I have to confess, some of my best friends are dedicated materialists, and I have discussed the topics in the previous chapter with them many times. Their beliefs are not easily dissuaded (and as you might suspect, neither are mine). I have learned much in these exchanges.

Some of these friends lean toward the definition of reason given at the end of the last chapter, and with them I have found much common ground. A small number, however, have a special affinity for the idea that if we just had all the data, the functioning of our lives and of the world would become fully logical, everything falling into place as happens with mathematical formulas. Or they put their faith in computers, which, if big enough to hold all the data, could make a logical calculation of even the most complex situation. They follow the trail blazed by Thomas Hobbes, who held that we humans are like machines, and if we simply learn all of the material forces pushing and pulling on us, we will be able to predict exactly what each human machine will do. With this view, I have a great deal of difficulty. Let me explain.

The Distinction Between Reason and Logic

A primary point of the last chapter was that for Plato and Aristotle, the Scholastics of the Middle Ages, Kant and the leaders of the Enlightenment, Descartes, Isaac Newton and all the leading lights of the scientific revolution, and most philosophers and scientists right down till today, reason and rationality have been viewed as the most important traits separating humankind from all other creatures. Through these 2500 years of Western thought, the view that our decisions should be based on reason and rationality has been presented forcefully, often with compelling arguments.

Furthermore, many of the great advances in medicine, science, economics, engineering, astronomy – in a sense, modern life – owe homage to the advance of reason and rationality. In our personal lives, the development of reason has helped us escape some of the pitfalls of a totally whim-based life, and rationality has helped us see when our beliefs, or those of our culture, are having negative effects – on us, on others, and even on the culture within which we live.

However, the “reason” accorded this exalted place is not synonymous with logic. Logic is one part of rationality, but only a part, and seldom the most important part. For instance, many people defy logic to undertake extreme adventures for the thrill of the experience, to push themselves to their limits, or even to invite the possibility of a spiritual moment. They climb Mount Everest, fly across the Atlantic alone in a single engine plane, swim icy lakes in the dead of winter, or train for countless hours for a sport offering no chance of monetary gain. Are these choices “rational?” What about running twenty-six miles in a marathon in which one is sure to come in at the back of the pack, camping out in sub-zero weather, or risking life and limb on a dangerous ski slope? In fact, many would not consider it “rational” to engage in any dangerous sport. And what would be the logical justification for traveling to foreign countries (except on business or to visit relatives), spending hard-earned money to go to the beach to lay in the sun, or even to watch most movies or television shows?

Hopefully these examples begin to pry apart the many ways reason and rationality have been understood, and distinguish them from what is logical. Some, and perhaps all of the above choices might be “rational” in the broadest sense of what that word means. But few of the above items could be considered “logical’ things to do. We do these things not because they are logical, but for the experience, the joy, the thrill, the challenge. And logic is a poor guide in deciding whether we will undertake such activities. Reason and rationality might guide such decisions, depending on how they are defined, but logic – no.

We can use logic in weighing narrowly defined choices, such as whether to run a red light if we are in a hurry (is there a police car around or not), whether to work extra hours on a project (will the boss know about it, and will the boss care), and whether to make an extra trip to the store to buy our significant other a birthday gift (the last time we forgot, he/she was hurt and our relationship suffered).

However, these examples also bring quickly into focus the limits of logic in making even narrowly defined choices. For instance, we might choose to abide by the red light (unlike drivers in some parts of the world) even if we know we will not be caught, because we feel we have a moral commitment to obey the law. (I remember well a cab ride from the Cairo airport late one night, speeding through red light after red light at 70 miles and hour. Asking the driver about this, he shrugged and said, “Oh, there is not much traffic around.” What then, is the logical position here?) Or we might work extra hard on a project because we have an internal commitment to excellence, even if the boss will never know; or we might blow off buying the gift in a fit of pique because our “other” forgot our birthday recently, and we want to “teach them a lesson.” It is impossible to put these kinds of non-logical currents into quantifiable terms so that they can be used in a logical framework of consideration, but there is no mistaking that such feelings impinge on almost every decision we make.

There definitely is a role for logic, such as bringing past experiences to bear on an issue. For instance, we might remember that the last time we hiked through a snowstorm without gloves our fingers were frostbitten, that the last time we got drunk before an important meeting we blew our presentation, or that the last time we ate a whole box of chocolate we became quite sick. In these and similar cases, logic can help us override the whimsy of the moment, reminding us of negative consequences of similar decisions in the past.

