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Reprise: The Value of Reason

From Plato and Aristotle, through the Scholastics of the Middle Ages, on through Kant and the Age of Reason and the Enlightenment, incorporating the scientific revolution of Descartes and Newton, and right up till today, Reason and Rationality have been viewed as the primary traits that separate humankind from all other creatures—as voiced by Shakespeare above.

Through all these years, a major current in Western culture has been the belief that our life decisions should be based on reason and rationality. The argument for their use in considering the issues of our lives is powerful—even compelling. Further, many of the advances in modern medicine, science, economics, engineering, astronomy, and much more owe homage to the advance of reason and rationality. In our personal lives, reason helps us to see how whim might be leading us toward painful or even disastrous consequences. Rationality helps us to see when some of the beliefs of our culture might be having negative effects—on us, on others, and even on the culture itself.

There are many things about which we would be “foolish” if we did not make a rational decision, such as paying the lowest price for an item we are buying, selling our house for the highest price we are offered, weighing which company has the best reputation for service when we buy a product, or considering which school has the highest ranking in the area we wish to study before paying our fees. All these things can be calculated, to some degree, and reason excels in dealing with things that can be objectively calculated and compared.

Reason can also help guide us as we remember past experiences; for instance, remembering that hiking through a snowstorm without a good jacket can be dangerous, that getting drunk might interfere with our performance at an important meeting tomorrow, or that eating a whole box of chocolates made us sick once before. These are areas in which our rationality helps override the whimsy of the moment, reminding us that there might be serious consequences if we follow some of our whims.

Is Reason Logical?

However, it is crucial to realize that Reason and Rationality were not considered synonymous with logic by most people who advocated their importance through the centuries. Logic was one part of rationality, but only one part—and usually not the dominant part.

For instance, many people choose to try extreme things even though they might not be rational—sometimes just for the thrill of the experience, at other times to learn through extreme conditions. Perhaps they do it just to explore the limits of what is possible. Is it “rational” to climb Mount Everest, fly across the Atlantic by yourself in a single engine plane, go swimming in an icy lake in the dead of winter, or train for hours a day in a sport which pays very little. Is it even “rational” to go camping in winter, to run long distances, or to ski? For that matter, is it rational to engage in any difficult sport, travel to foreign countries, or spend money to go to a beach? Is it even rational to go to a movie or watch most the television shows?

The examples above begin to pry apart the distinctions presented in the last chapter concerning the many different ways reason and rationality have been understood. Some of those understandings would include a number of the above actions in the category of “rational,” while others would not. But one thing is clear: none of the items on the above list 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 no guide in deciding any of these matters. Reason and rationality might be, depending on how you define them, but logic is not.

Certainly we can use logic to weigh our choices in considering narrowly defined consequences of our actions, such as whether to run a red light if we are in a hurry (is there a police car around or not), whether working extra hours on a project might lead to a promotion (will the boss know about it, and will he or she care), or whether to make that extra trip to buy our spouse or friend a birthday gift (remembering that the last time I forgot a gift, he/she was hurt and I then felt bad).

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 even if we know we will not be caught—because we have a moral commitment to obey the law; or, we might work extra hard on a project because we have an internal commitment to excellence in everything that we do—even if the boss will never know; or, we might choose not to buy the gift because our spouse or friend forgot our birthday recently, and we want to “teach them a lesson.”

These kinds of non-logical currents impinge on almost every decision we make. Going back to the first examples given above, perhaps we decide to sell our house at a lower price to a favorite nephew. Or what if a good friend is trying to get started in marketing for a company—do we choose to buy from our friend in order to help her/him out, even though the product has neither the lowest price nor the best reputation? Logic just does not apply to these kinds of considerations—yet they are often decisive, and perhaps should be.

To press the point, how do we “logically” give weight to factors that depend upon a person’s preferences, that have to do with our internal subjective experience? For instance, in considering which product to buy, does reputation for service outweigh lower cost? How can this issue be “logical?” How can one assign measurable value that can be compared to things that are purely subjective—internal to each person? Consider the process of choosing a school for yourself or for your children. How do you logically compare the cost of a school, versus its reputation, versus its location? For one person, 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 issue. If the choice is for your child, what logical weight do you assign to the child’s preference versus your own.

If you went to college, the particular college you chose was one of the most important decisions of your life. There you met many of the people who have become significant in your life, many of your life skills were developed, and the direction of your career was at least partly channeled. Yet how did you make this decision? For most of us, it came down to a couple of colleges we had heard about, perhaps where friends or a relative had gone or were going, and vague images about who we thought we might like to be—as well as images of having a good or pleasurable “experience” in college. Even if you had a pretty clear idea as to what you wanted to study, how much did you research the thousands of colleges available to see which one fit you best? How much did you learn about the faculty you would be studying with? How much did you learn about the present-day situation at the college, versus its reputation—which often lags reality by several years? How much, at the time you had to make the decision, did you even know about what the important issues to consider really were?

