On Refinement and Self-Restraint

There's a monkey in the jungle
Watching a vapour trail
Caught up in the conflict
Between his brain and his tail
-Gorillaz


A most common conceit among philosophers is the idea that their motivations are fundamentally different from those of the common man.  They draw a sharp distinction between the refined pursuits of the mind or soul and the base pursuits of the body.  In Hesiod, the Muses, veritable embodiments of the soul's pursuits, denounce shepherds for being "mere bellies".  Plato and Aristotle characterized the common man as being driven by the passions of the belly and the sex organs, whereas the philosopher was driven by pure love of wisdom.  But to characterize the philosopher as having risen above the passions and to operate according to pure reason is incorrect.  As David Hume explained, operations of the will are always ultimately impelled by the passions.

It is obvious, that when we have the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object, we feel a consequent emotion of aversion or propensity, and are carryed to avoid or embrace what will give us this uneasines or satisfaction. It is also obvious, that this emotion rests not here, but making us cast our view on every side, comprehends whatever objects are connected with its original one by the relation of cause and effect. Here then reasoning takes place to discover this relation; and according as our reasoning varies, our actions receive a subsequent variation. But it is evident in this case that the impulse arises not from reason, but is only directed by it. It is from the prospect of pain or pleasure that the aversion or propensity arises towards any object: And these emotions extend themselves to the causes and effects of that object, as they are pointed out to us by reason and experience. It can never in the least concern us to know, that such objects are causes, and such others effects, if both the causes and effects be indifferent to us. Where the objects themselves do not affect us, their connexion can never give them any influence; and it is plain, that as reason is nothing but the discovery of this connexion, it cannot be by its means that the objects are able to affect us.

Reason, as Hume said, is always the slave of the passions.  The involuntary urges that impel a philosopher to philosophize are different from the urges of the hedonist; but they are involuntary urges, nonetheless.

Another category of man considered wholly distinct from those who are "slaves of the passions" is the man of self-restraint: the ant, as opposed to the grasshopper in Aesop's fable.  Yet even the man of self-restraint is a slave to his passions.  The only difference is often that he has a lower "time-preference".
Time preference is the premium given to a desired situation sooner rather than later.  For example, in terms of control over resources, it is the premium given to a good according to its availability sooner rather than later.  A person will generally prefer a given quantity of a good sooner over the same quantity of the same good later.  A person may also prefer a slightly smaller quantity of a good sooner over a slightly larger quantity of the same good later.  However, if the quantity of the good acquired sooner were continually diminished, eventually its "soon-ness"-based premium would not be sufficient to make up for its diminution, and the later, greater amount of the good would be preferred.  Somebody with extremely high time preference would rather eat one peanut immediately than wait one day to acquire a year's supply of peanuts.  Somebody with extremely low time preference would forego eating peanuts for a whole year if it meant at the end of the year he would achieve one more peanut than he otherwise would.

Having a low time preference is often thought of as a form of "self-restraint": an ability to resist one's urges.  However, all our actions are impelled by our urges: even actions whose goals are long-term.
Let us say you have the choice illustrated above of "one peanut now" vs. "a year's supply of peanuts in one day"  (If you don't like peanuts substitute some preservable food you do like).  You look at the peanut in front of you; it looks delicious.  You have an urge to reach out and pop it in your mouth.  But then you think about what it would be like after just one day of waiting to have all the free peanuts you want for a whole year.  That notion is so attractive, that you have an urge to forego the peanut in front of you to make that excellent situation possible.  The urge that impelled you to forego the peanut is more distant-future-based; but it is an urge nonetheless.

Keep in mind that all urges are future oriented: even the highest time-preference urges.  Popping the peanut in one's mouth forthwith may occur in the very near future, but it occurs in the future nonetheless.  All urges relate to a desired state for one's "future self".  Those acts that are commonly considered to demonstrate "self-restraint" are actually just as self-oriented as any other act.  They are simply oriented toward a more distant future self than those acts that are commonly considered to exhibit "lack of self-restraint".

How Ends Contend

I claim that the ultimate goals of humans are products of feeling and not reason.  However, Roderick Long, as a eudaimonist, claims that what the teleological philosopher usually thinks of as ultimate goals are really penultimate goals (although he doesn't use that term) which serve as means to the one ultimate end of "eudaimonia".  These penultimate goals, he contends, are chosen according to reason.  In his lecture Economics and Its Ethical Assumptions, Long writes...

