Sunday, August 26, 2012

Intellectual Dishonesty, Or Why Heavy Objects are Dark


In this post, I'd like to address what is intellectual dishonesty and why motivates others to engage in it. (It's never us, right? Right?) What I won't do is list forms of intellectual dishonesty. While this can be fun, there are lots of websites that do this. Here are some links to a few of them: Obligatory Wiki link on Intellectual Honesty; another blog on honesty; same blogger on dishonesty; a nice list of forms of dishonesty; and, a list of fallacious arguments.

It perhaps goes without saying that intellectual dishonesty is the opposite of intellectual honesty. Perhaps it is worth noting why the term exists at all. That is, why do we use the term intellectual dishonesty rather than simply dishonesty. When people are dishonest, they are dishonest about why they are late to work or who broke the vase in the living room. Dishonesty is lying to protect one's interests whether we perceive those interests rightly or wrongly. Honesty is valuing truth above one's interests, or perhaps finding truth one's single best interest.

These basic definitions provide a starting point on the subject of intellectual dishonesty. Intellectual honesty is valuing truth even to the point of risking one's most cherished beliefs. It is being able to follow a discussion to its bitter end with regard only for truth. Intellectual dishonesty, then, is the avoidance of the truth. (The above links catalog the various ways in which this is done.) I think why we are dishonest in general gives us insight into why we are intellectually dishonest. We are, in fact, afraid of what we might find.

I think it worth noting here that there are different types of us who are intellectually dishonest. The first is the type I've already mentioned—those of us protecting our cherished beliefs, or rather protecting ourselves from the loss of those beliefs. The second sort is the professional liar. This is the sort that engages in debates for show. A behavior of this sort of person is to reuse arguments that, by all accounts, were completely demolished in a previous debate.

Most of us don't have these discussions every day. We don't face the risk of watching our foundational beliefs sink into an abyss. These are the discussions that occur at the lunch table or on-line. Is the concept of anthropogenic global warming a conspiracy? Is the republican party or the democratic party better for the United States? Is there a god?

I don't have much sympathy for the professionally dishonest. However, I have walked the line of intellectual dishonesty in an attempt to protect my beliefs. I don't know when it happened, but at some point I realized I cared about the truth and I cared enough to abandon cherished beliefs if necessary. Early on in my existence on message boards, I did dodge the truth. I didn't do it consciously. If someone defines faith as “believing things without evidence”, you switch to the definition of faith as trust. If you are pinned down about faith, you say it takes as more faith to be an atheist. Not only have you changed the definition of faith (known as equivocation), you put the non-believer on the defensive. Faith is certainly a bad thing and atheists have it! Hold on a second, didn't the conversation start on the assumption that faith is a virtue? In any case, my experience was that the bob-and-weave came naturally. It is what humans do. Changing our beliefs and our understanding of the world is an uncomfortable thing. We avoid it.

I think I got over most of it. Largely I think it came about by observing others on the same side of the argument get raked over the coals for patterns of argument that I had heard myself use. (It is interesting that I couldn't see this when I was the one arguing.) When I recognized this in others and could then correlate it with myself, I abandoned this pattern.

To some extent, what I want to encourage is recognition that intellectual dishonesty is something we as humans are prone to. We must be vigilant that we aren't engaging in the same patterns we deplore in others. Given that this occurs in us, we should be patient with other while being persistent in pointing out the errors.

So why are heavy things dark? Because they aren't light. (Equivocation.)

I've run across the attached graphic which provides good rules for discussion. (Possible source.)

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