The Myth of Rationality
by Lee Frank

This is a brief paper on the limitations of rationality and its ineffectiveness in an age when life-reversing surprises lurk behind every TV Breaking News interruption. Although we know that it's not likely the next Breaking News will be of any import (let alone actually be news), we live in continual subliminal fear that the next interruption will be just that — news that will break us.
        In such an age, we need more than better information and greater insight. We need to transcend rationality so that we can quickly develop and apply new, more effective cognitive tools. Specifically, we need new ways of thinking about the unthinkable, i.e., events and processes we didn't know existed, things for which we don't have words — or thoughts. We need that, and some of our ancient ancestor's skills of adaptability and resilience — and a whole lot of good old-fashioned evolutionary luck.

When discussing rationality, we must not confuse these three things: rationality, intelligence, and being smart. The first, rationality, is an applied tool of cognition, just one of many used in problem-solving. Intelligence and being smart are inherent capabilities, often useful in problem-solving. But being smart and having intelligence are two different things.
        Yet, the common presumption is that smart equates with intelligence. But intelligence is not clearly defined. It is either the vague concept of general intelligence (we all know what we mean by it), or a number of independent abilities (Sternberg, Gardner), or simply what is measured by IQ tests. The latter are supposed to be predictive measurements. But high IQ scores don't necessarily translate into practical problem-solving. The explanation is simple: our assumption that intelligence and being smart go together is simply that, an assumption. When examined scientifically, there is at best only a weak positive correlation (0.30).
        However, what we think of as smart can be measured — after the fact. If a person makes a number of decisions whose consequences over time are generally accepted to be excellent, then we use that as a predictor of future smart decisions. But there is no guarantee: the next flip of this mental coin will still be only a probability. The only thing that really counts is whether this next decision is a smart decision. Keep in mind that rationality most definitely is not is an inherent ability; it is just the application of a specific tool (one of many) to problem solving. To consider it as more important than other tools can lead to disaster. Hence, the Myth of Rationality.
        One final word on smart. Usually associated with intelligence, it is universally acknowledged to be distinct from both common sense and wisdom. When faced with the need to solve problems we should ask, is a solution intelligent if it is not moderated by either common sense or wisdom?

It was Aristotle who originally said man is a rational animal. I doubt he meant man is rational as opposed to the other animals that aren't. Animals are neither rational nor irrational; they are ruled by necessity, not by reason or its lack.
        Man, on the other hand, considers himself rational primarily because his overwhelming trust in his rationality — not because of its effectiveness. We are so convinced of the superior power of our minds — our rationality — we even believe it to be a, if not the, primary factor in our survival as a species. (We believe our reason makes us more fit for survival than other creatures.) This blind belief in rationality frequently leads to irrationality. Yet, man remains convinced his thought processes are rational. Rather, they are mostly rationalizations driven by forces far beneath his conscious reason.
        The most direct illustration of the extent of rationalization is the drug addict (actually, any addict). These people easily supply a complete rationale for this behavior — especially to themselves. Smart people generally believe their will (i.e., their intellect) is stronger than any addiction. But addicts (and their behavior) are not significantly different from the rest of us. We are all deluded to some degree as to the truth and significance of our reason. We are deluded sufficiently such that society spends massive amounts to measure the rationality of our children: the grades given in schools, the SATs, and IQ tests used everywhere. But measuring rationality is not nearly as deleterious — both to society and the individuals measured — as believing in the results of those measurements.
        Drug addiction, with a history of nearly two centuries, is not a new scourge. But humans have dealt with the influence of alcohol for millennia, even before recorded history. Many of the great minds of history decanted their great ideas with their wine, debated them over barley and hops, delineated them after dinner with sherry or brandy. Despite all these countless encounters, we find no especial evidence of impaired reason.
        But when someone gets behind the wheel of a car after more than two drinks, we — as individuals and as a society — severely question their ability to reason. How could a rational person overlook such impaired motor skills? Yet a few drinks doesn't seem to affect most people's ability to carry on apparently rational conversations. Or does it? Perhaps our conversations aren't as rational as we believe they are — even when sober. So why would a few drinks have any noticeable effect?

