Tag: Plato

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Mathematics and Morality

Want to do the right thing? Do the math

   Andrew Fiala

Originally published 2012-08-25

As kids tune up their calculators and complain about their math homework, let’s consider the moral value of mathematics. It is widely known that American students struggle with math and are being outperformed by kids in other countries. In response, President Obama plans to contribute $1 billion to support expert math and science teachers.

Is this a wise investment? Why do we put children through the math wringer: hammering them with algebra, geometry, trigonometry and calculus? At least one pundit has claimed that all of this is cruel and unnecessary.

In a recent essay in The New York Times, Andrew Hacker — a professor at the City University of New York — questioned the need for advanced mathematics. Hacker claimed, “Algebra is an onerous stumbling block for all kinds of students.” He argued that the solution was to change our emphasis on higher mathematics, focusing less on algebra and more on applied quantitative skills.

While I smiled at Hacker’s claim that “poets and philosophers” do not really need to do calculus, I suspect that higher mathematics remains useful. This is not because we use algebra or trigonometry in daily life, but because training in mathematics, like training in music or a foreign language, helps us hone our mental skills. Most adults don’t play the French horn they practiced in middle school, or speak the French they learned in high school. But we are better for having studied these things. Mathematics, like music, is a new language. To learn it, you have to apply abstract rules, think creatively, problem solve, and practice and persevere.

Morality seems to require the same ability to apply abstract rules that we associate with mathematics. Morality involves problem solving, as we come to see how the rules ought to be applied in a variety of complex cases. Of course, ethics involves more than following rules. Moral acuity also involves an emotional and empathetic element. It is a bit more like music in this regard. But as in music, creative and emotional responses must be grounded in a basic understanding of the principles and rules of the art.

The ancient Greeks thought that there was a connection between mathematics (and music) and morality. Plato’s school — the Academy in Athens — was said to have a sign on the door that read, “Let no one ignorant of geometry enter.” The path to enlightenment, for Plato, was prepared by mathematical insight. Mathematics provides rigorous discipline for the mind, which leads to higher wisdom.

There is a parallel between the orderly procedures of mathematical reasoning and the orderliness of a virtuous life. The Greeks thought that a good life was properly proportioned, with each part in its place. Aristotle taught that virtue was a “golden mean,” the middle or average amount: not too much, not too little. He defined justice as giving “equal to equals.” In order to distribute things fairly, you need to understand math.

There is also an analogy between mathematical and moral knowledge. Everyone agrees that 2+2=4. You don’t have to test this claim against the world. Rather, it is true for everyone, at all times, known with certainty. Plato thought moral knowledge was like that: universal and innate.

Unfortunately, people often disagree about morality. Some people don’t eat meat; others do. Some get abortions; others don’t. And so on. Moral principles appear to be quite different from mathematical truths, insofar as people vigorously debate them, even killing one another over them. This leads some people to skepticism about morality. It might be that there are no universally valid moral principles.

But someone like Plato might respond by saying that just as we can make mistakes in “doing the math,” we can also make mistakes in “doing morality.” Disagreement does not prove there is no right answer. If a child adds 2 and 2 and ends up with 5, we don’t give up on mathematics. Instead, we teach him or her how to do it right. And when children have good teachers and do their homework, their math skills improve.

Morality may be similar. We need good teachers who correct our mistakes and teach us how to do better. And, of course, we all need to keep practicing our instruments and doing our homework.

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Education and Democracy

Holiday marks promise of education, democracy

   Andrew Fiala

Originally published Fresno Bee, 2012-06-30

We may be created equal and endowed with basic rights, but we are not born knowing this. Education is required to help us understand our rights and the legal structure that protects them. Thomas Jefferson once warned, “if a nation expects to be both ignorant and free … it expects what never was and never will be.” As we head toward Independence Day it is important to recall the essential connection between education and democracy.

American schools and universities have the opportunity to change the world. Consider this remarkable fact: The newly elected President of Egypt, Mohammed Morsi, and the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, were both educated in the United States. Morsi received his Ph.D. from USC. He taught at Cal State Northridge. Two of his children were born in California, which means that they are U.S. citizens. Netanyahu graduated from high school in Philadelphia and later earned degrees from MIT.

