Practice Questions & Answers :: eLitmus

 Our propensity to look out for regularities, and to impose laws upon nature, leads to the psychological phenomenon of dogmatic thinking or, more generally, dogmatic behavior: we expect regularities everywhere and attempt to find them even where there are none; events which do not yield to these attempts we are inclined to treat as a kind of 'background noise'; and we stick to our expectations even when they are inadequate and we ought to accept defeat. This dogmatism is to some extent necessary. It is demanded by a situation which can only be dealt with by forcing our conjectures upon the world. Moreover, this dogmatism allows us to approach a good theory in stages, by way of approximations: if we accept defeat too easily, we may prevent ourselves from finding that we were very nearly right. It is clear that this dogmatic attitude, which makes us stick to our first impressions, is indicative of a strong belief; while a critical attitude, which is ready to modify its tenets, which admits doubt and demands tests, is indicative of a weaker belief. Now according to Hume's theory, and to the popular theory, the strength of a belief should be a product of repetition; thus it should always grow with experience, and always be greater in less primitive persons. But dogmatic thinking, an uncontrolled wish to impose regularities, a manifest pleasure in rites and in repetition as such, is characteristic of primitives and children; and increasing experience and maturity sometimes create an attitude of caution and criticism rather than of dogmatism.
My logical criticism of Hume's psychological theory, and the considerations connected with it, may seem a little removed from the field of the philosophy of science. But the distinction between dogmatic and critical thinking, or the dogmatic and the critical attitude, brings us right back to our central problem. For the dogmatic attitude is clearly related to the tendency to verify our laws and schemata by seeking to apply them and to confirm them, even to the point of neglecting refutations, whereas the critical attitude is one of readiness to change them - to test them; to refute them; to falsify them, if possible. This suggests that we may identify the critical attitude with the scientific attitude, and the dogmatic attitude with the one which we have described as pseudo-scientific. It further suggests that genetically speaking the pseudo-scientific attitude is more primitive than, and prior to, the scientific attitude: that it is a pre-scientific attitude. And this primitivity or priority also has its logical aspect. For the critical attitude is not so much opposed to the dogmatic attitude as super-imposed upon it: criticism must be directed against existing and influential beliefs in need of critical revision oe in other words, dogmatic beliefs. A critical attitude needs for its raw material, as it were, theories or beliefs which are held more or less dogmatically. Thus, science must begin with myths, and with the criticism of myths; neither with the collection of observations, nor with the invention of experiments, but with the critical discussion of myths, and of magical techniques and practices. The scientific tradition is distinguished from the pre-scientific tradition in having two layers. Like the latter, it passes on its theories; but it also passes on a critical attitude towards them. The theories are passed on, not as dogmas, but rather with the challenge to discuss them and improve upon them. The critical attitude, the tradition of free discussion of theories with the aim of discovering their weak spots so that they may be improved upon, is the attitude of reasonableness, of rationality. From the point of view here developed, all laws, all theories, remain essentially tentative, or conjectural, or hypothetical, even when we feel unable to doubt them any longer. Before a theory has been refuted we can never know in what way it may have to be modified.

 Our propensity to look out for regularities, and to impose laws upon nature, leads to the psychological phenomenon of dogmatic thinking or, more generally, dogmatic behavior: we expect regularities everywhere and attempt to find them even where there are none; events which do not yield to these attempts we are inclined to treat as a kind of 'background noise'; and we stick to our expectations even when they are inadequate and we ought to accept defeat. This dogmatism is to some extent necessary. It is demanded by a situation which can only be dealt with by forcing our conjectures upon the world. Moreover, this dogmatism allows us to approach a good theory in stages, by way of approximations: if we accept defeat too easily, we may prevent ourselves from finding that we were very nearly right. It is clear that this dogmatic attitude, which makes us stick to our first impressions, is indicative of a strong belief; while a critical attitude, which is ready to modify its tenets, which admits doubt and demands tests, is indicative of a weaker belief. Now according to Hume's theory, and to the popular theory, the strength of a belief should be a product of repetition; thus it should always grow with experience, and always be greater in less primitive persons. But dogmatic thinking, an uncontrolled wish to impose regularities, a manifest pleasure in rites and in repetition as such, is characteristic of primitives and children; and increasing experience and maturity sometimes create an attitude of caution and criticism rather than of dogmatism.
My logical criticism of Hume's psychological theory, and the considerations connected with it, may seem a little removed from the field of the philosophy of science. But the distinction between dogmatic and critical thinking, or the dogmatic and the critical attitude, brings us right back to our central problem. For the dogmatic attitude is clearly related to the tendency to verify our laws and schemata by seeking to apply them and to confirm them, even to the point of neglecting refutations, whereas the critical attitude is one of readiness to change them - to test them; to refute them; to falsify them, if possible. This suggests that we may identify the critical attitude with the scientific attitude, and the dogmatic attitude with the one which we have described as pseudo-scientific. It further suggests that genetically speaking the pseudo-scientific attitude is more primitive than, and prior to, the scientific attitude: that it is a pre-scientific attitude. And this primitivity or priority also has its logical aspect. For the critical attitude is not so much opposed to the dogmatic attitude as super-imposed upon it: criticism must be directed against existing and influential beliefs in need of critical revision oe in other words, dogmatic beliefs. A critical attitude needs for its raw material, as it were, theories or beliefs which are held more or less dogmatically. Thus, science must begin with myths, and with the criticism of myths; neither with the collection of observations, nor with the invention of experiments, but with the critical discussion of myths, and of magical techniques and practices. The scientific tradition is distinguished from the pre-scientific tradition in having two layers. Like the latter, it passes on its theories; but it also passes on a critical attitude towards them. The theories are passed on, not as dogmas, but rather with the challenge to discuss them and improve upon them. The critical attitude, the tradition of free discussion of theories with the aim of discovering their weak spots so that they may be improved upon, is the attitude of reasonableness, of rationality. From the point of view here developed, all laws, all theories, remain essentially tentative, or conjectural, or hypothetical, even when we feel unable to doubt them any longer. Before a theory has been refuted we can never know in what way it may have to be modified.