Now according to this tradition, why do they say that we have just one ultimate end? Why not say that we have lots, that there are lots of things we want: ice cream, fame, not being killed? We've got all these different things, but why suppose that they're all constituents of some big super-end? Well, I think part of the reason they think this is: what happens when you make trade-offs? Suppose there are two ultimate ends you have: ice cream and fame. Those are two ultimate ends you have, and they come in degrees. (That's why I didn't use not being killed, because that's less a matter of degree.) So you want more ice cream, and you want more fame. And sometimes those go together, like winning an ice-cream-eating contest. But still there are lots of cases where these goals might conflict, and so you have to do trade-offs, and decide between them.

If you're deciding between them, that's an action. Actions have to have a means-end structure, right? So if you're trying to decide how to trade off between ice cream and fame, then doing that must be a means to some end. Well, what is the end? It can't be the end of maximizing the ice cream, because you haven't decided whether that's what you're going to do. It can't be the end of maximizing fame, because you haven't decided that. It can't be the end of getting the maximization of both, because it's a trade-off — that's impossible. Instead, you're trying to maximize something of which these two are parts, some general, overall satisfaction — that's what you're trying to maximize. You might wonder whether "maximize" is even the right word, but anyway you're trying to promote some good that includes both of these intrinsic good; these are intrinsic parts of your overall good. And it's that sort of thing that leads the eudaimonists to think that whenever you're acting, you're always promoting some ultimate good of yours, some ultimate end or aim.

Let's consider a fleshed-out hypothetical case of Long's ice cream/fame example.  Let's say a man is at a karaoke bar-and-grill with some friends and the place is packed.  He takes a number for a turn at singing.  Then, just as his number comes up, the waiter brings a giant banana split to his table.  His friends are bunch of pigs, so he knows that if he goes up and sings, the banana split will be gone by the time he gets back.  But if he doesn't take his turn now, he will miss his chance to sing.  Now, he loves banana splits, but he also loves performing (he's quite a good singer).  So he is torn between his desire for ice cream and his desire for performing.  Ice cream and fame are, strictly speaking, not his ends but means.  The physical ice cream is a means to the goal of the delicious taste sensation that occurs when he is eating it.  And the act of performing is a means to the goal of the exhilarating sensation he gets while performing.
Now the eudaimonist would say the goals of taste sensation and "stage exhilaration" are not ultimate ends, but intermediary means to a single end.  A Tolkien geek would say their ethical doctrine is, "one end to rule them all, and one end to bind them" (which is not to say that I myself am a Tolkien geek, just that that is what one would say. [*-)]  The eudaemonist would argue this must be true, because the man chose between the two goals, choosing implies a criterion, and a criterion implies a "higher" goal.  The eudaemonist calls this higher goal "overall well-being" or (of course) eudaemonia.

This would seem to run counter to the Humean contention that goals such as taste sensation and stage exhilaration are truly ends, and are therefore creatures of the passions.  And it might follow from the following propositions:

1. Such goals are means, and we choose between them.  Choice implies deliberation.  Therefore we deliberate over such goals.
2. Deliberation is entirely a process of reason.
3. Such goals, therefore, are products of reason.

First of all, I insist that such goals are not products of reason.  The veracity of #3 would not follow from the veracity of #1 and #2.  To say that we choose between the goals of flavor and exhilaration is not to say we choose to have those goals in the first place.  The statement, "I choose to desire X" makes no sense.  One chooses to act upon desire, but not to feel the desire in the first place.  Let us grant for a moment that goals like flavor and exhilaration are not ends, but penultimate goals which are but means to the ultimate goal of eudaemonia.  Even if that were so, such penultimate goals, along with eudeamonia itself, must be creatures of feeling, because the notion of choosing to desire something makes no sense.
For example, the man in the karaoke bar does choose between the banana split and singing.  But he can't be said to choose to desire the banana split in the first place.  When he sees the dish, his eyes widen; he begins to salivate; the image of himself eating the thing involuntarily manifests before his mind's eye.  Neither can he be said to choose to want to sing in the first place.  That too is simply a manifest urge that arises in response to the opportunity to sing.