What's amazing is that despite the awkwardness of this portmanteau (of satisfy and suffice) fabricated in 1957, it has prevailed for over fifty years. And that alone, I believe, proves its usefulness. Unfortunately, its clumsiness has hindered its penetration into the mainstream mind. Simon coined it to describe a strategy he thought more effective in the long run than the commonly accepted economic goal of maximizing. He wanted a word to delineate a clear contrast, ergo satisficing versus maximizing. And of all the better synonyms — adequate, competent, good enough, sufficient, suitable, up to scratch — none makes his point as well as satisficing.
        As I said earlier, rationalizations are driven by forces far beneath conscious reason. Yet, even though we are largely controlled by forces hidden within us, the result is not always for the worst. We survive despite being pulled this way and that by our unruly unconscious. We can get by without controlling it, because it is sufficiently rational. The somewhat sad truth is that in our highly structured industrial society (like our highly structured roadways) we don't really need all that much rationality simply to survive. Most of our actions are safely channeled by an rational infrastructure (evolved over time) that we, as individuals, rarely acknowledge.
        I've stated we believe in rationality because we trust our reason. But we have no choice. We cannot be expected to mistrust our reasoning any more than we would mistrust our perceptions. We have to assume both are good enough to rely on (most of the time) or else we simply could not function, period. In much the same way, we trust our memory, our balance, our digestion, and so on. We know that our abilities and our faculties are not perfect (nor are we, their sum) but to operate without strain and stress from moment to moment, day to day, we have to trust they are good enough. And they usually are. Our problems come when we are too slow or too stubborn to recognize when they aren't. Or, worse, whenever we assume they, and we, could not possibly be wrong.

Most of us are so locked into the Myth of Rationality, one of the worst things one person can say to another is: You're being irrational. We continue to expect rationality, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Not only is rationality relatively rare in human behavior, it is rarer still to find it unalloyed within an individual. People may apply reason on the job, sometimes two-thirds of their waking hours, yet they might fill their free time in highly irrational pursuits (religious cults, UFOs, numerology, astrology, etc.). Even scientists have been known to have feet of irrational clay (e.g., Isaac Newton and alchemy).
        Humans talk a good game when it comes to rationality, but let's face it: we spend a ton of time in irrational thought and conversations. Examples? Religion is a belief system founded on faith, not reason, and hard to defend as rational. Nevertheless, religion is not number one on the irrational list when you look at the various manifestations of love. Look at the amount of time people spent in delusional talking and thinking about relationships: wanting to make them work, wanting to get into them, wanting to get out of them, wondering why whatever they want isn't working, etc.
        Beyond these, look at all the irrational junk in the air about politics. Unless you're a paid political pundit, most political talk takes the form of my position is different from yours — and you're wrong. I doubt anyone with a fixed political position (I am a fill-in-the-blank) is even capable of rational political thought or expression.
        And more. How much of people's time is spent in the irrationalities of prejudice? But that stupidity is small next to this one: fandom. Some may say women's gossip is irrational, but it's nothing compared to men and their sports talk. Not all of fantalk (or gossip) is irrational, but a lot is. And the behavior of people fanatical about their home team, regardless of its performance, is closer to religion than reason.
        I could go on, but you get the point. Or at least you do if you're rational.

