Why the accusation ‘irrational’ is generally bogus
There is often a sort of dishonesty to the accusation
that someone or something is ‘irrational’. It presupposes that the person
making the accusation knows how the
other person or group of people should
act in order to be rational. It means taking the place of others and
claiming authority over what they should
be doing, on grounds of knowledge.
I’ve put ‘knows’ and ‘act’ in italics above because the
idea of rationality combines these two generally different notions. Knowing
something is a passive condition. It generally means knowing facts, so something that has already happened. Action is a
different condition. By definition it is active, affecting the world and projecting
into the future.
The idea of rationality connects the two, projecting knowledge
into the future, going beyond the sphere of facts and connecting to ideas of
causation: that when I do this something else follows. In football
if I kick the ball in the direction of the goal I am more likely to score a
goal than if I aim at the corner flag. This is rational, logical thinking. You
may base it on evidence of an experiment in which players variously aimed at
the goal and at the corner flag, so it has some basis in knowledge and fact, but it is still projecting into the
future. When the time comes around when I kick the ball, there may be other
factors intervening that your calculation didn’t take into consideration – like
my foot turning inwards or a very strong wind blowing.
In this way, your rational instruction to aim at the goal
isn’t completely secure. But it is still reasonable – and rational – for me to
aim at the goal if I want to score a goal. You would be well justified in
calling me ‘irrational’ for aiming at the corner flag.
The idea of rationality makes good sense in this
situation precisely because it is a limited situation, because there is a
specific goal in mind – to score a goal – and actors involved in action trying
to achieve that goal. It is an isolated, strictly bounded situation with
relatively few variables involved. The aim is clear and not contested.
Applied to politics, this idea of rationality starts to
fall apart. After all, in politics our aims are often contested. The situation is
not isolated and bounded like on a football field or in an experimental
laboratory. Rather it opens out to the whole world. For Britain in June 1940,
was the intention to achieve peace or to defeat the Nazis? Many chose the
former and followed a perfectly rational course in wanting to come to an
accommodation with Hitler. They had a clear goal in mind. But what about
others, like Churchill? Were they being ‘irrational’?
The accusation could certainly be made, but would be
unfair because Churchill was not aiming for peace at any cost. He had other
things in mind, like defeating tyranny, maintaining Britain’s standing and
independence in the world, and also personal glory. No doubt, some rationalists
at the time claimed that these goals were themselves irrational, but was peace
at any cost rational? Here we find the sphere of action, of causation and of
different considerations widen out so far that rationality loses its moorings. Once we start
trying to examine goals according to
rationality, we enter an infinite regression, like the child endlessly asking ‘But
why, Daddy’ until Daddy gives up and says, ‘Just because I say so’ or ‘Because
it’s the right thing to do.’
Rationalists in politics tend to avoid asking these
questions, of why they are trying to achieve what they are. It has already been
decided (which is different to that they have
decided) and they have work to do. They accuse others of being ‘irrational’
when these others have different intentions to theirs, as if other forms of
activity and justifications are illegitimate. They are a bit like a football
coach who breaks the bounds of the football field to demand rugby players stop
playing rugby because playing rugby is a poor way of putting the ball in the
back of the net.
Like this, rationality in politics relentlessly narrows
down the possibilities of politics by only admitting certain forms of
‘in-order-to’ justifications. It implies a strict limitation of the ends that
can legitimately be sought. Any alternatives appear as ‘irrational’ because
they are not directed to the correct ends and are therefore unlikely to be
effective at achieving them. But the rationalist is generally not self-aware enough to see this, so continues in all seriousness.
The dishonesty – and political power – in this approach relates
to how the accusation is expressed, for accusers do not generally draw boundaries and narrow down to a particular
situation of trying to achieve a set goal. The accusation that someone is being
‘irrational’ invariably stands alone, as absolute and universal, covering the
whole of politics and of life. It claims the authority of knowledge, of
causation, not bounded by the equivalent of the football field, but taking
everything into account.
It is bogus, but it feeds into a sort of religious
yearning we all have for certainty, for security – and for faith.
In this way, rationalism in politics is inherently
irrational, which is a philosophical weakness, but a political strength, for it
allows assertions to be made readily. It puts up a constant challenge to
opponents to respond, which they may not be in a position to do. Claims of
rationality often require intellectual challenge. This takes time, attention to
detail, the right language to engage politically and access to public life.
At present, our political life is pretty dreadful at
doing this challenging and facilitating it. For the most part, in the immediate
situations of politics, assertions of rationality and accusations of
irrationality pass by unchallenged, their authority unquestioned. I think we
need to do better, and we could do worse than start with these three basic questions:
- Whose rationality?
- What are they trying to achieve?
- What are they implicitly ruling out in the process?
Brexit is of course posed as the ultimate irrational act
by many people at the moment. But who are they? What are their motives? What
self-interest do they have in stopping it? On the level of their arguments, what
do they think politics should be trying to achieve, and why does national
self-government rule this out? What is it about national democracy that
they would like to exclude from political life, and why?
Once these things start to emerge, then we can start
having a more honest political debate.
There is a lot more to be said on this, but that
is more than enough for now. Some of these thoughts were jogged into being by listening
to the philosopher John Gray’s Desert Island Disks the other day. It’s well
worth forty-five minutes of your time, both for the reflections and the
music.
There's a very simple verbal formula to counter an accusation of irrationality. You just say:
ReplyDelete"I'm afraid that you don't get to define what's rational or irrational (insert name), because you are a person of very limited intellect."
I'm guessing you've already read this, but if not, this is easily the best explanation of what is happening to Liberalism:
ReplyDeletehttps://lareviewofbooks.org/article/the-blathering-superego-at-the-end-of-history/#!
The pervading sense of managerial Liberalism losing control and consequently lashing out helps to explain the current furore over Cambridge Analytica, as well as Hope Not Hate wanting to ban books, the conviction of Count Dankula etc.
You might also want to tease out the tensions between what is rational, what is practical and what is moral.
ReplyDeleteFor example, I'd repatriate most of our Muslim population but some would say that was impractical. The morality and rationality of it are up for grabs though.