So #3 above is certainly not true.  Now how about #1 and #2?  #1 is true; choice does imply deliberation.  But I contend that #2 is false;  deliberation is not entirely a process of reason.  Reason is the power of the mind to form judgments by process of logic.  But what kind of logic decides the matter when a man in the bar chooses between ice cream and fame?  It is not calculation; he doesn't count "utils" in his head.  It is not by deduction nor is it by induction that he finally decides.
This is not to say he doesn't think about it.  To work toward a decision, he may reflect upon eating ice cream and singing in order to get a more full picture of exactly what each will entail.  He thereby comes to a greater grasp upon exactly what it will be like to eat the ice cream and to perform on the stage.
To achieve this fuller picture and greater grasp, it is true that he may use reason.  For example, he might think, "That big party over there is leaving.  Therefore, if I sang, I would have a smaller audience than I thought."  Each of the contending urges he feels might then either increase or diminish in intensity in response to the new, fuller notions in his head regarding the two potential experiences.  

But ultimately, the only product of such a thinking process, after all the facts have been gathered in his head, can still only be two contending urges: one for ice cream and the other for fame.  And these urges are unanalyzable givens; they are not susceptible to ratiocination.  For a time, the man suspends both urges in his psyche.  At the point of action, he will either be impelled by one urge or the other.  We say then that the action-impelling urge is, by definition, the stronger of the two.

The use of reason can be impelled by feeling.  And the conclusions reached by reason can have impacts upon feeling.  But final decisions between contending goals are always directly impelled by feeling, and it is not a matter of ratiocination regarding the maximization of some mysterious single ultimate end.

On Techniques

An essential characteristic of man is that he acts. Action is purposeful behavior, that is the behavior of rationally utilizing means for an ends. We call means that have material embodiment “technology.” We call means that do not have material embodiment “techniques”. Mankind has always been a rational animal, therefore he has always used technology and/or techniques.

When a bee constructs a beehive, the method of construction is not a technique. Nor is the beehive itself technology. This is because the bee itself does not “act”, strictly speaking. It exhibits behavior, but the “purpose” in the behavior is that of its genes, and not of its mind. Only mental purpose (rationality) makes a behavior an action. Most animal behavior is irrational.

Much human behavior is irrational too. When a human unthinkingly blinks, he does not “act”. The behavior has purpose (to clear out particles), but the purpose is that of his genes, not of his mind. Moderns tend to call what we consider ill-decided action “irrational”. For example, we often would call rain dances irrational. This is not so. Rain dances (as strange as it is to say) are rational. They are behavior with mental purpose. The rain dancer is utilizing means (the dance) for an end (rain). Of course it erroneous rationality, but it is rationality nonetheless.

Rational animals are always choosing between means to their various ends: “Do I fight, or do I run?”. The means of fighting and and the means of running are themselves mostly instinctual. But the choice between the two is rational. Rational animals are often choosing between means/techniques which they already know. But some rational animals can also invent new means/techniques.

For example, chimpanzees are known to strip branches of their leaves, and lower them into logs to harvest termites. They do not instinctively know how to do this. Therefore, some chimpanzee long ago must have figured it out, and other chimpanzees learned from observing him. That means the behavior is mentally purposive, and the stripping of the leaves qualifies as technique, and the stripped stick itself qualifies as technology.

While the non-rational behavior of instinct is passed on through heredity, technique is passed on through learning. Though it may dismay educationalists to hear this, learning doesn’t necessitate teaching. It only necessitates observation and reason. The learning chimpanzee sees(observation) the inventive chimpanzee utilize his new technique, and through his rationality becomes aware that the new technique could be a means to his end of eating termites.

Thus throughout the history of rationality in animals, technique was passed from one individual to another, and from one generation to the next, solely through observation until the development of spoken language. Spoken language enables the human animal to express his own ratiocinations to other humans using only sounds. This widened the range of techniques which could be passed on. Through speech, humans could pass on techniques such as “how to get a wife”, which they couldn’t pass on through observation. Through speech, techniques could be passed across great distances, especially in the memorable form of song (as in the agricultural poetry of Hesiod).

The development of the written language widened the possibilities yet further for the propagation of techniques. It made the verbal transmission of techniques more exact and less prone to loss. Writing also enabled people to invent techniques which required the use of arithmetic and geometry. In ancient Phoenicia, merchants used written arithmetic to improve their business practices. In ancient Mesopotamia, priest-bureaucrats used written algebra to improve their grain management techniques. And in ancient Egypt, priest-bureaucrats used written geometry to improve their land-surveying techniques.

