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The
Desire for Belief Preservation
by Mano Singham
In the previous article we saw how human beings
are believed to not be natural critical thinkers, preferring
instead to believe in the first plausible explanation for anything
that comes along, not seeing these initial explanations as merely
hypotheses to be evaluated against competing hypotheses.
But one
might think that when we are exposed to alternative hypotheses,
we might then shift gears into a critical mode. But Tim van
Gelder, writing in the article Teaching Critical Thinking:
Some Lessons
from Cognitive Science (College Teaching, Winter 2005, vol.
53, No. 1, p. 41-46) argues that what foils this is the human desire
for belief preservation.
He quotes seventeenth century philosopher
Francis Bacon who said:
The mind of man is far from the nature
of a clear and equal glass, wherein the beams of things should
reflect according
to their
true incidence; nay, it is rather like an enchanted glass,
full of superstition and imposture, if it be not delivered
and reduced.
In other words, van Gelder says, "the
mind has intrinsic tendencies toward illusion, distortion,
and error." These
arise from a combination of being hard-wired in our brains
(because of evolution), natural growth of our brains
as we grow up in
the Earth's environment, and the influence of our societies
and cultures. "Yet, whatever their origin, they
are universal and ineradicable features of our cognitive
machinery,
usually
operating quite invisibly to corrupt our thinking and
contaminate our beliefs."
All these things lead us
to have cognitive biases and blind spots that prevent
us from seeing things more clearly,
and one of the
major blind spots is that of belief preservation. van
Gelder
says that "At root, belief preservation is the
tendency to make evidence subservient to belief, rather
than the
other way around. Put another way, it is the tendency
to use evidence
to preserve our opinions rather than guide them."
Van
Gelder says that when we strongly believe some thing
or desire it to be true, we tend to do three
things: "1. We seek evidence
that supports what we believe and do not seek and
avoid or ignore evidence that goes against it. .
. 2. We
rate evidence as good
or bad depending on whether it supports or conflicts
with our belief. That is, the belief dictates our
evaluation of the evidence,
rather than our evaluation of the evidence determining
what we should believe. . . 3. We stick with our
beliefs even in the
face of overwhelming contrary evidence as long as
we can find at least some support, no matter how
slender."
This would explain why (as vividly
demonstrated in the popular video A Private Universe)
people hold
on to their
erroneous
explanations about the phases of the moon even
after they have been formally
instructed in school about the correct explanation.
This
would also explain the question that started these musings: Why
for so long had I not applied
the same
kinds of questioning
to my religious beliefs concerning god, heaven,
etc. that I routinely applied to other areas
of my life?
The answer
is
that since I
grew up in a religious environment and accepted
the existence of god as plausible, I did not
seek other
explanations.
Any evidence in favor of belief (the sense of
emotional upliftment
that sometimes
occurs during religious services or private prayer,
or some event that could be interpreted to indicate
god's
action
in my life
or in the world, or scientific evidence that
supported a statement in the Bible) was seized on, while
counter evidence
(such a
massive death and destruction caused by human
or natural events, personal
misfortunes or tragedies, or scientific discoveries
that contradicted Biblical texts) was either
ignored or explained
away. It was
only after I had abandoned my belief in god's
existence that I was able to ask the kinds of questions that
I had hitherto
avoided.
Did I give up my belief because I
could not satisfactorily answer the difficult questions concerning
god?
Or did I start asking
those questions only after I had given up belief
in god? In some sense this is a chicken-and-egg
problem. Looking
back,
it is
hard to say. Probably it was a little of both.
Once I started taking some doubts seriously
and started
questioning,
this
probably led to more doubts, more questions,
until finally the religious
edifice that I had hitherto believed in just
collapsed.
In the series of articles dealing
with the burden of proof concerning the existence of god, I
suggested that if
we use the common
yardsticks of law or science, then that would
require that the burden of
proof lies with the person postulating the
existence of any entity (whether it be god
or a neutrino
or
whatever), and
that in the
absence of positive evidence in favor of
existence, the default assumption is to assume the non-existence
of
the
entity.
In a comment to one of those articles,
Paul Jarc suggested that the burden of proof actually
lay
with the person
trying to convince
the other person to change his views. It
may be that we are both right. What I was
describing
was
the
way that
I thought
things
should be, while Paul was describing the
way things are in actual life, due to the
tendency
of human
beings to
believe
the first
thing that sounds right and makes intuitive
sense, coupled with the desire to preserve
strong beliefs
once formed.
Van Gelder ends up his article
with some good advice:
Belief preservation strikes right
at the heart of our general processes of rational
deliberation.
The
ideal
critical
thinker is aware of the phenomenon,
actively monitors her thinking
to detect its pernicious influence,
and deploys compensatory strategies.
Thus, the ideal critical thinker
• puts extra effort into
searching for and attending to evidence that contradicts what
she currently believes;
•
when “weighing up” the arguments for and against,
gives some “extra credit” for
those arguments that go against
her position; and
• cultivates a willingness
to change her mind when the evidence starts mounting against
her.
Activities
like these do not come easily. Indeed, following
these
strategies often feels quite
perverse. However,
they are there
for self-protection; they
can help you protect your own beliefs
against
your
tendency to
self-deception, a bias
that is your
automatic inheritance as
a human being.
As Richard Feynman said, “The
first principle is that you
must not fool yourself –
and you are the easiest person
to fool.”
The practice
of science requires us
to routinely think this
way. But it
is not
easy to do
and even scientists
find it
hard to
give up their cherished
theories in the face of contrary evidence.
But
because
scientific
practice
requires
this kind of thinking,
this may also be why science
is perceived as 'hard'
by the general
public.
Not because of
its technical
difficulties,
but because
you are constantly being
asked to give up beliefs
that seem
so naturally true and intuitively
obvious.
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