The problem with this is that it makes belief a rational product. We believe because it seems to fit the larger story that has been put together piece by piece on the basis of coherence. All this seems to be an apple/orange problem. Something is rational if it does not offend what the mind assumes to be an acceptable pattern. If the car won’t start we will have to find some other way to go to the store. It makes sense. It is some how related to the real world as we experience it.
Belief systems by definition (and here is the orange) lie outside those narrow boundaries. Belief relates to that which offers no quick guarantee of authenticity. We don’t believe, what has always been obvious, we know it. But people do believe (most people, that is) that there is a superhuman being, some force, out there that somehow oversees what we call reality. There is nothing in our tangible world that supplies the necessary coherence that Dr. Kahneman calls for. I am not suggesting that belief is irrational, only that it should not be reduced to some artificial prerequisite that we manufacture. Many years ago a professor of theology, E. J. Carnell, defined faith as “the resting of the mind in the sufficiency of the evidence.” We arrive at a conclusion because the evidence leads us in that direction — although it never fully arrives. So coherence does have a place in belief but is not the sole arbiter of what we should or should not belief.
Can “force” reveal itself?
Albert Einstein wrote that if you “try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature . . . you will find that, behind all the discernible concatenations, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion. To that extent I am, in point of fact, religious.”
The apostle Paul wrote, “Since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities — his eternal power and divine nature — have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made” (Rom 1:20).
Both references are to what theology calls general revelation. While Einstein recognized only the “force” behind nature, Paul correctly identified it [him] as God. Biblical theology teaches that with the coming of Christ, general revelation has been supplemented by special revelation. Through creation God revealed his existence; through Christ he revealed his love. The incarnation is God invading his own creation and through Christ reconciling the world to himself (2 Corinthians 5:19). Nature reveals the “eternal power” and “divine nature” of God; the incarnation is a demonstration of his love. He revealed himself as redemptive love by sending his Son as the necessary sacrifice for sin. A correct translation of the Greek houtos in John 3:16 makes the verse read, “For this is how God loved the world: he gave his one and only Son . . . ” Now that is special!
Are there mountains too high to climb?
”The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.” Sounds like the proud boast of the young bravado about to storm the castle to rescue fair maiden. We admire the dauntless courage of the hero taking on the impossible task, unwilling to be cowered by overwhelming opposition. But the quotation is from Ayn Rand, the Russian/American novelist, play writer, philosopher, best known by most for her novel Atlas Shrugged. Like every pronouncement of this sort, its validity depends on context. Here is one that makes the quotation look really good.
I know a young man who after several years of substandard grades in college decided he wanted a degree after all. The registrar said, “Take another semester and get your grade average up to B,” not an easy thing to do, given three years of work significantly below that level. He studied diligently and earned almost all A’s, but it still didn’t bring the grade average up to the mark. At this point they wouldn’t “let him,” but could they “stop him?” That was the question. He said No, beat down the doors, pled his cause, got another chance and graduated, not summa cum laude but on the president’s list for his final year. Ayn, you are exactly right — they wouldn’t let him but they couldn’t stop him. And we admire that kind of vigorous approach to life.
But is the theorem universally applicable? Is it wise, in certain situations, not to challenge opposition? And of course the answer is, “Yes.” Common sense tells us that. In the real world there are “mountains too high to climb” and “oceans too wide to swim.” Speaking to the crowds, Jesus said, “What king marching to war against another king would not first sit down and consider whether with ten thousand men he could stand up to the other who was advancing against him with twenty thousand?” (Luke 14:31)
So everything depends upon context. The who-can-stop-me mentality is praiseworthy when the goal is worthy (even though it might require enormous personal effort), but foolish when the goal has no particular value. Sometimes the impossible is challenged for nothing more than the supposed approval others. And that’s sad. Personal worth is the result of doing what is worthy, not of conjuring up ways to make others think so. When opposition is faced, it is wise to consider not only the cost but also the importance of that which is pursued. Don Quixote’s quest to revive chivalry was romantic, but Sancho Panza, his squire had a better grip on reality.
Progress versus expansion
I know it’s not fair to pick on an idea that is down and out (theoretically, that is), but there is one organizational system that keeps expanding anyway — bureaucracy. Talk about resiliency: Einstein calls it “the death of all sound work,” Chris Salcedo defines it as “the art of making the possible impossible,” and it’s portrayed as a new game sweeping the country in which everyone stands in a circle and the first person to do anything loses. The term, but not the concept, goes back to the German sociologist Max Weber who held that the ideal bureaucracy was a hierarchical organization with clearly delineated lines of authority and a set of regulations that would answer every possible exigency.
Most scholars who work in the field acknowledge that bureaucracy may be technically superior to other forms of organizational theory but recognize that the human element makes it ineffective in the long run. Even Weber saw it as a threat to individual freedom and feared that it could lead to a “polar night of icy darkness.” Let’s look at how bureaucracy works in our own democratic system.
Every bureaucratic system seems to have the incredible ability to grow no matter what. In fact, growth appears to be its major purpose. As academic dean in a state university I found myself at budget time looking for ways to spend unallocated money so next year’s budget wouldn’t be reduced. There is nothing wrong with growth except that isn’t the purpose of an educational institution (at least that kind of growth.) Further, the larger and more complex a bureaucracy becomes, the less able it is to get something done. There are too many levels of oversight that must give their okay to even the simplest task. And that costs time and dollars better spent elsewhere.
Then there is a certain loss of individuality that accompanies bureaucracy. The very structure discourages creativity and innovation. It’s hard to move ahead with an idea if that idea must be okayed by a hierarchy of professional managers who may or may not have any interest in the contribution you wish to make. It’s nobody’s fault, just the way the system works. Bureaucracy creates its own jobs. Relatively insignificant agencies in the federal government have double or triple the number of employees than would be required by the private sector for the same task. While the current health care act is 960 pages in length, the necessary regulations (as compared to the bill) run 30 to 1, or some 11,588,500 words. That is a monumental task even for a bureaucracy!
In the final analysis bureaucracy is the organizational expression of a world-view that tends to place the welfare of the group over that of the individual. It runs