There are many other ways in which logic can be a useful guide: it would be logical to pay the lowest possible price for an item we are buying, to sell our house for the highest price offered, to consider a company’s reputation for service before buying a product, and to find the best program in the area we wish to study before paying our fees. These things can, to some degree, be researched objectively, and logic excels in dealing with things that can be measured and then objectively compared.

However, even with these fairly straightforward examples, a logical path might not be the best path, nor the one we choose. For instance, we might decide to sell our house for a lower price to a favorite nephew, instead of taking the highest price we can get. Or perhaps a good friend is trying to get started in sales, and we choose to buy a higher-priced but lower-rated product from that friend. Logic just does not apply to these kinds of considerations, which can be decisive in our decision-making process.

To press the point, how do we “logically” give weight to factors that depend upon our personal preferences, which have to do with our internal subjective experience? For instance, in considering which product to buy, does reputation for service outweigh lower cost? Is it more important than friendship? How can these things be weighed against each other “logically?” How does one assign a measurable value to things that are subjective, internal to each person, so that they can be compared in some objective way?

Consider the process of choosing a school for a child to attend. How do we logically compare the cost of a school, versus its reputation, versus its location? For one family, low cost might be the most important factor; for another, location might be critical; for a third, going to the best possible school might be the dominant concern. Beyond these factors, what logical weight should be given to the child’s preferences, versus parental ones? What if two parents disagree, whose position has the greatest “logical” weight? Given all of these non-quantifiable factors, how on earth could such a decision ever be made “logical?”

Dealing with whether to go to college, and if so, where, is fertile ground for our discussion, for these decisions are among the most important we will make in our lives. If we go to college, our lives will be irrevocably shaped by the particular college we choose, for there we meet many of the people who will become significant to us for the rest of our lives. There important habits will be developed, crucial talents and skills will be encouraged or discouraged, career directions will be established, and often a mate will be chosen. Yet this decision is far from logical for most of us. There are thousands of colleges to choose from. Do we research them all? No, it usually comes down to a few colleges we have heard about, or that friends and relatives have attended – along with vague images about who we would like to be, or perhaps of just getting away from home and having a good time.

Even if we have a clear idea about what we want to study, how many of us take the time to research the thousands of programs available from all the colleges out there? How many of us research the specific faculty members with whom we will be studying? We might visit a few campuses, meet with a few students, even a professor or two (but seldom the professor teaching the primary courses we will be taking). Even if we diligently research the reputation of a college, how do we know this accords with the present-day situation, for college reputations lag reality by several years.

Even more, since most of us as high school juniors and seniors have little idea about the important questions to ask (having nothing to compare it to, and knowing little about who we will become once we leave home), how can we possibly make a logical decision in this matter? If the decision is to skip college, the effects are equally dramatic, and in most cases far from logical. How can a 17 or 18 year old make a logical decision about going or not going to college with the fierce emotional, hormonal, financial, ambitional, and familial expectation currents raging inside. Perhaps the advice of parents can help, and such advice might be somewhat more logical, but are parents’ motives strictly logical, or are they in most cases laced with fantasies for the child, and with financial and emotional concerns of their own? Even assuming the impossible, that one parent is completely logical in his/her advice, how much should that parent’s opinion be weighted against the view of the other parent who loves the child dearly, and from that love recommends a different path?

These issues are the shoals upon which many of the most sophisticated materialists founder. Some, although accepting that the human mind does not have enough information, or cannot hold enough data to calculate a completely logical decision on complex matters, postulate God-like computers containing all the data necessary for a potential logical universe. But a computer follows a human-designed program. Who would assign the numerical values to love, fear, hopes and dreams. The computer has no means by which to do so without human programming. Who would write this program? (If the answer comes that we will eventually design a computer that will be able to program itself in this way, I always smile inside, for we are no longer talking about logic, but a new and curious act of faith (I call it the giant computer in the sky theology).