The Limits of Logical Materialism

The above examples bring sharply into focus the ways in which logic does not suffice in dealing with the most important issues and questions of our lives. For those who would equate reason and rationality with logic, there are a number of dramatic barriers to relying exclusively on these tools.

If reason and rationality are considered to be logical, then:

1. In weighing complex issues, we can only consciously hold a few of the relevant facts in our minds at the moment of decision. Outside of our conscious considerations, there are many, many facts and currents that we simply do not know that might change our view of the situation completely. Others might know these facts, but we do not, and there is no way to even know which facts we should be looking for, or where to find them. Perhaps even more important, we simply do not know the real motives of others (whether we are being told the truth), the unconscious motivations of the other people involved, or even the unconscious motives in ourselves.

2. We can only hold a few of the known relevant facts about complex issues in our minds at any given moment—we can only hold a tiny fraction of all that we “know” about who we are, what we want, what other people are like, and what the world is like in our minds at any one instant. This is true because our logical, conscious minds are not wired to hold very much data at any one moment. Logical consciousness seems to operate sequentially. (If you are interested, simply watch yourself as you think about an issue for a few minutes, and watch how there are only one or two thoughts concerning a subject in your consciousness at any given moment.) Yet decisions happen in an instant. (Much to-and-froing and gnashing of teeth can happen before the moment of decision, and decisions made in an instant can be changed (and a change, if it occurs, also happens in an instant.)

But since we can only have a small portion of the relevant data in our conscious minds when a decision is made, through what process do we decide which facts to hold in our minds, and which NOT to focus on in that instant? However we do this, it is not a logical process. (Again, watching the mind for a moment, it is fascinating to see how one thought follows another. Interestingly, it is fairly impossible to predict which thought will arise next—a strong argument that it is not a logical process.

To emphasize: the thought or feeling or image that is central when a decision is made will dramatically affect the outcome—yet how this happens does NOT seem to be a logical process. In fact, there is no “rational” process by which we control our minds in this way. Nor do we have a way of forcing our decision-making apparatus to consider only those factors we “rationally” want it to consider. This process of how and when thoughts arise, and when a decision comes in that sequence, is actually quite a mystery. (For fun as well as insight, try the Thought Experiment at the end of this chapter.)

Some people do make a major effort to make “logical’ decisions—but it has been observed that those who move very far in this direction usually end up making bad decisions, for the only way to make complex issues susceptible to logic is to exclude a lot of the relevant data.

3. Trying to make logically rational decisions about complex issues does not give due consideration to our emotions, fears, hopes, dreams, and visions. Yet these are the things at the very heart of our life experience, the things that motivate us, inspire us, bring us joy or terror, and ultimately decide if we will be miserable or fulfilled. They are crucially important if we are going to make wise and successful decisions, yet there is no way to logically consider these things. There is no objective standard by which to measure them, and no way to objectively compare them one to another.

The fears, hopes, and dreams of one person are completely different from those of the next, and weighing them can only be done with a “feeling sense” by each individual. When someone admonishes, “Be Reasonable,” it is seldom a call to reason, but usually a plea, or a demand, that you follow their advice or their preference rather than your own.

Adding to the complication, our emotions, hopes, and dreams change as we move through life—and sometimes even moment to moment. At which moment then are they “rational,” and at which moment not? And how would you logically control the inner experience of the career that beckons, the vision that inspires, the love that calls, or the anxiety that blocks the way? Certainly a rational argument can be given for whether to pay attention to these things, and reason can point out the problems that might arise if one follows a particular path of action. Logic definitely has a place in the process—in pointing out consequences we have not considered, or providing a reminder that discipline is necessary in pursuing the images we have chosen.

But reason as logic cannot create the energy provided by our longings, our hopes, and our fears—nor subdue them completely either. After the logic, after the logically rational considerations have been made and their work done, our emotions, fears, hopes, dreams, and visions must be given their due place and value. If they are not, it will be at our own peril.

4. Finally, reason as logic has no way to determine how much significance to give to our values, our moral sense of things—the workings of our conscience—as we consider the issues of our lives. These are things that cannot be calculated or measured, and vary dramatically from person to person. There is no gauge, no standard, and no way to logically weigh these things in the scales of our decision-making. How much weight should be given to honesty versus providing food for our loved ones who are hungry? Is duty primarily toward our family, or to the tribe, or the nation, or to a moral belief we hold dear? What does logic say about whether justice should take precedence over compassion? What “should” we do if protecting our honor would bring us into grave danger, or would risk harm to those we love? How do we compare the importance of faith to that of temperance?

