualisms:

1. Psychophysical dualism (i.e., the belief that matter and consciousness exist).
2. Epistemological dualism (i.e., the belief that mind perceives material objects through the veil of ideas—i.e., representationalism).

Is there any reasons for believing that realism, along with these two dualisms, is true? I will turn to this subject in the next post.

Objectivism & “Metaphysics,” Part 1

Preliminaries. What on earth is all this nonsense that goes under the name “metaphysics”? Rand defined metaphysics as “the study of existence as such or, in Aristotle’s words, of ‘being qua being.’” Well, that sure narrows it down! More insightful is George Santayana’s take on the subject:

Metaphysics, in the proper sense of the word, is dialectical physics, or an attempt to determine matters of fact by means of logical or moral or rhetorical constructions. It arises by a confusion of those Realms of Being which it is my special care to distinguish. It is neither physical speculation nor pure logic nor honest literature, but (as in the treatise of Aristotle first called by that name) a hybrid of the three, materialising ideal entities, turning harmonies into forces, and dissolving natural things into terms of discourse. Speculations about the natural world, such as those of the Ionian philosophers, are not metaphysics, but simply cosmology or natural philosophy. [Scepticism and Animal Faith, vii]

I have tended to follow Santayana’s usage of the word, regarding metaphysics as, in the main, empirically irresponsible speculation. Even when used to defend postulates that are basically sound, metaphysics remains, in the words of F. H. Bradley, “the finding of bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct.”



There is, however, one other usage of the word that should be noted. Karl Popper applied the word metaphysics to any claims or conjectures that are not empirically testable. Popper’s usage, while entirely blameless, is not one I normally honor.

Now following Santayana’s usage, I inevitably open myself up to complaints, often introduced in an angry tone, that, I too, have a metaphysics; that indeed, “having a metaphysics” is inevitable, since everyone has a “basic view of the world,” that is to say, a “metaphysics.” However, following Santayana, I don’t choose to call my so-called “basic view” of the universe metaphysical. It is merely, as Santayana calls it, cosmology or natural philosophy. And I entirely reject any attempt to determine matters of fact by means of logical or moral or rhetorical constructions. Such devices, I hold, cannot lead to truth, but only encourage rationalization and empty speculation.

What, then, is my “basic view of the universe”? In the broad essentials, it is not so different from Rand’s. It involves the fundamental assumptions involved in living. I presuppose, for instance, the existence of time, including a past that is gone and a future that is to come; the existence of a physical universe made up of gross objects in space; and the existence of consciousness, which perceives existence through the veil of ideas. Unlike Rand, I don’t believe these basic presuppositions can be defended or validated via axioms or logical argumentation. All these fundamental presuppositions may conceivably be illusory—that is to say, the arguments against them cannot be decisively refuted. They are presuppositions which nature has bred in us (probably via evolution) and which have proved their worth, not by logic, but through centuries of practice. They neither require nor are amenable to logical justification.

Rand takes a very different approach. She is an extreme foundationalist who believes that man’s fundamental presuppositions requires explicit logical justification; that in the absence of this justification, people will lose their ability to think for themselves and will become incapable of supporting a free society. Is there any evidence to support this contention? None that is convincing. The belief that all human contentions and presuppositions require explicit philosophical justification constitutes a false demand. Few people understand, let alone care, about such arcana. Rand’s foundationalism only serves to encourage rationalization, verbalism, essentialism, and other modes of empty speculation, and is often symptomatic of a dogmatic turn of mind that has trouble accepting the provisional and conjectural nature of knowledge. Rather than being an ally of realism, foundationalism tends to undermine it, as it forces the philosopher to adopt premises that are at odds with realism.

But more on this anon.