 "Leave it." Anjali could not begin to fathom what she was hearing. Even the contractor appeared flabbergasted. His mouth stayed in a half-open position, like a guitar waiting for its strings to be tugged. "Yes. Leave it.", Varun said again. He was speaking to the notion that someone in the room had asked him to clarify his words. What were the chances that an Indian burial ground would be found on the bucolic site where Varun and Anjali had chosen to build their dream home? Why in the world would Varun not want to have the remains carted away, thought Anjali. The last thing they needed were Indian poltergeists meandering around their home while the two of them were trying to renovate their marriage. Anjali, usually deferential to her husband, knew that now was the time to make her position heard. She tried to cajole Varun from the direction he was heading. "Sweetheart, we don't want to build on a site with human remains. It would be irreverent to the dead." Immediately, she saw contempt in Varun's eyes; it was a subtle reminder of how he often viewed her as superficial and self-absorbed. "What would be irreverent", said Varun, his voice dripping with condescension, "would be to desecrate these native graves and move them from their final resting place. Remember the culture." No, Anjali did not "remember the culture". She could care less about the culture. However, Varun, the history professor, was obviously enthralled by the contractor's findings. He had an innate way of understanding other cultures and other people that amazed Anjali. He did not have that gift with her. But something inside Anjali said this was too much. She believed wholeheartedly in ghosts and could not imagine a life of them haunting her, rattling her cupboards, and shaking her floorboards. Anjali had an unnerving sensation that big problems were ahead.

 "Leave it." Anjali could not begin to fathom what she was hearing. Even the contractor appeared flabbergasted. His mouth stayed in a half-open position, like a guitar waiting for its strings to be tugged. "Yes. Leave it.", Varun said again. He was speaking to the notion that someone in the room had asked him to clarify his words. What were the chances that an Indian burial ground would be found on the bucolic site where Varun and Anjali had chosen to build their dream home? Why in the world would Varun not want to have the remains carted away, thought Anjali. The last thing they needed were Indian poltergeists meandering around their home while the two of them were trying to renovate their marriage. Anjali, usually deferential to her husband, knew that now was the time to make her position heard. She tried to cajole Varun from the direction he was heading. "Sweetheart, we don't want to build on a site with human remains. It would be irreverent to the dead." Immediately, she saw contempt in Varun's eyes; it was a subtle reminder of how he often viewed her as superficial and self-absorbed. "What would be irreverent", said Varun, his voice dripping with condescension, "would be to desecrate these native graves and move them from their final resting place. Remember the culture." No, Anjali did not "remember the culture". She could care less about the culture. However, Varun, the history professor, was obviously enthralled by the contractor's findings. He had an innate way of understanding other cultures and other people that amazed Anjali. He did not have that gift with her. But something inside Anjali said this was too much. She believed wholeheartedly in ghosts and could not imagine a life of them haunting her, rattling her cupboards, and shaking her floorboards. Anjali had an unnerving sensation that big problems were ahead.

 "Leave it." Anjali could not begin to fathom what she was hearing. Even the contractor appeared flabbergasted. His mouth stayed in a half-open position, like a guitar waiting for its strings to be tugged. "Yes. Leave it.", Varun said again. He was speaking to the notion that someone in the room had asked him to clarify his words. What were the chances that an Indian burial ground would be found on the bucolic site where Varun and Anjali had chosen to build their dream home? Why in the world would Varun not want to have the remains carted away, thought Anjali. The last thing they needed were Indian poltergeists meandering around their home while the two of them were trying to renovate their marriage. Anjali, usually deferential to her husband, knew that now was the time to make her position heard. She tried to cajole Varun from the direction he was heading. "Sweetheart, we don't want to build on a site with human remains. It would be irreverent to the dead." Immediately, she saw contempt in Varun's eyes; it was a subtle reminder of how he often viewed her as superficial and self-absorbed. "What would be irreverent", said Varun, his voice dripping with condescension, "would be to desecrate these native graves and move them from their final resting place. Remember the culture." No, Anjali did not "remember the culture". She could care less about the culture. However, Varun, the history professor, was obviously enthralled by the contractor's findings. He had an innate way of understanding other cultures and other people that amazed Anjali. He did not have that gift with her. But something inside Anjali said this was too much. She believed wholeheartedly in ghosts and could not imagine a life of them haunting her, rattling her cupboards, and shaking her floorboards. Anjali had an unnerving sensation that big problems were ahead.