The Myth of Rationality: Addenda
by Lee Frank

A related question: How did all those famous writers of the first half of the last century drink so much and still produce such good books? Of course, none lived to be old writers: Faulkner, 64; Fitzgerald, 44; Hemingway, 62; Lewis, 65; O'Neill, 65; and Steinbeck, 66. Some writers still claim they can write and drink. (A Google search for "writing and drinking" produces 2.7 million hits!) But I've never heard a writer claim the ability to drink and edit.
        It's delusional to think one can drink and think. When David McCullough said, thinking is writing, he meant editing — that is, rewriting. He was also echoing what many writers have said, namely that writing is really rewriting. If you're looking for a good example of thinking, try editing. I mean try it in your head. Writers edit on paper (or a computer screen). Impossible in your head, except perhaps for short aphorisms. Editing is a great example of thinking because it is thought refining thought.
        The answer to the question of how those writers did it is easy: the creative component of writing is less hindered by alcohol than the rational process of editing. But problem-solving and decision-making require both creativity and rationality. Reason, by itself, can no more result in good decisions than in good art. Without creativity, imagination, wisdom, and common sense (to mention a few useful human attributes), reason alone is grossly inadequate. And only those believing in the Myth of Rationality think otherwise.

The human mind is a marvelous device for making sense of the world it inhabits, but it has no need to make more sense than is necessary at any given moment. It is not likely to question every detail of a world it believes it understands sufficiently well. That concept was well articulated by the exceptional mind of Herbert A. Simon when he called it, satisficing. Some of us are never really satisfied with what we (think we) know. And some of us, like Herb Simon, are smart enough to know we are not the norm — or more accurately, not the Homer Simpsons — of this world.
        There's an old joke about the traveler who nearly drowned crossing the small pond. When he asked the farmer why he said the pond was not very deep, the farmer replied, "It was only up to here on the duck." Sufficient information for the non-pond-crossing farmer. For most people, the voice of the ventriloquist's dummy has to come from somewhere. And since only the dummy's lips are moving, that's good enough.
        Good enough (satisficing) is different for different people under different circumstances. But it's how most — if not nearly all — humans and their ancestors have functioned. To suggest otherwise, that they should examine the world in greater detail than meets their immediate needs, does them a disservice. It suggests their methods were inadequate. They weren't. What their methods were was exactly that: adequate — and no more. The fact that we're here proves that.

To scale the heights of irrationality we need look no further than politicians in love. I feel sorry for anyone in the irrational bear hug of love. Like you I've been there, and, as a being who strives for some degree of rationality, I have to admit it isn't a pretty picture. But love isn't the only human condition that undermines our rationality. That list is endless. Try as we might, the laws of God or man can't safeguard our rationality. Only our willingness to be humble (something politicians aren't known for) and heed the counsel of others can help us.
        Unfortunately, that formula is also flawed. Taking the counsel of subordinates has toppled many a person of power. The counsel of those without your welfare at the top of their agenda often leads to disaster. Listening to too few obscures the big picture; listening to too many leads to confusion as often as consensus. There are no easy answers. However, heeding only your own counsel — believing your rationality is unassailable — is a sure path to destruction.
        So I'll say it again: we are not rational all the time or in all situations. We can only aspire to rationality. Meanwhile, we can learn ways to detect its absence and test its validity. We can, that is, only if we're willing to accept our limitations in the first place. (Again, not something for which ego-driven politicians are known.)

When it comes to understanding our brains, we consistently underestimate how much of the brain is functional before birth. This is another example of our rational-centric point of view. Impressed with our grownup "rational" brains, we don't appreciate how much the brain must accomplish to achieve even the simplest things that come naturally to all infants.
        AI seeks intelligence from computers, but intelligence is a property of minds while computers are still only electronic brains. If there's anything more difficult than creating artificial intelligence, it's understanding how brains create minds. (And, no, you can't simply say minds are an emergent property of brains.) Furthermore, since computer brains are very different from human (or even mammalian) brains, the task of getting from computer brains to the human-like minds needed for human-like intelligence is very daunting indeed.
        The obvious alternative for AI is to establish a more general definition of intelligence and then create machines capable of meeting that definition. I would suggest the first step is to define how an intelligence learns from its mistakes. Secondly, I would recommend discovering how an intelligence chooses its goals. Thirdly, I would pursue a description of how an intelligence chooses its strategies to achieve those goals. This last requires an intelligence capable of learning the limitations of its mental tools and choosing the appropriate one. And to make changes along the way. These are some of the intelligence skills available to an average three-year old. Good luck.

Actually, I know other examples of very smart people who've done very dumb things. Evariste Galois (dead at 21 because of a duel!) and Robert Oppenheimer (represented self at his Senate loyalty hearing) are two that come to mind. However, I don't think there are many examples because a) there aren't that many very smart people, and b) not many of them have done really dumb things that we've heard about. On the other hand, I'm sure if you asked any really smart person, most would admit to doing a dumb thing or two.

Exactly! "Conscious and deliberate" is precisely — and consistently — what those who believe not only in superior intelligence but also in the absolute value of superior intelligence, assume to be the essence of intelligence. Because they are so impressed with their own ability to perform high-level "conscious and deliberate" reasoning, they take for granted it is the bedrock of intelligence.
        Hardly. It is, of course, an aspect of intelligence. Yet they forget the obvious: that evolution has formed brains that suffice, producing answers that are good enough. Perfection doesn't even enter into natural selection because — as anyone who has ever attempted it knows — perfection takes time. When it comes to evolution, there are only the quick and the dead. Taking time you don't have to strive for a perfection you don't really need, is a sure path to extinction.
        True intelligence (for humans) is knowing how much time you have for a good enough solution you can afford with the resources at hand. Calculating the exact trajectory of the rock approaching your head is not nearly as valuable as simply ducking. You may not wish to define that as intelligence, but without it our ancestors would have vanished long ago. And you would not be reading this.