Objectivism & Politics, Part 57

Ayn Rand contra Libertarianism 2. In my last post I summed up Rand’s allegations against Libertarianism as follows:

Libertarians are bad and evil because:

1. Libertarians are a “monstrous, disgusting bunch of people.”
2. Libertarians are “plagiarists” who stole Rand’s ideas without giving credit.
3. Libertarians are anarchists.
4. Libertarians are anti-intellectual collectivists, worse than Marxists.
5. Libertarians are hippies and scum and intellectual cranks.
6. Libertarians are worse than the New Left, because they want to combine anarchism with capitalism.
7. Libertarians are led by men of various persuasions, including “religious conservatives and anarchists.”
8. Libertarianism is based, in part, on “borrowed ideas.”
9. Libertarians denounce Rand when it fits their purpose.
10. Libertarians would like to have an amoral politics.
11. Libertarianism is a cheap attempt at publicity.

I examined the first five in the previous post; now let’s tackle the final six.




6. Libertarians are worse than the New Left, because they want to combine anarchism with capitalism. As with many of her allegations against Libertarianism, this one is guilty of painting a brush a mile wide. Yes, some Libertarians want to combine libertarianism with anarchism, but not all do.

Does wishing to combine capitalism with anarchism make Libertarians worse than the New Left? Why? Because, according to Rand, it is better to be consistent in a bad cause than inconsistent in a good one. This has it's basis in one of Rand's oddest prejudices—namely, that human beings are the mere pawns of the logical deductions of their most basic premises. Why this is so, Rand never explained. It is a tacit assumption, rarely recognized, let alone questioned.

To impotent ideologues whose ideas are incapable of finding realization in the world of fact, there exists no empirical consequences to serve as a check to their wildest, fact impoverished speculations. Without empirical checks, one's practical sense of things gradually dissolves away. The imagination, guided by wishful thinking, becomes king.

To practical individuals rooted in the world of fact, what is important is the empirical fruits or consequences of a specific ideology. The fact that one ideology is more consistent with its so-called "basic" premises is of little importance. What is important is the actual consequences, as read from the book of fact, of the ideology in question. On this standard, Libertarianism can hardly be considered as "worse than the New Left," even from an Objectivist viewpoint. The bad effects of Libertarianism are limited by the very fact that, beyond providing rationalizations for free trade and deregulation, the effects of Libertarianism have been negligible. The New Left, on the other hand, has been enormously influential in schools, universities, city and state government, and, since President Obama's election, in Federal government. Policies influenced by New Left ideals have led to a serious demoralization of American society that grossly outweighs whatever mischief has resulted from the Libertarian rationalizations put forth on behalf of free trade and deregulation. So the notion that Libertarians are "worse" than the New Left is not terribly plausible from the empirical point of view.

7. Libertarians are led by men of various persuasions, including “religious conservatives and anarchists.” This is a strange and even troubling allegation for Rand to make, particularly in light of all the virtuous noise she makes on behalf of individualism. Rand is upset that Libertarians (who, after all, are individualists of one stripe or another), are not, as she apparently wants them to be, merely a horde of indistinguishable ideologues, alike in all "essential" respects. There exists a central paradox at the core of Objectivism. On the one hand, Objectivism is supposed to be a philosophy of extreme, uncompromising individualism; yet on the other, it preaches an equally extreme, uncompromising form of “rational” morality, which demands a moral uniformity far more rigid and exacting than found in the worst sort of secular or theocratic totalitarian states. Even worse, Rand extended her totalitarian “rationality” to the psychological and aesthetic spheres. According to the example set by Rand, Objectivists not only had to accept all the same moral injunctions, but they also had to experience the same emotional and aesthetic reactions. And all this was done under the pretense of individualism and excused because it was voluntary!

Would Rand really have felt better about Libertarianism if it were made up of men of a single persuasion? Hardly likely. She was merely searching for any pretext at all that she could give herself for hating Libertarianism, and this was merely one that she ran across. Yet it does reveal something about her psychology that she would object to an ideological movement being made up of individuals of “various persuasions.”

8. Libertarianism is based, in part, on “borrowed ideas.” What movement isn’t based “in part,” on “borrowed ideas”? Even more troubling here, however, is the whole notion of “borrowed ideas”—as if ideas are like private property and can only be “loaned out” to those who don’t “own” the ideas. There are a very few narrowly technical or aesthetic “ideas” that may be patented or copyrighted—e.g., a poem, a software program, an industrial formula. Beyond that, no ideas can be owned or copyrighted. Philosophical and political ideas are not “owned” by their originators (and if they were, they would long ago have fallen out of copyright, since most of our philosophical and political notions were originated long ago). Once a philosopher releases an idea to the world, others may take it up and use it as they see fit. There is no question of borrowing or stealing or plagiarism or any of that kind of nonsense.

