Thinking

Does free will exist? Scientific American posits a thought experiment that bears on the question:

Suspend disbelief for a moment and imagine that you have agreed, as a secret agent in some confidential military operation, to travel back in time to the year 1894. To your astonishment, it’s a success! And now — after wiping away the magical time-travelling dust from your eyes — you find yourself on the fringes of some Bavarian village, hidden in a camouflaging thicket of wilderness against the edge of town, the distant, disembodied voices of nineteenth-century Germans mingling atmospherically with the unmistakable sounds of church bells.

Quickly, you survey your surroundings: you seem to be directly behind a set of old row houses; white linens have been hung out to dry; a little stream tinkles behind you; windows have been opened to let in the warm springtime air. How quaint. No one else appears to be about, although occasionally you glimpse a pedestrian passing between the narrow gaps separating the houses. And then you notice him. There’s a quiet, solemn-looking little boy nearby, playing quietly with some toys in the dirt. He looks to be about six years old — a mere kindergartner, in the modern era. It’s then that you’re reminded of your mission: this is the town of Passau in Southern Germany. And that’s no ordinary little boy. It’s none other than young Adolph Hitler.

What would you do next?

(hat tip: MetaFilter)

Adam Savage:

Prayer doesn’t work because someone out there is listening, it works because someone in here is listening. I’ve paid attention. I’ve pictured what I want to happen in my life. I’ve meditated extensively on my family, my future, my past actions and what did and didn’t work for me about them. I’ve looked hard at problems and thought hard about their solutions.

See, I order my life by the same mechanism that I use to build things. I cannot proceed to move tools around in the real world until my brain has a clear picture in it of what I’m building. The same goes for my life. I’ve tried to pay attention. I’ve tried to picture the way I want things to be, and I’ve noticed that when I had a clear picture, things often turned out the way I wanted them to.

I’ve concluded by this that someone is paying attention — I’ve concluded that it’s me. I’ve noticed that if I’m paying attention to those around me, to myself, to my surroundings, then that is the very definition of empathy. I’ve noticed that when I pay attention, I’m less selfish, I’m happier — and that the inverse holds true as well.

(hat tip: Friendly Atheist)

Anyone who reads this blog for more than fifteen minutes knows how quick I am to excoriate someone who’s telling a lie. But is there ever a time when lies can serve to illuminate a greater truth? One college professor found lies useful in teaching:

What made Dr. K memorable was a gimmick he employed that began with his introduction at the beginning of his first class:

“Now I know some of you have already heard of me, but for the benefit of those who are unfamiliar, let me explain how I teach. Between today until the class right before finals, it is my intention to work into each of my lectures … one lie. Your job, as students, among other things, is to try and catch me in the Lie of the Day.” And thus began our ten-week course.

This was an insidiously brilliant technique to focus our attention – by offering an open invitation for students to challenge his statements, he transmitted lessons that lasted far beyond the immediate subject matter and taught us to constantly checksum new statements and claims with what we already accept as fact. Early in the quarter, the Lie of the Day was usually obvious – immediately triggering a forest of raised hands to challenge the falsehood. Dr. K would smile, draw a line through that section of the board, and utter his trademark phrase “Very good! In fact, the opposite is true. Moving on … “

As the quarter progressed, the Lie of the Day became more subtle, and many ended up slipping past a majority of the students unnoticed until a particularly alert person stopped the lecture to flag the disinformation. Every once in a while, a lecture would end with nobody catching the lie which created its own unique classroom experience – in any other college lecture, end of the class hour prompts a swift rush of feet and zipping up of bookbags as students make a beeline for the door; on the days when nobody caught the lie, we all sat in silence, looking at each other as Dr. K, looking quite pleased with himself, said with a sly grin: “Ah ha! Each of you has one falsehood in your lecture notes. Discuss amongst yourselves what it might be, and I will tell you next Monday. That is all.” Those lectures forced us to puzzle things out, work out various angles in study groups so we could approach him with our theories the following week.