I don't believe anyone can fully appreciate the workings of the rational mind — or its shortcomings — until they've spent a few years making full-sized real world computer programs. Nothing else, not even science or math, is as demanding of clear-cut logical consistency because it is regularly tested in the real world.
        The only other endeavor that comes close is engineering, but too often engineers can't fully test their designs and must rely on published data. Some engineers learn their limitations and design with additional margins for safety; some don't. However, all experienced computer programmers know their constructs may have unrevealed flaws no matter how much they test.
        They also know reason is just one tool used by human intelligence and the successful use of any tool requires knowing its limitations. Without humility, reason (or its stiff-necked sister, logic) can only get itself into trouble. Unfortunately, the products of reason outside the programming world — speech, the written word, government legislation — are often assumed by their creators to be correct beyond question.
        More unfortunately, the users of common reason are often unaware of the other factors, such as emotion, that determine and undermine their supposedly carefully reasoned conclusions. Unaware, they tend to further support those conclusions (and their reasoning) with unsubstantiated facts, incomplete statistics, and unquestioned assumptions.
        And most unfortunate is that they defend those conclusions as if the accuracy and rigor of each and every one were flawless. All in the name of reason, a methodology they don't know how to apply — nor are they able to appreciate its deficiencies. Without the actual testing of reasoning, as in the use of computer programs, no one can assume perfection. Not even the smartest among us.

Selecting is just another term for decision-making. And if this selection — of the knowledge that is important to us — is emotional, then not only is it not conscious, it most certainly is not a conscious rational process. And if the basis of our thought is not rationally selected knowledge, then how can we expect our thought to be rational?
        Still, many people think emotion is the enemy of rationality. Certainly uncontrolled emotion is. Yet decision-making — the application of rationality to choice — requires emotion to supply meaning for decisions. Decision-making without meaning is, well, meaningless. To eliminate emotion from decisions is at least as detrimental as eliminating context.
        When economists speak of rational choice, they acknowledge such choices may not be conscious. They speak of rational choice, while ignoring the simple truth that people's ability to evaluate the consequences of their actions varies wildly. Yet they continue to speak of the rational choices of consumers, employing the word rational as though describing the mental processes of a chess grandmaster. Nor do they acknowledge that there is no shared objective rationality: each person's rationality is based not on objective facts but on that person's subjective perception of the facts.
        Further, economists judge those subconscious choices to be rational based on the actions taken. But cognitive scientists have yet to discover how this subconscious "rational" mechanism works — or even if it exists. This small detail doesn't prevent economists from continuing to call it rational. So I have to ask: where is the "rationality" in all this? And I have to answer: it is a contrived concept imposed upon the data by and for the convenience of the economists. Scientific, it ain't.

The concept of Bounded Rationality is useful but doesn't begin to explain the shortcomings of human decision-making. The factors interfering with effective decision-making are literally too many to list. However, one obvious fact is that there are always other forces influencing decisions, whether those decisions are being made (or avoided) by individuals, families, businesses (of all sizes), governments (at all levels), or NGOs of every size.
        Decision-making theory assumes an executive, whether an individual or a committee. This executive is often influenced (and sometimes controlled) by things, people, and forces outside the decision-making process. And because these outside determinants are beyond the reasoning of the executive, they are — by definition — irrational.
        Evaluating the relative success or failure of a decision depends on two additional considerations. One is that the resources needed to implement the decision are often difficult to control. The other are long-term consequences, which are even more difficult to forecast. Yet, as important as both these components are, they are often inadequately addressed in the decision-making process. Obviously they are far more dependent upon externalities than the other aspects of the decision-making process.
        Finally, there is the predicament of focus. A decision that attempts to be too broad will never account for all the relevant details. A decision that chooses to be too narrow will quickly collapse under unpredicted consequences. Given all these obstacles, decision-making cannot hope to be a science; it would be lucky to be an art. More likely, it will remain just another human frailty.

Much of Artificial Intelligence (AI) is based on the Myth of Rationality, i.e., emotionless decision-making machines without consciousness or a self. But in fact, all these — emotions, consciousness, and self — are required for human reasoning. The faults of AI are even more relevant for what is termed Strong AI, referring to a degree of artificial intelligence that it is intelligent in important ways, e.g., to be more intelligent than humans.
        There are those who think a conscious, intelligent self could exist without emotions (e.g., the original Star Trek gave us Mr. Spock, then Star Trek, the Next Generation gave us Commander Data). But while problem solving (as opposed to problem selecting) may be achieved without considering values (except those implicit in the selected problem), decisions are a function of meaning and there is no meaning without emotion.
        Many in AI speak as though their proposed devices will be super-intelligent and therefore infallible. They forget what Alan Turing said in 1947: ". . . if a machine is expected to be infallible it cannot also be intelligent." He said this because he was a very intelligent human being who understood its limitations.
        Albert Einstein is often cited as an epitome of intelligence. However, Einstein said when solving problems his thought was mostly visual! How does that fit any description of mechanized or even rational thought? It doesn't. But then Einstein, when solving problems, was being creative, and creative thought is rarely mistaken for rational thought.
        AI, especially Strong AI, has other flaws. It concentrates on only one of the mind's tools — intelligence. The easiest way to implement intelligence is in its only measurable form: problem solving. But is problem solving more important than problem selecting? And what about imagination? Who wants a super-intelligent machine supplying unimaginative answers to a problem with less than the highest priority?