Decision-making and Logic

The preceding examples bring sharply into focus the ways in which logic does not suffice in dealing with the most important issues and questions of life. For my friends who would equate reason with logic, and who hold out for a future day in which all the facts will be known, and all will be revealed as logical, I present my “reasoning” as to why this will never come to pass:

1. So many facts, so little time: In weighing complex issues, there will always be many facts that we do not know at the moment of decision, facts that would change our view of the situation and perhaps the decision itself. If we had unlimited time to research just one issue, then on some issues we might be able to gather all the information and make a logical decision. But life is not like this. We have to make many decisions every day, with many important decisions occurring on the spur of the moment. Life happens fast, and a decision to wait can be as crucial and life changing as a decision to act. In this flux of life, there is seldom the luxury to stop everything else while the facts about one issue are gathered and sorted. A few examples:

Think of a moment when a problem with your car caused an accident, or a costly delay. If you had spent the prior weeks making your car the sole focus of your attention, had inspected it every day, taken it to the shop daily, then perhaps the accident or delay would not have occurred. But in following this course, you would have missed much of the rest of your life. The facts about the car were available, but only if you focused your time and attention on this one area of your life, to the exclusion of many other important things else.

Or think of a time playing sports in which a split second decision determined who won or lost the game, or led to an injury. Not always, but occasionally, victory, defeat, or an injury affect the remainder of one’s life (confidence is enhanced or destroyed, a scholarship is offered or withdrawn, a coach is fired, or an injury is life-changing).

Or think of a time you were in an unplanned physically intimate situation. Did you pull back, or go forward to physical completion? Was it a logical decision? Many lives have been profoundly impacted by decisions in such moments, with very little time to gather and analyze the “facts” (whatever the “facts” might be in this kind of moment). In this, as in so many life situations, we must live into life, one way or the other, without time to logically consider all the facts.

2. Hidden motives: We simply do not know the real motives of other people. We do not know for sure if they are telling the truth (they might be lying to us, or unconscious of their own motives and lying to themselves). We might even have unconscious motives of our own. Think, for example, of a time someone persuaded you, by kind words or flattering language, to do something you did not want to do. At that moment, you wanted to believe what they were saying, so you acted in accordance with their words – only to discover much later that the flattery was not sincere. Yet many of our decisions have to be made with the information we have at the moment, however flawed. How will logic account for the unrevealed lie, the unconscious motive?

3. The nature of consciousness: Even with the information we do know, we can only hold in consciousness a few of the relevant facts at any given moment in time – we can only hold a tiny fraction of all that we “know” (sense data, motives and intentions, what other people have said and done) in our minds at any one instant. Our minds, which store enormous amounts of information, do not seem to be wired to consciously hold much of this information simultaneously. Consciousness operates sequentially. (To discover how dramatically this is the case, watch your thinking process for a few minutes as you consider an issue, and notice that there can only be a very limited number of facts or thoughts concerning a subject in your mind at any one instant.) Yet decisions happen in an instant.¹ However, if only a small portion of the relevant data is conscious when a decision is made, how is a logical decision possible?

4. The moment of decision: The thought or feeling or image that is present at the critical moment of decision will dramatically affect the outcome, yet how this particular content happened to be there at that moment is not a logical process. How does it happen to be there? For me, if I watch my own mind as it wrestles with a decision, I see that one thought follows another, which follows another, in rapid succession – and it is impossible to predict which thought will arise next. If I try to force my mind into a logical sequence, it rebels, throwing up content that is quite different from what I am trying to choose logically (it might inject fears, fantasies about outcomes, anxieties, or images about entirely other subjects). There does not seem to be a “logical” process by which I control my mind in this way. Nor do I seem to have the ability to force my decision-making apparatus to consider only those factors I “logically” want to consider.

How then is a decision made? Somewhere in this cascade of thoughts and feelings and images – sometimes when I am not even consciously thinking about the issue – a decision takes up residence in me. Sometimes it is tentative, a startled and skittish head peeking cartoon-like over a curtain; other times, it arrives with conviction and certainly. Usually, however, I do not know when the decision is going to be made in this cascading sequence of thoughts and feelings, until it is there.

There are people who make an effort to force themselves into “logical’ decisions – but it has been observed that such folks usually make a lot of faulty decisions. The reason seems to be that the only way to make complex issues susceptible to logic is to exclude much of the relevant data. For instance, buying a new car can be a very complex process. Those who want to make it simple and logical can do so by severely limiting their choices. They might say, “I will only buy a certain brand, from a certain dealer, and at a certain cost.” At that point, the options might be narrow enough so that a decision can be “logical.” But all those “narrowing” decisions will never be logical. (And buying a car is easy, compared to deciding who to marry, a career path, where to live, whether to divorce, and so on. If one wanted to make these decisions in a logical way, the “narrowing” process would be really interesting, and certainly not logical.)