This reminds us of the global reach of the American educational system. Not only are we educating our own citizens but also people from across the planet. This is an amazing opportunity to disseminate democratic values.

Since Plato, democracy has been criticized as unstable rule of the ignorant mob. If the masses are uneducated and immoral, democracy can produce negative outcomes. And if the rulers are not properly educated, they become despotic demagogues who pander to the mob. Plato’s solution was anti-democratic. He wanted to educate the best individuals — those of good breeding. This ruling elite would then keep the masses under control through the use of propaganda and force.

The American Founders proposed a different solution: more and better education. Faith in the power of education is a deeply American ideal.

Benjamin Franklin argued that there was nothing more important to the common good than “to train up youth in wisdom and virtue.” He continued: “wise and good men are, in my opinion, the strength of the state.” Franklin even imagined, contrary to the prevailing opinion of his day, that education could be of value for women and blacks. Franklin worked to establish the Philadelphia Academy, a school that played a central role in the intellectual lives of many of the Founding Fathers.

Jefferson wanted the state of Virginia to fund public education for all citizens. The Virginia legislature balked at the expense. But Jefferson persuaded the state to fund the University of Virginia. Jefferson argued that “primary education” should “instruct the mass of our citizens in their rights, interests and duties, as men and citizens.” Higher education was to go further in educating future statesmen, scientists, and business leaders. The university was to “develop the reasoning faculties of our youth, enlarge their minds, cultivate their morals, and instill into them the precepts of virtue and order … rendering them examples of virtue to others, and of happiness within themselves.”

George Washington was also an ardent supporter of education. Washington asked the first U.S. Congress to consider establishing a national university. In his address to that first Congress, Washington stated that among other things, education was essential for “teaching the people themselves to know and to value their own rights.” He went on to say that education teaches citizens “to discriminate the spirit of liberty from that of licentiousness — cherishing the first, avoiding the last.”

The Founders thought that education would produce virtue, wisdom and love of liberty. This would prevent democracy from sinking toward rule of the uneducated, vicious mob. And it would prevent statesmen from becoming demagogues.

For two centuries, Americans have worked hard to improve our educational system. We now have universal and free public primary education. Our schools are less segregated. And our universities are the envy of the world.

But it’s not easy to provide quality education in an incredibly complex society that includes recent and noncitizens. Teachers are supposed to get this diverse group of children to understand their rights and value democratic governance.

Public school teachers are the guardians of the future of democracy. As we contemplate budget cuts and taxes for education, we should ask ourselves how much we are willing to spend in order to educate citizens (and even noncitizens) about the need to secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity.

 

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Animal Play, Religion, and Poverty

All children deserve time to play

   Andrew Fiala

Originally published Fresno Bee 2012-05-19

Most mammals play. We even play with members of different species — as we do with our pets. This is an odd development in a world in which species are supposed to struggle for existence against one another.

Animals at play are not struggling to survive. Rather, they are engaged in imaginative and empathetic activity. Some nonhuman animals even appear to have a basic idea of “fair play.”

At least that is what Robert Bellah claims. Bellah, one of the most important scholars of religion in the U.S., gave a lecture last week at Fresno State on his new book, “Religion in Human Evolution.” The book explains the evolutionary roots of ethics, religion and philosophy.

Bellah argues that play is an important source of these higher goods. Play occurs in a “relaxed field,” when we are not focused on mere existence. Religious rituals, for example, are examples of rule-governed play. Philosophy, art and science develop as we play with ideas. These activities are meaningful on their own, without reference to the struggle to survive. And they provide solace and satisfaction, as a break from the labor of living.

One could argue that a fully human life is one in which there are ample opportunities for enjoying playful and empathetic activity, outside of the concerns of work and survival. All work and no play makes us dull animals — as the saying might go. Bellah suggests that this is true of many species. Animals thrive when they are free to explore, relax and socialize.

The importance of leisure and play is found in our dreams of a perfect world. Our utopian ideals and religious paradises describe a world without labor, struggle or conflict. Christians dream of lions lying down with lambs. And Plato imagined a peaceful world in which we would play at pastimes — “sacrificing, singing and dancing.”

It makes sense that intelligent animals would imagine an ideal world in which the struggle for existence was overcome. We lament the hard work of life. We aspire to freedom from want. We even imagine that after the toils of life, we may be rewarded by resting in peace without the need to labor.