This relationship between superiority and success (or even survival) extends beyond intelligence to many areas. One is technology. Today's essential technology, in all areas, is computing. Do you really think the hardware, the software, and especially the operating systems of your computer are the most technology advanced? Read the early history of Microsoft on how a series of lucky accidents launched their success. Then examine the monopolist practices they used to dominate the PC world. Microsoft's dominance has very little to do with technological superiority.
        And one more example of "great" technology. Every one I ever talked to who owned the Sony Betamax video format was convinced it would triumph over JVC's VHS format — because Betamax was oh so technologically superior. Didn't happen. In the end, there is some disagreement as to why Betamax failed (even though it got to market a year before VHS, usually a significant advantage). Some claim it was because Sony refused to allow pornography. But there is no doubt that Betamax tapes were only 60 minutes long, compared to VHS's 2 hours — an obvious drawback when it came to movies.
        It's hard to understand how anyone can assume that any single factor (like intelligence or technology) can determine the success of any particular product or person. And what's even more disturbing is this attitude often comes from very intelligent, highly-educated people. Perhaps they are what Keith E. Stanovich calls cognitive misers: oversimplifying our overly complex world. Not a strategy for long-term survival.

A prime example of this are the written descriptions of various scientific discoveries. It has long been acknowledged these authors reconstruct the actual process to make it appear what it was not: a perfectly logical sequence. While this benefits the reader in understanding the discussion, it obscures the non-logical aspects of the actual process. Even when an author admits to an intuitive insight, the entire procedure never reflects the true hit-and-miss, humanly-flawed operations of the actual discovery. Making it presentable is only part of the justification, a mere cosmetic. More importantly, authors prefer to present themselves as their rational ideal rather than their real, occasionally fallible, selves.

Flying in commercial airlines has become much safer since they instituted a decision-making strategy called CRM (Cockpit Resource Management). It came about because of ". . . large 1979 NASA study . . . concluded that many cockpit mistakes were attributable . . to the 'God-like certainty' of the pilot in command." (Jonah Lehrer) A mind in total control tends to act as an isolated mind, and isolated minds don't make the best decisions. CRM (now also called Crew Resource Management) has been so effective it's been adopted by other people who have your life in their hands: surgical teams. What it does, simply, is encourage teams to work together. "It deters certainty and stimulates debate." (Ibid.)
        That's the good news: we've recognized the limitations of one person's mind when "controlling" a team. The bad news is CRM is also desperately needed in other "team" situations — business and government are the two that immediately leap to the forefront. Notwithstanding the obvious, all organizations have institutional or ad hoc teams within them that they depend upon for rational decision-making, whether it's reacting to emergencies (think Katrina) or to long-term strategic planning (think Iraq). Clearly, they — and we — could all benefit from the application of CRM.
        Despite the advances of CRM, what we as a society and as individuals haven't dealt with is one person's mind when it thinks it's in control of itself. Most people don't even understand the relationship of mind to brain, believing their mind is in control of their brain. Kafka spoke of our "inner labyrinth" which is "constantly rising up to trouble the straight lines within which we capture reality." This is the subconscious which undermines (under minds) our conscious attempts to deal with the world as the over-simplified (i.e., rational) beings we think we are.
        In fact, the situation is much more like a team than we, within our fragile individuality, can imagine. We are but the summary, a crude consensus, of our competing inner agencies. For example, ". . . each of us pretends that the mind is in full agreement with itself, even when it isn't. We trick ourselves into being sure." (Jonah Lehrer) Why? Because we must. If we didn't, we'd be like Congress — all talk (mostly inside our heads) and no action.

The view of man as rational is promoted by those at top of the rational food chain. In this, it is no different from the views of man as political, or economic, or spiritual. Just as those who only possess a economic hammer see everything as an economic nail, so those with only a rational hammer, etc. These high priests of rationality (or spirituality or economics, etc.) not only create the definitions and call the shots, they have the say as to who's in and who's out. But rationality is no more the be-all and end-all of what man is than spirituality or economics or politics or whatever. It is only one aspect and, at that, not a necessary aspect of every single person.
        Rationality without scientific methodology yields opinions, not facts. The scientific method was created to solve many problems, not the least to overcome the shortcomings of reason. The history of science (if we include all thought aimed at understanding the physical world) is not only the history of scientific progress but also a useful record of failed reasoning. Today's scientists are not smarter than Plato or Aristotle, but they have better cognitive tools to supplement their reasoning. (And an immense compilation of the errors of others they can not only learn from but avoid.)

So far, nature is still ahead of man in the unexpected taking of human lives (e.g., the lowest estimate for the 1918 Pandemic is over three times that of the contemporaneous World War One). But man (political correctness not withstanding, these are still referred to as manmade disasters) is catching up. A list of manmade disasters is too long for this essay. Whether large (in numbers of casualties, like Titanic, Bhopal, Chernobyl, or Katrina) or spectacular (like Challenger and Colombia), they interest the public more as news or entertainment than problems to be solved.
        Analyzing these disasters, seeking solutions, is too large a topic for any single book. Here are some of the more prominent ones: To Engineer Is Human: The Role of Failure in Successful Design, Henry Petroski; Normal Accidents, Charles Perrow; Why Things Bite Back: Technology and the Revenge of Unintented Consequences, Edward Tenner; Inviting Disaster: Lessons From the Edge of Technology, James R. Chiles; and Flirting with Disaster: Why Accidents Are Rarely Accidental, Marc S. Gerstein and Michael Ellsberg.