Returning to the example of buying a car (much simpler and safer than choosing a mate or a career), a fascinating article published in Science Magazine (February 17, 2006) takes us deep into the mystery of decision-making. The study concerned buying a house or a car, and the researchers concluded that after doing one’s homework, it was best to stop thinking about the choice for a while and let the unconscious sort through the options. By relying on the unconscious in this way, one was more likely to make a satisfying choice than through conscious deliberation alone. It seems our conscious process can easily give too much weight to the immediate information in the mind when a decision is being made, compared with other important things that are not in consciousness at that moment. However, the unconscious seems to have the capacity to consider much more of the relevant information, thus leading to better choices.² (Not an encouraging report for those who wish to bring their lives under the control of logic.)

5. Life visions and emotions: As suggested by several of the points above, trying to make logical decisions about complex issues does not give sufficient weight to our emotions, fears, hopes, dreams, and visions. These are at the very heart of our life experience, motivating us, inspiring us, bringing us joy or terror, and ultimately determining if we will be miserable or fulfilled. These things are crucially important if we are going to make wise and successful decisions. How exactly, then, do we consider them logically? By what objective standard do we assign weighted values so as to compare them one to another? It is like trying to compare apples to an orange dress.

6. Rapidly changing feelings: Moreover, our emotions, hopes, and dreams change as we move through life, sometimes radically and quickly. To be logical, we would have to pin them down, fix them in place at some specific moment in time. But how do we pin down and fix the shifting currents of the career that beckons, the vision that inspires, the love that calls, or the anxiety that blocks the way? Crucial aspects of our lives have to do with spontaneous feelings that rise up unbidden at key moments, outside of any logical process. Weighing these factors can only be done with a “feeling sense” that somehow, beyond logic, brings them into some relation to each other in an intuitive way (see the next chapter).

7. Differences between us: If fears, hopes, and dreams shift within us over time, they differ even more dramatically from one person to another. This in itself makes impossible a shared logical standard for decision-making. How would another’s logic take into account my emotions, my hopes, my dreams? Riding this logical train to its station would suggest the need for a separate system of logic for each person. Not very logical, and of no value whatsoever in shared human experience.

So it has come to this for me: when someone admonishes me to “Be Logical” or “Be Rational,”³ I seldom see it as a true call to logic or reason, but more as a demand that I follow that person’s preferences rather than my own – for those who use these injunctions have come to the interesting belief that only their personal preferences constitute what is logical or rational.

8. Considering values: Finally, logic has no way to assign relative significance to our values. Values, and our moral sense of things, cannot be calculated or measured objectively. They vary dramatically from person to person, and there is no gauge, no standard by which they can be logically weighed in the scales of our decision-making. How much weight would be given to honesty, versus the need to provide food for loved ones who are starving? If duty is a value, which duty – toward family, the tribe, the nation, or to a moral belief one holds dear? How would logic decide whether justice should take precedence over compassion? How much value should be assigned to protecting one’s honor, if it involves a risk of harm to loved ones?

As an example, logic might say: I desperately need money, and I am sure I can embezzle $100,000 from my company and never get caught; ergo, I should embezzle it. But where in this calculation is there a space for the belief that embezzling is wrong? There is no way to calculate this objectively, and each person will weigh it differently – and the weighting cannot be done by logic. It can only be done, as Pascal implies in the quote beginning this chapter, by the heart. Dostoyevsky’s great novel Crime and Punishment deals with this issue with an even darker example: the protagonist decides it is OK to commit cold-blooded murder since he needs money, will use it for good purposes, and the victim is (in his view) a despised and worthless being. (Reading Dostoyevsky’s rendering of the consequences of this decision should give advocates of logical decision-making pause.)

It is crucial here to emphasize again that reason as understood by Plato and Kant, and almost all the thinkers discussed in the last chapter, would not fall victim to the above arguments, for they did not equate reason with logic. For them, reason made room for love, creativity, intuition, dreams, goals, visions, the spiritual dimension of life, and the role of meaning in guiding our actions. The above points are only a problem for those holding the position of the Logical Materialist.

Decision-making in Real Life

For me, it seems inescapable that most decisions involve values that cannot be quantified objectively, touch emotions that cannot be corralled by the logical mind, and require comparisons between things that logic is not equipped to compare. How do I make a logical decision about who to love, who my close friends will be, how hard I will work, or the sports, hobbies, books, movies, and music upon which I will “spend” the time of my life?