9. Libertarians denounce Rand when it fits their purpose. And why shouldn’t they denounce Rand? After all, who start the denunciations, Rand or the Libertarians? Rand despised the Libertarians right from the beginning, so there’s no point at being indignant because some libertarians despised her back. It’s little more than reciprocity.

Even more troubling is Rand's narcissistic assumption under which it is entirely appropriate for her to denounce anyone she likes yet not appropriate for anyone to denounce her in return. Rand allows herself to ignore various rules of fair play and decency, while expecting everyone to abide by these rules in their conduct toward her. Heads Rand wins, tails everyone else loses. Anyone have a problem with this? Or is this what it means to follow one's “rational” self-interest?

10. Libertarians would like to have an amoral politics. This is a rather confusing allegation. What Rand is really saying is: Libertarians do not base their political convictions, or argue on behalf of those convictions, on the basis of my morality. Rand had convinced herself that capitalism, freedom, and individualism could only be nurtured and defended on the basis of a moral system. Yet Rand’s own belief on this issue is based merely on her own say-so. Nearly everything we know from history, sociology, experimental psychology, and cognitive science testifies against it. A moral base, in practical terms, is merely those rationalizations that people put forth to spread a veneer of logic over whatever political ideology suits their economic interests and their sentimental proclivities. Since just about any rationalization will do, the specific rationalization is of little moment. Whether one defends a specific political idea on the basis of “natural” law, “right reason,” “A is A,” “divine” right,” or the thunderbolts of Zeus, it is all the same and hence makes hardly one jot of difference. To charge Libertarians with wanting an “amoral politics” is merely another way of saying Libertarians don’t care which rationalizations you put forth to defend the specific political order that Libertarians fancy. Why should a group bicker or divide over obscure doctrinal matters, when all their members ultimately want the same thing?

11. Libertarianism is a cheap attempt at publicity. And why is this a bad thing? Libertarians wish to spread ideas about liberty. How are they to do so without publicity? Or is the crux of Rand’s complaint that the publicity is “cheap”? But isn’t it rather snobbish to make such a complaint? After all, Libertarians are a mere fringe political faction, without much access to the corporate cash of the two big players in the political scene, the Republicans and the Democrats? So why shouldn’t they try get their publicity as inexpensively as possible?

As can easily be appreciated from the last two posts, Rand’s criticism of Libertarianism is grossly unfair, illogical, unmeasured and confused—mere ranting and raving with hardly a scintilla of dispassionate rational analysis over the whole course of it. How could someone as intelligent as Rand—someone, moreover, who prided herself on “reason” and not allowing one's emotions to infect one's cognition—sink so low? I shall address this question in my next post.

Objectivism & Politics, Part 13

An Objectivist fairy tale. In previous posts, I have brought forth compelling evidence for the the view that neither "reason" nor abstract thought plays much of a role in politics. Leonard Peikoff's contention that “philosophy shapes a nation’s political system” must therefore be regarded as a gross exaggeration. Yet Objectivism has one more arrow in its quiver. In Peikoff’s Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand, we find the following extraordinary assertion:

As long as men remain ignorant of their basic mental process, they have no answer to the charge, leveled by mysticism and skepticism alike, that their mental content is some form of revelation or invention detached from reality. This kind of viewpoint can go into remission for a while,…however if it is not burned out of men’s souls completely by an explicit philosophical theory, it becomes the most virulent of cancers; it metastasizes to every branch of philosophy and every department of culture, as is now evident throughout the world. Then the best among men become paralyzed by doubt; while the others turn into mindless hordes that march in any irrationalist era looking for someone to rule them. [88]

In other words, the reason why people allow themselves to be directed by their sentiments and interests, rather than by “reason” and “reality,” is because they are ignorant of their basic mental processes. In particular, they are ignorant of a “full answer to the problem [of universals].” “Most philosophers did not intend to invalidate conceptual knowledge,” contended Rand, “but its defenders did more to destroy it than did its enemies. They were unable to offer a solution to the ‘problem of universals,’ that is: to define the nature and source of abstractions, to determine the relationship of concepts to perceptual data—and to prove the validity of scientific induction.” [FTNI, 30]

So our knowledge, according to Rand, must be “validated.” We must actually know how we know. Our beliefs, our knowledge claims must have a foundation or justification. And not just any kind of justification will do. We can’t just assume that we are right, on the basis of a kind of pragmatic feeling or intuitive sense, based on experience and tradition. We must know the precise reasons why we know what we know. Nothing less will do.