For instance, logic might say: I am sure I can embezzle $100,000 from my company and never get caught. I need the money. Therefore, I should embezzle it. But what weight in this calculation is given to the belief that embezzling is wrong? There is no way to calculate this objectively, and each person will weigh it differently—but this weighing will not be done by logic. It will be done, metaphorically speaking, by the heart. (The great novel Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky deals powerfully with this issue around to subject of a “rationally” justified murder.)

It is crucial here to emphasize once again that reason as understood by Plato and Kant and countless others would not be equated with logic, and thus the four issues discussed above would not be a problem in using reason as they understood it in many of these examples—for intuition and a deeper knowing were a part of reason. But it is most defintely a problem for anyone taking the position of the logical materialist—such as 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 what each and every such machine will do. And yet there are still many today who follow the trail laid down by Hobbes.

What Does This Have to do With Me?

But enough philosophy—how does all of this relate to my life? What starts to become clear from the above discussion is that most of our life decisions involve values that cannot be measured objectively, touch emotions that cannot be corralled by our logical minds, and force the comparison of things that logical thought is not equipped to compare. It would be like comparing apples to an orange dress.

Ultimately, it is fairly impossible to make most of the important decisions in life using logical reason as the major tool. For instance, how do you make a logical decision about who you will love, who your close friends will be, what your spiritual life will look like (or if you will have one), how hard you will work in your job (it depends on what other goals you have), and which sports, hobbies, books, movies, and music will give you pleasure and enjoyment?

Logical reason might have a role to play in decisions such as which career to follow, where to live, how hard to work, whether making money is more important than time with one’s family, whether to have children, and when and if to get a divorce. But logical reason and rationality can only play a limited role in each of these arenas, for our emotions, our visions for our lives, our longings—the things that will move and inspire us—are outside the reach of logic, whether we like it or not.

One 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 lead to much misery for both you and Jane. You might decide that being a lawyer is the most logical thing to do, but then find yourself unable to study for the exams, or worse, find yourself practicing law—and miserable. Logical reason has its place, but following its guidance alone in most important areas of life is more likely to lead to failure and frustration than to fulfillment. Crucial aspects of our lives have to do with spontaneous feelings that rise up unbidden, and are simply not subject to logical control.

Countless examples could be given. How would you make a “rational” decision as to whether to become an artist, quit your job to serve the poor, give up your free time to work for a cause you believe in, commit to a religious life, or undertake a spiritual practice? What is logic’s counsel in deciding how much money is enough, the best way to raise children, or whether to change careers toward something you are more excited about? Is logic the primary tool to employ in deciding whether to join a church, synagogue, mosque, sangha, or spiritual community—and if so, which one?

None of this is to say that logical considerations do not enter into our actions and decisions, for they do. But logical reason and rationality have only a limited role to play in the most important areas of our lives: love, creativity, our dreams and goals and visions for our lives, our relation to the spiritual dimension, the source of meaning and fulfillment, and what might bring us joy. And by incorporating these factors into the world of Reason, many of the great minds of human history proved themselves exceptionally wise.

Thought Experiment:

To catch a glimpse of just how hard it is to make a truly logical decision, watch yourself as you make the next fairly complicated decision you need to make. You can do it. It’s pretty easy.
First, become clear in your mind that a decision point is approaching, preferably one that has not already been made and will not be made immediately, then define what the decision is about as clearly as you can.
Now over the next few days, just observe when you are thinking about this issue. Do you decide to sit down and think about it logically, or does it just come into your mind every now and then without a conscious choice to think about it? When you think about it, do you choose what you will think, or do thoughts simply arise, without your knowing what is coming until the thought has arrived? Do you “rationally” control this process?
For me, 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 will make a conscious decision to sit down and think about the issue. I might use my reasoning mind to make a list of the important factors. But then, something besides reason in the small sense takes over. In thinking about each item on the list, images, feelings, and connections to other thoughts and feelings arise and fade in a way that my rational mind is definitely NOT in charge of. And how do I assign value to each factor? I cannot exactly say, but it is definitely a feeling sense sort of thing, as opposed to a logical process.
As I go along, sometimes one thought or feelings becomes central—I think about it a lot—but it is not necessarily the one my logical mind would have chosen as the most important. I might dwell on this one thing for a while, then it disappears, and something else becomes the “most important factor.” But I didn’t choose to dwell on either factor. It just happened.
Sometimes I get impatient and just “decide.” But that decision doesn’t hold. I reverse it, perhaps going back and forth a number of times.
Then at some point—who knows exactly when or why—a decision really has been made. What were the primary factors in my mind at that moment? Often I cannot tell. If someone asks, I might give that person a “rational” reason for my decision. But inside myself, the factors determining the decision do not fit neatly into the “reasoned” explanation to which I am giving voice.

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