So, yes… lies sometimes have their uses — if one is using them openly, to teach critical thinking and the ability to sort the true from the false. Lying for the express purpose of deceiving one’s listeners, though, still ranks among the most disgraceful and damaging things a person can do.

PZ Myers has posted a beautiful and eloquent piece, entitled “An atheist’s creed”.

An atheist’s creed

I believe in time,
matter, and energy,
which make up the whole of the world.

I believe in reason, evidence and the human mind,
the only tools we have;
they are the product of natural forces
in a majestic but impersonal universe,
grander and richer than we can imagine,
a source of endless opportunities for discovery.

I believe in the power of doubt;
I do not seek out reassurances,
but embrace the question,
and strive to challenge my own beliefs.

I accept human mortality.

We have but one life,
brief and full of struggle,
leavened with love and community,
learning and exploration,
beauty and the creation of
new life, new art, and new ideas.

I rejoice in this life that I have,
and in the grandeur of a world that preceded me,
and an earth that will abide without me.

What’s the Harm? collects examples of folks who have been killed, injured, or who have suffered economic loss as a result of a lack of critical thinking:

Not all information is created equal. Some of it is correct. Some of it is incorrect. Some of it is carefully balanced. Some of it is heavily biased. Some of it is just plain crazy.

It is vital in the midst of this deluge that each of us be able to sort through all of this, keeping the useful information and discarding the rest. This requires the skill of critical thinking. Unfortunately, this is a skill that is often neglected in schools.

This site is designed to make a point about the danger of not thinking critically. Namely that you can easily be injured or killed by neglecting this important skill. We have collected the stories of over 120,000 people who have been injured or killed as a result of someone not thinking critically.

The site presents a frightening litany of catastrophes caused by uncritical belief in things like Scientology, homeopathy, and creationism. Read and be warned.

Ed Brayton has an excellent post about a priori dismissal, a variant of our old friend the straw man argument.

Here’s what I think is really going on here: assuming an evil agenda is easier than engaging someone’s real position. It’s what Matt Nisbet would call a convenient cognitive shortcut. It makes the world so simple when you can just dismiss the person taking the position out of hand without having to engage the position itself. But sometimes the world just isn’t that simple; sometimes, frequently in fact, a clash of ideas really is a sincere dispute between people who both care about doing the right thing even if they disagree on what the right thing is.

…

Such arguments are made as a means of a priori dismissal. They tend to cloud our judgment rather than aid in it. Once we’ve decided that the contrary position is not just wrong but evil, all serious thought about the subject ceases. So does all meaningful communication. Such shallow thinking is seductive precisely because it’s all too easy. Probably none of us are entirely immune to it; I know I’m not. But it’s something that rational people should make a concerted effort to avoid.

One sees a great deal of this from the wingnut extremists of the right, but it can be found coming from all parts of the political spectrum. Certainly I know that I am not guiltless in this regard. Ed is quite right: Anyone interested in rational discussion of the issues of the day should work very hard to avoid this fallacy.

Michael Montoure has written what may be the finest, most succinct essay on the elusive art of happiness and self-improvement that I have ever read…

Find the demon.

Do you know what I’m talking about? It’s the little voice in the back of your head that’s always whispering, “You can’t.” You know the demon. You may think you hate the demon, but you don’t. You love it. You let it own you. You do everything it says. Every time there’s something you want, you consult the demon first, to see if it will say, “You can’t have that.”

What you don’t realize is that your demon doesn’t know anything. It’s an idiot. It’s nothing but a parrot, repeating back to you anything negative that its ever heard, anything that makes you hurt, makes you squirm. If a teacher once told you “You’ll never accomplish anything,” it was listening; it hoards words like that and repeats them back to you to watch you jump. It doesn’t know what its saying. It doesn’t care.

Exorcise yourself.

You can take me literally or not, as suits you. But do, please, the next time you hear that voice in your head, imagine it, visualize it, as something physical that you can get hold of; tear it out of you, feel its fingers weaken and lose their grip on your spine, and grind it to dust, to nothing, under your boot heel on your way out to dance in the streets.

You can. You think you can’t; but it’s telling you that. You can.

Read it all.