Don’t get me wrong: logic definitely has a role to play in my decisions, pointing out problems that could arise or consequences I have not considered. I get out my yellow pad and make lists of the logical factors concerning each major decision of my life. An important example for me: logic often reminds me that discipline and effort are necessary in pursuing the goals I have chosen. But logic cannot create the energy provided by my longings, my hopes, and my fears – nor subdue these forces either. After the logic, after the logical considerations have done their work, emotions, hopes, fears, dreams, and visions must be given their due. If they are not, it is almost always to my regret.

A couple of examples: You might say, “I will choose to love Jane because she is the best fit for my life.” And you might marry Jane. But you cannot force yourself to love her, and such a decision could well lead to much misery for both you and for Jane. Or you might decide that being a lawyer is the most logical thing to do, then find yourself unable to study for exams, or worse, practicing law – and miserable. Logic has its place, but trying to follow its sole guidance in the important areas of life is more likely to lead to failure and frustration than to fulfillment.

Countless other examples could be given. How would you make a “logical” decision about becoming an artist, undertaking a spiritual practice, giving up your free time to work for a cause you believe in, or leaving a job in order to serve the poor? What is logic’s counsel in deciding how much money is enough, the values with which to raise children, or whether to take up a career you are excited about but pays very little? Is logic the primary tool to employ in deciding which social group, church, or religious community to join? Logic can play a limited role in each of the above, but our emotions, our visions, our longings – the things that move and inspire us – also have a crucial role to play, and these are outside the reach of logic, whether we like it or not.

Observing this process in myself: In considering important issues, thoughts and images and feelings pop into my mind, swirl around each other, and then vanish as quickly as they came – to be replaced by other thoughts and feelings and images. Issues and factors come and go, usually with no conscious bidding, and in no particular order. They are there, and then they give way to other thoughts and feelings without my knowing when this is going to happen – or why.

Sometimes I make a conscious decision to sit down and think about an issue. I might use my organizing mind to make a list of the important factors. But then, something besides logic takes over. As I begin to think about each item on the list, images, feelings, and connections to other thoughts and feelings arise and fade in ways that my logical mind is definitely NOT in charge of. If I try to assign objective “points” to each factor, my mind quickly subverts this process and proceeds in its own way. I cannot precisely define what this process is, but it is definitely a “feeling sense” sort of thing, as opposed to logic. (If a logical believer avers that I should make my process more logical, my amused responses are, “What is the logical proof that being logical is better?” or “This is the decision-making process we humans have. How did you arrive at this abstract notion of something better, and how are you going to go about creating a new species to fit your notion of what they should be like?”

Going back to my process, sometimes one thought or feeling becomes central for a while, but it is not necessarily the one my logical mind has chosen as the most important. I might dwell on this factor for a while, but then it disappears, and something else becomes the “most important factor.” But I often didn’t choose to dwell on either one. Each just “happened” to become the focus for a while. If I try to force myself to focus on what logic says is important, it lasts a few seconds, and then my decision-making process resumes its normal functioning beyond the logic I am trying to impose.
Much toing-and-froing and gnashing of teeth can happen before the moment of decision, so sometimes I get impatient and decide I will just “decide.” But usually that decision doesn’t hold. I reverse it, perhaps going back and forth a number of times.

Then at some point – who knows exactly why or how – a decision has been made. What were the primary factors in my mind at that moment? Often I cannot tell. If someone asks, I might give a “logical” reason for my decision. But inside myself, how the decision happened seldom aligns with the logical explanation to which I am giving voice. The logical explanation is just a bow to the belief system of the person I am talking to – that decisions should be “logical”.

New York Times columnist David Brooks captures the complexity of this process in an article discussing a 70-year-long study of the lives of a group of Harvard students, which by chance included President John F. Kennedy. This class has now been studied in depth during their entire adulthood, many until their deaths, and the results make clear that there is no logical way to predict how lives will turn out.

I rest my case.

1 Decisions made in an instant can be reconsidered or changed, but the change, if it occurs, will also happen in an instant.)

2 More on this study in the next chapter.

3 When someone uses “Be Rational” in this way, it seems to me they are almost always using rational as either logical, or something that can be proved with facts or logic.

4 They Had It Made, David Brooks, New York Times, May 11, 2009, discussing the Grant Study