What we are confronted with here is a particularly extreme and intense version of foundationalism, coupled with an equally extreme version of justificationism. All beliefs must be “validated” (which in Objectivism seems to mean: justified on the basis of “self-evident” axioms). Everything not proved is dismissed as “arbitrary”; and any protests that this demand is itself arbitrary are dismissed as the most hateful and nihilistic skepticism.

Ayn Rand is not alone in having this mania for proving impossible and unnecessary contentions. Many other philosophers throughout civilized human history (most of them, thankfully, forgotten) have been afflicted by various forms of this sickness. Charles Augustus Strong, an American philosopher (remembered today, if he is remembered at all, as the son-in-law of the great monopolist, John D. Rockerfeller), was obsessed with demonstrating how consciousness could originate within an unconscious world, and made himself unpleasant to anyone who, like his friend George Santayana, were never troubled by such trivialities. Another obscure philosopher, Pierre-Louis Moreau de Maupertuis, once famous for formulating the “principle of least action,” was obsessed with explaining the darker mysteries of Motion. The historian Thomas Carlyle has some trenchant criticisms to make concerning Maupertuis’ unfortunate obsession with Motion:

It is well known there have been, to the metaphysical head, difficulties almost insuperable as to How, in the System of Nature, Motion is? How, in the name of wonder, it can be; and even, Whether it is at all? Difficulties to the metaphysical head, sticking its nose into the gutter there;—not difficult to my readers and me, who can at all times walk across the room, and triumphantly get over them. But stick your nose into any gutter, entity, or object, this of Motion or another, with obstinacy,—you will easily drown, if that be your determination!

Carlyle here gets it exactly right. It is not in the least important for us to “solve” the metaphysical or epistemological difficulties presented by these so-call “problems,” whether of Maupertuis’ motion, Strong’s origin of consciousness, or Rand’s universals. Each and every one of us triumphs over the problem of motion when we go to the bathroom; we triumph over the problem of the origin of consciousness when we wake up in the morning; and we triumph over the problem of universals every time we use a general term to cover multiple instances. These problems, in short, are entirely contrived and artificial, arising out of false ideals concerning knowledge and propagated by philosophers suffering from being far too anal about trivial matters.

Yet in Rand, it is even worse. She is attempting to use the problem of universals as a kind of scapegoat to blame everything she dislikes in the world. I suppose we can give Rand credit for not choosing a race or an ethnicity or a religious culture for her scapegoat. This shows in improvement and refinement in scapegoat theorizing, just as rearing of domestic animals is an improvement and refinement on hunting wild animals. But that’s all that can be said for it. For in the end, Rand’s contention that most of the moral, political, and social problems of the world ultimately stem from the failure to solve the problem of universals is mere wishful thinking on an epic scale. It places Rand in the role of the great heroine who, in the words of Peikoff, “overturn[s] the reign of the evil and save[s] the world.” Anyone who could actually believe such a fairy tale clearly has no head for reality.

Objectivism & Politics, Part 6

Politics and the non-rational 2: constructivism. In the last "Objectivism and Politics" post I introduced the concept of non-logical conduct, which I contended is an important element in what happens in society. Now while Rand probably might not have much cared for the notion of non-logical conduct, it is not, in and of itself, contrary to Objectivism. An Objectivist, for instance, could easily accept the fact of non-logical conduct and its important affect on society. What he would have to add, as a sort of caveat to this acceptance, is the conviction that this non-logical conduct is bad society; that is, indeed, primarily what is wrong with society. “Yes, non-logical conduct is an important fact about society,” this Objectivist might admit. “But it’s precisely because people are ‘non-logical’ that things are so bad. If we could teach people not to be non-logical in their conduct, we would have a much better world.”