One presumption, if not the central presumption, of the Myth of Rationality is that if is good to be rational, then it is better to be more rational. Another way to say this is, superior intelligence is inherently more advantageous. But is it? And what is superior intelligence?
        We believe smart children (defined by grades, SATs, and IQ) become smart people. And they probably will. But no one is smart all the time and in all situations. The greatest mind of the first half of the twentieth century, Albert Einstein, could be unbelievably dumb on occasion. On hundreds of occasions, actually. He loved sailing. Alone. For many hours at a time (so he could think his great thoughts). But he couldn't swim. And didn't wear a life jacket. Not smart.
        Yet the belief that smarter is better, nay unequivocally better, is untarnished. This despite the endless examples of the smarter leading the smart into disaster after disaster. From Vietnam to Iraq (with a little Enron thrown in for variety), inevitably, it's the Smartest Guys In The Room who make the biggest mistakes. This is so not just because others defer to them (and have deferred for most of their lives because of their supposed exceptional rationality), but because they continue to defer to each other's supposed exceptional rationality.
        While intelligence can be measured, it can only be measured in the particular. The highest general intelligence, no matter how lofty, is only statistically more likely to get the right answer; it cannot be infallible. And history has shown time and again that superior intelligence is better at self-deception than solving problems (Robert McNamara in Vietnam and Donald Rumsfeld in Iraq).
        One of the common errors of superior intelligence is when smart people believe their reasoning and conclusions are better than those around them. (We sometimes perceive this as ego.) Robert McNamara — one of Vietnam's original Whiz Kids — recanted in 2005, thirty years after the end of the Vietnam war and just a few years before his death in 2009. It's unlikely Rumsfeld will live thirty years beyond his misdeeds, so we shouldn't expect him to gain the perspective necessary to admit the errors of his ways.

Our brains are built to make sense — that is find patterns — in anything, even nonsense. (Or noise, which might explain ghost sightings.) What they are not built to do is make good sense, that is, the best sense possible. Rather, the sense they make is merely good enough, a slipshod approach perhaps but one that does not require great intelligence or extensive resources. It's goal is simple survivability. Our predecessors did not have the luxury to find the best answers, only those good enough to survive the next life-threatening situation. Their survivability is what got us here. But survival of the fittest within a species is not relevant for survival of the species. Survivability for a whole species needs numbers, not just the cream of the crop. We're here because of the survival of the sufficiently fit, all those good enough — even barely good enough — to move on to the next level.
        Over forty years ago, I asked "Why is it that a man will admit others to be smarter than he is, but not believe that anyone else can reason better?" Now I know why. You only need to be intelligent enough, that is above the necessary threshold for this particular problem. Once above that threshold, your reasoning may be as good as the next person — regardless if that person is a genius.
        This is why superior intelligence is not the answer. Success, or simply better decision-making, doesn't depend on intelligence alone — which is why more intelligence doesn't give better answers. Decision-making requires many factors, the simplest of which is common sense and the most complex is management of resources. What it does require in the way of intelligence is just enough. That is, you only need to be smart enough to deal with this problem. Once you pass the threshold, a better result depends more on how you use that intelligence than how much you have. In this it is exactly like natural selection: once you have the basic capability, your success or failure depends on how you use it.