Technique is a sub-class of means, and it is also a sub-class of knowledge. All new knowledge is attained in one of the following ways:

1. Instinct: Instinctive knowledge is knowledge that arises within the mind without any observation or ratiocination.
2. Authority: Belief in accounts told by other humans
3. Observation or Empirical Knowledge: Belief in sensory impressions
4. Induction: Finding patterns in facts and anticipating that that pattern will continue
5. Deduction: Finding necessary implications of certain facts

Techniques, by definition, are not instinctive (see above). Techniques also cannot be considered solely observational knowledge. Thinking, “That chimpanzee is getting termites with that stick” is observational knowledge. But thinking, “Perhaps I could get termites with a similar stick as well” is induction. Thinking, “When I planted seed this time last year I got a huge harvest” is observational knowledge. Thinking, “Perhaps if I do so again, I will get another big harvest” is induction.

 

The Dead, the Dumb, and the Rational

 

What sets "us" apart from the rest of the universe?

Dead things don’t reason, choose, or act. They just react. They are mindless assemblages of particles which only respond slavishly to the impulses given them.

Dumb animals don’t reason, choose, or act. They just behave. They are non-rational expressions of genes which only serve reflexively the end of propagating those genes. 

Humans and any other animals who have evolved reason are assemblages of particles as well; and we are also expressions of genes. But crowning all of this, we also have reason, will, and action. 

 

Know Thyself

 

"The true science and study of man is man."

-Pierre Charron

In the 5th century B.C., the Greek sophist Protagoras wrote,

"Man is the measure of all things."  

This statement is generally taken to refer to subjective truth, such as whether a woman is beautiful or a circumstance is happy.  But it can just as well be said of objective knowledge, such as whether the boiling point of water is 99.97 degrees Celcius.  Water may always boil under certain conditions whether man existed or not.  But the ascertainment of that fact is dependent on the mental and sensory powers of man.

As David Hume wrote,

"'Tis evident, that all the sciences have a relation, greater or less, to human nature: and that however wide any of them may seem to run from it, they still return back by one passage or another. Even. Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, and Natural Religion, are in some measure dependent on the science of MAN; since the lie under the cognizance of men, and are judged of by their powers and faculties."

"There is no question of importance, whose decision is not compriz'd in the science of man; and there is none, which can be decided with any certainty, before we become acquainted with that science."

  To be confident in our knowledge of things that are not self-evident, we must be confident in our method of learning about such things.  To be confident in that method, we should discover first any self-evident truths about how we, as men, learn.  There are no self-evident truths about other men.  The only self-evident truth a man has access to lies within himself.  As the science of man is thus most appropriately prior to all other sciences, the science of one's self is most appropriately prior to the science of man in general.

Or as Thales said,

"Know thyself."

 

Human Nature in the Theogony

This post is one in a series on the Epistemology and Worldview Throughout History.  Previously in this series: History in the Theogony.

The anthropomorphic aspects of Hesiod's gods also give the Theogony some interesting insights into human nature.  We have male striving: an eternal quest for women and power, and a perennial resentment of the son toward the father.  The nature of women according to Hesiod is outlined in my post History in the Theogony.  A further aspect of womankind is represented by Gaia and Rhea caring ultimately more for their children than for their husbands.  We also have an analysis of the virtues of the basileus (king or magistrate).  The basileus is said to be blessed by the Muses, and to engender justice (dike).

And an over-riding message is that the actions of man are impelled by qualities that are embodied in gods: Love, Strife, Jealousy, Hatred, etc.  The fates of mankind are decided by Zeus's agents such as the Fates and the Furies.

Next in this series: Ethics in the Theogony.

On Techniques

An essential characteristic of man is that he acts. Action is purposeful behavior, that is the behavior of rationally utilizing means for an ends. We call means that have material embodiment “technology.” We call means that do not have material embodiment “techniques”. Mankind has always been a rational animal, therefore he has always used technology and/or techniques.

When a bee constructs a beehive, the method of construction is not a technique. Nor is the beehive itself technology. This is because the bee itself does not “act”, strictly speaking. It exhibits behavior, but the “purpose” in the behavior is that of its genes, and not of its mind. Only mental purpose (rationality) makes a behavior an action. Most animal behavior is irrational.

Much human behavior is irrational too. When a human unthinkingly blinks, he does not “act”. The behavior has purpose (to clear out particles), but the purpose is that of his genes, not of his mind. Moderns tend to call what we consider ill-decided action “irrational”. For example, we often would call rain dances irrational. This is not so. Rain dances (as strange as it is to say) are rational. They are behavior with mental purpose. The rain dancer is utilizing means (the dance) for an end (rain). Of course it erroneous rationality, but it is rationality nonetheless.