There are two problems with this view of non-logical conduct.

1. It is not clear, and certainly cannot be assumed a priori, that non-logical conduct in all instances is “bad.”
   
2. A society based solely on logical conduct and “reason” simply is not possible.
   

In this post, I will examine the first of these two problems.

Despite Rand’s vehement denial, it simply isn’t true that “reason” (i.e., consciously deliberated reasoning which applies logical reasonings to facts) can be the only guide to one’s life. Reason tends to break down and falter whenever it is facing any issue of great complexity and uncertain outcomes. Few things are quite so complicated as the social order. To believe that one can, through “reason,” construct a rational social order is to commit what F. A. Hayek called “the fatal conceit.” Civilization itself is the product of “non-logical” conduct. Nor does can it be otherwise. As Hayek notes:

We flatter ourselves undeservedly if we represent human civilization as entirely the product of conscious reason or as the product of human design, or when we assume that it is necessarily in our power deliberately to re-create or to maintain what we have built without knowing what we are doing…. Many of the greatest things man has achieved are the result not of consciously directed thought, and still less the product of a deliberately coordinated effort of many individuals, but of a process in which the individual plays a part which he can never fully understand. They are greater than any individual precisely because they result from the combination of knowledge more extensive than a single mind can master….

[The] belief that processes which are consciously directed are necessarily superior to any spontaneous process is an unfounded superstition…. [The] spontaneous interplay of social forces sometimes solves problems which no individual mind could consciously solve, or perhaps even perceives, and if they thereby create an ordered structure which increases the power of the individuals without having been designed by any one of them, they are superior to conscious action… Insofar as such processes are capable of producing a useful order which could not have been produced by conscious direction, any attempt to make them subject to such direction would necessarily mean that we restrict what social activity can achieve to the inferior capacity of the individual mind….

It may prove to be far the most difficult and not the least important task for human reason rationally to comprehend its own limitations. It is essential for the growth of reason that as individuals we should bow to forces and obey principles which we cannot hope fully to understand, yet on which the advance and even the preservation of civilization depend. Historically this has been achieved by the influence of the various religious creeds and by traditions and superstitions which made men submit to those forces by an appeal to his emotions rather than his reason. The most dangerous stage in the growth of civilization may well be that in which man has come to regard all these beliefs as superstitions and refuses to accept or to submit to anything which he does not rationally understand. The rationalist whose reason is not sufficient to teach him those limitations of the powers of conscious reason, and who despises all the institutions and customs which have not been consciously designed, would thus become the destroyer of the civilization built upon them. This may well prove a hurdle which man will repeatedly reach, only to be thrown back into barbarism. [The Counter-Revolution of Science, 149-163]

Hayek’s discussion is rather abstract, so we might do well to flesh it out a bit. His focus is primarily on those who believe that all institutions ought to be based on “reason” (i.e., “conscious direction”). He believes that the desire to found the institutions of society entirely on “reason” is incompatible with freedom. “Those who believe that all useful institutions are deliberate contrivances [of reason] and who cannot conceive of anything serving a human purpose that has not be consciously designed [i.e., not product of logical conduct] are almost of necessity enemies of freedom.” [Constitution of Liberty, 61]

Now while Rand is not an enemy of freedom, her belief in the “supremacy” of reason leads her to a kind of social constructivism that is more compatible with the social views of the political left. Rand’s constructivism arises mostly clearly in remarks she made about common law:

Common law is good in the way witchdoctors were once good: some of their discoveries were a primitive form of medicine, and to that extent they achieved something. But once a science of medicine is established, you don’t return to witchdoctors. Similarly, common law established—by tradition or inertia—some proper principles (and some dreadful ones). But once a civilization grasps the concept of law, and particularly of a constitution, common law becomes unnecessary (p. 44). [because "reason" provides a better guide than established usage.]