Ouroboros, the ancient symbol of a serpent (or dragon) eating (or swallowing) its own tail, is usually associated with cyclicality (re-creation, the eternal return). Jung, not surprisingly, said it was archetypal, even relating it to alchemy. But why a serpent/dragon? Isn't this a creature to be feared? And how does a dangerous creature relate to eternal return? Isn't re-creation a positive thing? Think about the meaning: a fearsome living thing feeding on itself.
        I suggest Ouroboros symbolizes reason. The snake devouring its own tail is a most appropriate representation for the Myth of Rationality. Reason, in isolation, literally feeds upon itself. Bereft of any other cognitive tool, the reason-addicts, those dependent solely on reason, go round and round, compounding rationalizations until they destroy their minds, if not their very lives. Reason, without the input of even minimal observation and experience, goes nowhere. (The vulgar expression for failed reason inverts the Ouroboros' image: inserting one's head up one's ass.)
        The Myth of Rationality is demonstrated also by the rarity of its occurrence — much like unicorns. Even at it's best, Rationality is not, and never was, a 24/7 operation. Yet, when discussed by most philosophers, you'd think we humans were Rationality 'R Us. Nonsense. Literally. Geniuses, our highest practitioners of rationality, are thought by some to be akin to the insane. It would be more accurate to say the highly rational are often highly irrational. As are we all. But we don't expect it from those of greater intelligence because we assume they also possess greater rationality.

Rationality is a myth not because we reason, but because we trust our reason. Despite its many failures, we not only believe in our reason, we believe to excess. We do so beyond any justification. (I could have said beyond all reason.) We ignore the warnings, deficiencies that should be a constant reminder to be skeptical, always.

Speaking is similar to walking in that we have an intent and begin in a particular direction (goal-oriented). Aware of what we're doing along the way, we adjust — and sometimes that adjustment takes us to a different place. In both cases, speaking and walking, we are making it up as we go along because we're conscious of what we're doing and adjust automatically based on our progress (i.e., feedback, comparison to the immediate past). But we don't consciously make these adjustments. However, we are much more aware of how this process works when we write (as I am doing now).
        Given this description, I'm not so sure there is such a thing as rational thought, as it is commonly perceived. How is rational thought any different from my listening to me talking to myself? If that's supposed to be rational thought, then is it any different from how we are aware when speaking out loud? In other words, I am aware of what I'm saying to myself internally (and even aware of my being aware). The supposed rationality of the process derives from what I say to myself — and how is that any different from my speaking out loud?
        This kind of thinking has intention, which I may or may not feel, but the process of thought itself is hidden from me in that I can only observe it after the fact, whether it's my internal or external spoken thoughts. Is this not similar to when we explain how something works? That is, we simply express what we already know (connecting chunks of memory).
        But, you ask, what about the rational thought that solves problems or plays chess? From observing myself in both these tasks, I find only two processes. One is when it happens too fast for me to be aware of all the steps. That may be rational thought, but my conscious self is not in total control. The other is when I'm aware of verbalizing the steps — whether to myself or out loud. That is also not controlling the process, although I may adjust it in midstream. That adjustment is no different from adjusting where I'm walking: I'm aware of a need to change, but I don't consciously choose it.
        I suggest that most thought is like most speech. We are repeating or rearranging things from memory. As an illustration of the exception that tests the rule, during the Watergate hearings, the media often remarked on the unusual speech of Senator Howard H. Baker, Jr. (R-TN) in that he spoke in complete paragraphs. That is, he spoke in a series of connected sentences that dealt with a single thought or topic. I have never heard that description of a speaker before or since. How did he do it? How does any skilled writer toss off coherent paragraphs? Practice, which is a product of discipline, something most people never apply to their reasoning skills.