Surplus resources and physical security make it possible for us to play, reflect, explore and create. Bellah explains that even in nonhuman species, play behavior is made possible by protective parents who provide for basic needs. Nurturing parents allow the young to experiment and romp without fear of predators or hunger. This sort of nurturance allows the animal to take a break from feeding and fighting in order to frolic.

During his visit to Fresno, Bellah returned several times to the issue of poverty and injustice. The sad fact is that there are many human beings who are not free to play — people who have little time or energy for singing, dancing, science, art, religion or philosophy. This is unfair, especially when others enjoy substantial luxury.

The idea of social justice, as found in the world’s great religious and philosophical traditions, develops from this basic idea of fairness. Philosophers and prophets have long criticized injustice and inequality. Bellah suggests that fairness itself may have roots in animal evolution. He claims that some animals seem to show a sense of “fair play.” Dogs will take turns, for example, chasing each other.

Bellah connects play with childhood. But he notes that in some parts of the world the play of childhood remains a privilege of the wealthy, unavailable for poor children. Across the globe, millions of children go hungry, while Americans spend more than $50 billion per year on pet food and animal care.

Bellah writes that one way of describing unfairness is to say that “while some work, others play.” We might add that there is something unfair about a world in which dogs are well-fed, while children starve.

We flatter ourselves in thinking we are more highly evolved than the other animals. But a species that fails to provide for its own children is not clearly superior. Bellah’s evolutionary account of religion reminds us that there is still a long way to go to make sure that all human children have the opportunity to live as well as our dogs do.

 

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Democracy, education diminish our cruelty

Democracy, education diminish our cruelty

Fresno Bee, January 28, 2012

People are becoming less cruel and more humane.  This is the thesis of Steven Pinker’s optimistic new book, The Better Angels of Our Nature.  Pinker, a Harvard Psychologist, provides extensive data to support his conclusion, citing a variety of developments from low homicide rates to the demise of dueling and the abolition of slavery and torture.

He attributes some of our improvement to the fact that people are getting smarter.  He notes that rising IQ scores during the past century bode well for a more peaceful world, since smarter people are less violent.  He notes, for example, that smarter people tend to commit fewer violent crimes. He concludes, “people with more sophisticated reasoning abilities are more cooperative, have larger moral circles, and are less sympathetic to violence.”

There are reasons to be skeptical of any straightforward attempt to link intelligence with virtue.  Individuals with low IQ’s can be compassionate and kind; and some psychopaths are exceedingly clever.  But Pinker does provide some reasons to think that better education produces gentler people.

One causal mechanism for this sort of progress is literature.  Pinker thinks that representations of cruelty can change our attitudes toward violence.  And he argues that reading is a useful tool for developing empathy.  Reading demands that we imagine our way into another person’s point of view.  Widespread literacy—made possible by printing technologies and mandatory schooling—may well be a major cause of moral progress.

One sign of this progress is that fact that warfare has become less cruel.  Pinker thinks it is significant that despite the horrors that are still occasionally unleashed in war, we have self-consciously refrained from using our worst and most deadly weapons.  He suggests that nuclear warfare has become “too dangerous to contemplate, and leaders are scared straight.”

This conclusion hinges on the intelligence of our leaders.  Indeed, Pinker claims that there is a correlation between Presidential IQ and deaths in war.  According to Pinker, smarter presidents wage fewer wars and produce fewer wartime casualties.

Such a blithe conclusion should be taken with a grain of salt, since it assumes that presidents wage war in a vacuum without the input of the military or the cooperation of foreign allies.  And such a conclusion ignores the fact that our representatives in the Congress have some control over how wars are fought.

This points toward a central question: do wise and virtuous leaders cause moral improvement?  The Greek philosopher Plato thought so.  Plato rejected democracy as rule of the uneducated and unvirtuous masses.  He thought we would do better under the watchful eye of a wise and benevolent ruler who would protect us from our own vicious and ignorant ways.

We are no longer sympathetic to this idea.  Instead, we tend to believe that we are smart enough and good enough to govern ourselves. Pinker’s analysis gives us reason to trust this democratic impulse.  It is our modern democratic state and its educational system that has made us smarter and better.  Most of the moral progress that we’ve made during the past millennia has occurred under democratic government and has been facilitated by the expansion of literacy and education.