Rational animals are always choosing between means to their various ends: “Do I fight, or do I run?”. The means of fighting and and the means of running are themselves mostly instinctual. But the choice between the two is rational. Rational animals are often choosing between means/techniques which they already know. But some rational animals can also invent new means/techniques.

For example, chimpanzees are known to strip branches of their leaves, and lower them into logs to harvest termites. They do not instinctively know how to do this. Therefore, some chimpanzee long ago must have figured it out, and other chimpanzees learned from observing him. That means the behavior is mentally purposive, and the stripping of the leaves qualifies as technique, and the stripped stick itself qualifies as technology.

While the non-rational behavior of instinct is passed on through heredity, technique is passed on through learning. Though it may dismay educationalists to hear this, learning doesn’t necessitate teaching. It only necessitates observation and reason. The learning chimpanzee sees(observation) the inventive chimpanzee utilize his new technique, and through his rationality becomes aware that the new technique could be a means to his end of eating termites.

Thus throughout the history of rationality in animals, technique was passed from one individual to another, and from one generation to the next, solely through observation until the development of spoken language. Spoken language enables the human animal to express his own ratiocinations to other humans using only sounds. This widened the range of techniques which could be passed on. Through speech, humans could pass on techniques such as “how to get a wife”, which they couldn’t pass on through observation. Through speech, techniques could be passed across great distances, especially in the memorable form of song (as in the agricultural poetry of Hesiod).

The development of the written language widened the possibilities yet further for the propagation of techniques. It made the verbal transmission of techniques more exact and less prone to loss. Writing also enabled people to invent techniques which required the use of arithmetic and geometry. In ancient Phoenicia, merchants used written arithmetic to improve their business practices. In ancient Mesopotamia, priest-bureaucrats used written algebra to improve their grain management techniques. And in ancient Egypt, priest-bureaucrats used written geometry to improve their land-surveying techniques.

Technique is a sub-class of means, and it is also a sub-class of knowledge. All new knowledge is attained in one of the following ways:

1. Instinct: Instinctive knowledge is knowledge that arises within the mind without any observation or ratiocination.
2. Authority: Belief in accounts told by other humans
3. Observation or Empirical Knowledge: Belief in sensory impressions
4. Induction: Finding patterns in facts and anticipating that that pattern will continue
5. Deduction: Finding necessary implications of certain facts

Techniques, by definition, are not instinctive (see above). Techniques also cannot be considered solely observational knowledge. Thinking, “That chimpanzee is getting termites with that stick” is observational knowledge. But thinking, “Perhaps I could get termites with a similar stick as well” is induction. Thinking, “When I planted seed this time last year I got a huge harvest” is observational knowledge. Thinking, “Perhaps if I do so again, I will get another big harvest” is induction.

 

Menger on Human Drives and Human Nature

This post is part of a series exploring Principles of Economics by Carl Menger.  The following explores content from chapter 2.

Previously in this series: Menger on Time and Uncertainty

NEEDS ARISE FROM OUR drives and the drives are imbedded in our nature. An imperfect satisfaction of needs leads to the stunting of our nature. Failure to satisfy them brings about our destruction. But to satisfy our needs is to live and prosper. Thus the attempt to provide for the satisfaction of our needs is synonymous with the attempt to provide for our lives and well-being. It is the most important of all human endeavors, since it is the prerequisite and foundation of all others.

Menger's second chapter of his Principles starts with this splendid paragraph. In it, he seems (to my relief) to veer away from his seeming emphasis on objective needs. By saying that needs arise from internal drives, and not from some externally objective notion of what is good for us, it seems that Menger really means "recognition of needs" or "desires" instead of "needs". For how can, for example, the objective need for a body to have water to survive be said to arise from our drives? No, only our recognition of our need for water, and our resultant desire for water can be said to arise from our drives.

In his references to nature, Menger shows his Aristotelean bent. Aristotle argued that all things have a nature, and a thing's nature is to evolve into the state into which it generally tends toward; such a state is the thing's purpose.

For Aristotle, man's purpose was the polis. Menger, in this paragraph, however, took Aristotle's teleological view of man, and turned it toward his individualist and subjectivist view. Instead of a political animal, whose nature is to live in and for a polis, man is an economizing animal, whose nature is to pursue the satisfaction of his needs/desires.

Next in this series: Menger on Requirements