In other words, Rand is admitting that in the past there was some real utility in non-logical conduct, but now that “rational” law has been (or ought to be) established, we can do away with Hayek’s spontaneous formations and found everything on “reason.” But if this is true, why stop with the law? Why not found economic policy on “reason.” Yes, I know, Objectivists believe that a rational economic policy entails laissez-faire. But that is a minority opinion among those believing in the supremacy of reason, most of whom are interventionists or socialists of one stripe or another. Before World War II, many intellectuals were convinced that “reason” supported socialism, because a system of production consciously directed and planned by experts seemed more “rational” then the “anarchy” of the market. Yet the fact remains that the so-called “blind” forces of the market do a much more efficient job of coordinating the factors of production than conscious reasoning on the part of a central planner ever could. An economy is far too complex to be governed by “reason.” Non-logical conduct therefore has an important place and society, and the prejudice against it is simply that: a prejudice.

Objectivism & Religion, Part 12

Agnosticism. Peikoff has this to say of agnosticism:

[There is] a widespread approach to ideas which Objectivism repudiates altogether: agnosticism. I mean this term in a sense which applies to the question of God, but to many other issues also, such as extra-sensory perception or the claim that the stars influence man’s destiny. In regard to all such claims, the agnostic is the type who says, “I can’t prove these claims are true, but you can’t prove they are false, so the only proper conclusion is: I don’t know; no one knows; no one can know one way or the other.”

The agnostic viewpoint poses as fair, impartial, and balanced. See how many fallacies you can find in it. Here are a few obvious ones: First, the agnostic allows the arbitrary into the realm of human cognition. He treats arbitrary claims as ideas proper to consider, discuss, evaluate—and then he regretfully says, “I don’t know,” instead of dismissing the arbitrary out of hand. Second, the onus-of-proof issue: the agnostic demands proof of a negative in a context where there is no evidence for the positive. “It’s up to you,” he says, “to prove that the fourth moon of Jupiter did not cause your sex life and that it was not a result of your previous incarnation as the Pharaoh of Egypt.” Third, the agnostic says, “Maybe these things will one day be proved.” In other words, he asserts possibilities or hypotheses with no jot of evidential basis.

Peikoff here misrepresents agnosticism. He equates agnosticism with the creed of “I don’t know” and “Anything is possible." Is Peikoff right in his description of agnosticism? Perhaps we should turn to some actual agnostics to find out. And there is no better witness to call to the stand than the man who originally coined the term, Thomas Henry Huxley. Here is Huxley’s description of agnosticism:

Agnosticism … is not a creed, but a method, the essence of which lies in the rigorous application of a single principle. That principle is of great antiquity; it is as old as Socrates; as old as the writer who said, "Try all things, hold fast by that which is good" it is the foundation of the Reformation, which simply illustrated the axiom that every man should be able to give a reason for the faith that is in him; it is the great principle of Descartes; it is the fundamental axiom of modern science. Positively the principle may be expressed: In matters of the intellect, follow your reason as far as it will take you, without regard to any other consideration. And negatively: In matters of the intellect do not pretend that conclusions are certain which are not demonstrated or demonstrable. That I take to be the agnostic faith, which if a man keep whole and undefiled, he shall not be ashamed to look the universe in the face, whatever the future may have in store for him.

Now many Objectivists will protest Huxley’s use of the word faith, but here it is important to understand that Huxley is not advocating a blind faith (he was scientist, after all) but a justified faith—justified by the fruits of experience. Huxley understands that you cannot prove your starting points; that you have to begin with faith and then see how it works out. If your faith is corroborated by experiential trials that you subject it to, you are justified in keeping fast to it. Otherwise, you try something else. Agnosticism, then, for Huxley is simply the critical method of thinking. It means always keeping an open mind to new evidence. As Huxley puts it: “The results of the working out of the agnostic principle will vary according to individual knowledge and capacity, and according to the general condition of science. That which is unproven today may be proven by the help of new discoveries to-morrow. The only negative fixed points will be those negations which flow from the demonstrable limitation of our faculties. And the only obligation accepted is to have the mind always open to conviction.”