People are not born smart or good.  We are born with the capacity to learn and with a basic capacity for empathy.  But we must learn all of the specifics, including how to control our own violent impulses.  Education is essential for understanding the complex moral and political problems that confront us in our globalized world.  Intelligence and virtue develop as a result of the sustained effort of parents, teachers, and a supporting social environment.  And our moral and intellectual skills develop further, as we exercise our own capacities for self-government.

It is amazing how much moral progress we have made.  We no longer allow slavery or torturous punishments.  Women have been liberated. And we recognize that our most destructive weapons are immoral.  Good for us for figuring this out!

These moral developments were not imposed upon us by philosopher-kings.  Rather, they resulted from democratic procedures and were produced by our system of education.  The key to future progress is to trust ourselves and to continue to believe that democracy and education can make us both smarter and better.

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Let’s Raise a Glass for Those Days Gone By

Let’s Raise a Glass for Those Days Gone By

Fresno Bee, December 31, 2011

New Year’s Eve is a time for nostalgia and regret.  It is a time for remembrance about time gone past.  It is a time for dreaming abouttomorrow.  And it is a time for that old drinking song, “Auld Lang Syne.”

We sing that song at New Year’s, even though most of us don’t really know what it’s Scottish words really mean.  The song goes: “For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”  Imagine raising your cup and swaying to the music, as you sing it.  The cup is raised in a toast to the old times—the “old long since,” as it might be translated.  We drink a salute to days gone by.

New Year’s Eve is for reminiscing: about both the good times and the bad.  We celebrate our new friends and mourn those we’ve lost.  We count our blessings and chew over our failures.  Along the way, we might cook up some resolutions for the next year: ways of ensuring that the future is more satisfying and less disappointing.

Life is not, of course, without disappointment.  And New Year’s Day often begins with a disillusioning hangover.  A groggy morning is the bitter-sweet remembrance of the previous night’s elation.  A hangover reminds us that no joy comes without pain.

The bleary-eyed melancholy of the morning after also reminds us that we are usually not very good at judging our own future interests. Concerns about tomorrow’s wooziness are rarely considered in deciding whether to get drunk tonight.  That is why we borrow money, overeat, and fail to plan for retirement.  If we were rational about these things, there would be no regrets.  And we would keep our New Year’s resolutions.

Mark Twain mocked this human-all-too-human tendency in a column he wrote in 1863 for the New Year’s Day edition of the Virginia City newspaper. “Now is the accepted time to make your regular good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.  Yesterday, everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink, and swore his last oath… Thirty days from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds.”

Twain was not opposed to drinking or to smoking.  He is often pictured with a big cigar in hand.  He said, “It’s easy to quit smoking, I’ve done it a hundred times.”  Twain routinely mocked the advocates of temperance, who were lobbying to regulate alcohol consumption.  He seemed to think that drinking made it possible to deal with life’s tragedies.  He once remarked: “sometimes too much to drink is barely enough.”

Twain is not alone extolling the virtues of drink.  Human beings have been consuming alcohol and other intoxicants for millennia.  The ancient Egyptians brewed beer.  Hammurabi’s Code includes regulations for tavern owners.  And, of course, Jesus turned water into wine.

This last point is not insignificant.  The origin of religion may have something to do with intoxication.  The human mind craves varied and altered states of consciousness.  We dance, we play, we sing, and we get drunk.  And we willingly suffer from our excesses.  If the original ecstasy is great enough, we can easily accept the suffering of the morning after.

One of Plato’s most interesting works—the Symposium—represents a wine-drenched drinking party.  In fact, the Symposium takes place on the day after a previous night’s round of drinking: most of the participants are already hung-over.  The topic for discussion at this party is love.  Love is another sort of intoxication that we crave, even if it costs us significant suffering.

Plato also links love and drunkenness to wisdom. Drink loosens tongues.  It allows the artistic imagination to wander.  It helps people fall in love.  It lubricates philosophical discussions.  And it opens the memory to those days gone by.

Yes there are dangers here: drunken driving and alcoholism can both be deadly.  Some form of moderation is in order: there is a right time and a right way to get drunk.  We know that there may be hell to pay tomorrow.  But for tonight, let’s raise a cup of kindness for those days of auld lang syne.