The limitations of reason are also the limitations of an isolated mind. Thinking to ourselves is unexamined thought. Truly rational thought, on the other hand, is a product of interaction with other minds. Other minds are what create our extended mind, a mind with language enabled by other minds. An isolated mind has neither language nor thought as we humans know it. Rationality is a multi-person game. Even writing down your reasons will enhance your rationality. If the isolated mind were self-sufficient to any practical degree, then solitary confinement would not be such a dreadful punishment.
        The Extended Mind is both the oldest and newest of concepts. Oldest in that it is how we evolved. As humans, our distinct evolutionary advantage is our consciousness. Without it, we have no verbal communication and therefore no extended mind. Newest in that it is at the forefront of the latest time management techniques for productivity. Here I refer to David Allen's popular book and seminar series Getting Things Done (also known by its acronym, GTD).

And human minds. It's not simply that we have these extended minds, that we function better by extending our minds. We humans evolved because of this extended mind. Our ancestors were those who were better at extending their minds. Some, like the cave painters at Lascaux managed to extend their minds over 30,000 years into the future. A pretty fair accomplishment even when compared to words on the World Wide Web that encircle the globe in about a twentieth of a second.

If cognition is a tool kit, then what are the tools? So far, we've been discussing conscious rational thought and subconscious leaps and insights. But there are also specific techniques such as DeBono's lateral (versus vertical) thinking. Then there's the need to challenge assumptions; verifying what you think you know; admitting when you don't know and asking for help; knowing when to frame the question better (asking the right questions); knowing when a solution is sufficient and stopping; knowing how to manage resources (especially time) when solving problems — and this is just a quick list from the top of my head. And I just realized I'd left out one of the most important: deriving better rules of thumb. And another: developing better external aids to thought, that is, extending the extended mind. Enough for now, but you get the idea, i.e., lots of tools. Which makes it all the more important to know when and how to use the appropriate tool.
        The best tool in your toolkit is only effective if you know when and how to use it. Corollary: Knowing how to use a tool is not nearly as important as knowing when to apply it. This is especially true for intelligence, which after all is just another tool. The very best tool in your toolkit is not your intelligence but your understanding of your tools. And the very best part of that understanding is knowing the ways in which those tools are limited. Unfortunately, by failing to learn the limitations of rationality, we have fallen prey to the Myth of Rationality.

The Myth of Rationality not only puts reason on a pedestal, it insists reason is our only, our best tool for dealing with problems of the world and of ourselves. Instead of seeing the mind as a cognitive toolkit — requiring not only selecting the correct tool for the task but also maintaining, improving, and updating of these tools — Rationality with a capital R believes, like Ozymandias, that it is lord of all it surveys.

Most of the failures of modern technological society can be traced to an unwarranted belief in rationality. Despite our technological advances, we have failed to learn the limitations of the tool of rationality. Like the dancing elephant, it's not amazing that we reason badly but that we reason at all. To suggest that man is a rational being is at best wishful thinking. Yet few ideas are more commonly held by the educated Westerner, whose entire curriculum derives from The Age of Reason.
        A new age is clearly upon us, one that has long since superseded the West's Age of Reason. Forty years ago, Peter Drucker attempted a new definition with his Age of Discontinuities. Now, Joshua Cooper Ramo declares this to be The Age of the Unthinkable. But how are we to discover the new tools of thought to deal with the unthinkable if most of us still believe in the Myth of Rationality? If we can't find these tools, could this be our Last Age?

Maybe it's about time we did. Assuming, that is, we in fact have the time. People always think they'll know when time is running out. This is why they put off seeing the doctor, who might tell them they need to act now because time is running out. Instead, they behave as if having a heart attack is an acceptable warning — even if it might kill you. If you're lucky enough to survive the warning, that doesn't guarantee you will have the time to fix the problem, e.g., turn things around with diet and exercise. Just because you're still walking around doesn't mean time hasn't run out.
        If we have the time. If we have the time, the first thing we in the West need to do is realize that our values, such as rationality, do not hold for the rest of the world. It's time we traded in our belief in Rationality, the Myth, for a more realistic view of the world — and ourselves. We are connected to every part of this world, instantaneously, where a knee-jerk here sets off a riot there, where the hatreds separated by thousands of years and miles have become the daily fears of our here and now, a world where the misplaced faith in rationality buys us nothing, gains us nothing, and solves none of our problems.