“Do not block the path of inquiry!” insisted philosopher C. S. Peirce. This is the great danger for those who believe that knowledge, in order to be useful, must be "certain:" that they will close their minds to new evidence, because, after all, the debate is over, certainty has been achieved! The path to inquiry is blocked by the de facto dogmatism of all claims to certainty. All Huxley’s agnosticism is trying to insist upon is to keep the mind open, keep the path to inquiry clear.

Peikoff mischaracterizes agnosticism as insisting on the proof of negatives. But that’s not in the least true. Agnosticism is merely pointing out that lack of evidence does not constitute proof that something doesn’t exist. This is not the same thing as saying that the all things are possible. Nor is it claiming we can’t have any beliefs or suspicions about extra-empirical entities such as the God of the Bible. There is nothing contradictory in an agnostic saying he doesn’t believe in that sort of God. But he doesn’t regard this belief as “certain” and determined for all time. The agnostic remains a steadfast fallibilist. He remains open to any new evidence that might be brought forth on the question. And so, when the agnostic H. L. Mencken was asked what he would do if, following his earthly demise, he suddenly found himself confronted by the twelve apostles, he answered: “I would simply say, ‘Gentlemen, I was mistaken.’”

The Cognitive Revolution & Objectivism, Part 11

Conclusion. Having briefly run through some of the major challenges posed by the Cognitive Revolution to orthodox Objectivism, a recapitulation of the main points would be in order.

1. Rand's blank slate view of human nature, particularly her denial that human choice (i.e., free will) is not "saddled with tendencies," is not a plausible position.

2. There is no compelling evidence to support Rand's assertion that emotions are a product of an individual's premises.

3. The Randian view that nothing gets in the "subconscious" without first being in the consciousness is grossly implausible, and about as scientifically creditable as the view that the earth is flat.

4. Rand greatly exaggerates the role that consciousness plays in concept-formation, leading her to place far too much importance on definitions and other trappings of formalized, conscious thinking.

5. Wittgenstein's "family resemblance" theory of concept demonstrates the poverty of Rand's classical view of concepts.

6. Rand's view that "Reason is man's only means of grasping reality and acquiring knowledge" is falsified by the overwhelming evidence for intuitive forms of thinking (such as Oakeshott's "practical knowledge"), which do not use "reason."

7. Rand's view that "Emotions are not tools of cognition" are falsified by cutting edge research by neuroscientist Antonio Damasio.

8. Rand's belief that epistemological truth is best attained through introspection is refuted by the view, common in the cognitive science world, that "unconscious thought is 95 percent of all thought." Introspection, then, would only have access to 5 percent of thought! Not a good vantage point for understanding human cognition!

9. Since most of human thought is hidden from introspection, anyone who claims to understand cognition from their introspective observations is talking through their hat; and any epistemology found on such slim pickings must, ipso facto, be largely speculative. This is the major problem with Randian epistemology. It is mostly speculative, rather than empirical and scientific. Rand is not an authority on human cognition. Cognitive scientists, who study human cognition empirically, using scientific methods of research and the rigorous system of peer review to catch errors, are likely to know a great deal more about cognition than Rand.

10. The cognitive unconscious and the important role of tacit, intuitive knowledge constitutes a huge blow to foundationalism, which is so central to Objectivism, particularly to the Objectivist theory of history. Non-verbal forms of knowledge, which form a critical component of human knowledge, cannot be proved or validated or deduced from axioms or from basic truths.

Having refuted the worst of Rand's epistemological pretensions, we can now examine some of the other parts of her system with greater depth and insight. Among the many lessons that can be drawn from the Cognitive Revolution, perhaps the most important has to do with the inevitable conflict between Objectivist methodology on the one hand and the understanding of human nature on the other. Human nature is a family resemblance concept which is partially based on tacit, intuitive knowledge. Consequently, no detailed and practically effective understanding of human nature can be achieved through the sort of "reason" based essentialism advocated by Rand. The Objectivist definition of man as a "rational animal" provides no real insight into human nature and could not be used as a reliable guide in predicting how people are likely to behave in a given situation. There are individuals in politics, in business, in law enforcement, in the criminal underworld who are very savvy at guessing the probable behavior of strangers in special circumstances. This knowledge is very useful and gives them an advantage in the competition for preeminence in society.