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A Treatise
in Support
of the Idea that Constant
Uncompromising Correction of the Dumb by the Smart Must Continually Take
Place, with an Excursion into
the All-Too-Commonly
Misunderstood Nature of Selfishness, and Closing with Trifling
Allowances Made
for the Hypothetical Negative Consequences of our Success
We have
repeatedly argued in
these documents in support of a
generalized lessening on the part of the smart of tolerance of the
demonstrably
false opinions of the stupid. People
continually object to this sort of proposal or behavior based on the
grounds
that “we live in a free society.” But this objection, if
properly analyzed, is
in fact evidence for their opponents’ position: it is
precisely because we live in a free
society that
smart people must bear the responsibility of correcting everyone else.
The statement “this is
a free country” is generally taken to refer to the
assortment of rights
including Free Speech, Freedom of the Press, etc.; to the fact that the
government cannot make laws against people saying
or believing anything. The government can, of
course, make laws
against certain actions (theft,
murder, etc.), because this is necessary;
a government that did not have the
power to do this could not even accurately be called a government. We can
refer—whether in science-fiction or when insulting people in
real life—to the “thought
police,” but it would make no
sense to refer to the “action
police,” since the “action police” are
just the regular police.
But there is, of course, a relationship
between thoughts and actions. When
someone steals or
kills, it may very
well be because he believed
something
that made him more likely to steal
or
kill than the average person. In
the
case of an individual who is simply, for lack of a better term,
“crazy,” there
may be little that we can do about this.
But what about cases in which people are taught such beliefs as would increase the
likelihood of their
committing immoral actions, in an organized and public fashion? We already know that the
government can make
a law against, for example, beating up gay people—there are,
of course, already laws against
beating up anyone, including gay
people. But if a
religion teaches its members that God wants
them to beat up gay people,
then doesn’t this make it inevitable
that at least some of them will do
so?
Imagine, for a second, that the
Constitution guaranteed us
the right of Freedom of Manufacture,
and that this made it legal for a car company to make a car that could not go any slower than 66mph. The government would not
be allowed to stop
the company from making these cars, or stop people from buying them, or
from
driving them—only to give speeding tickets to people once
they did so.
This is the situation in which
a “free country” finds itself
with respect to belief: there are
beliefs that will inevitably lead
to
things that the government can ban
and has banned, but these beliefs
themselves cannot be banned and should not be banable.
The only solution is for the people
themselves to take the initiative to try and eradicate them. It is good and just that
the government can’t do
it, but because the government
can’t, the people must.
There are many who will
strongly disagree with such a
position, but this disagreement is born of a fundamental
misunderstanding of
the Founders’ intent. Americans
today
tend to believe that, if the Founders didn’t afford the government the power to do something,
then this must mean that this
thing is simply inherently bad, and
would always be wrong for anyone to do, government or otherwise:
if it is wrong for the government to tell you what to believe, people
think,
then this must mean it is also
wrong
for a private citizen to do so—after all, if it isn’t wrong, then why
can’t the government do it?
But this is
a gross—and even a dangerous—misinterpretation. The fact that the government
can’t tell the people
what to believe
not only does not mean that the people can’t tell one another what to believe, but also
that the people are not only allowed
to do so, but obliged with the responsibility to do so, because someone has to.
The Founders
didn’t believe that no opinions
were
better than any others, but rather that the superior opinions
would triumph more effectively if
the people
debated without government interference (and, since good philosophers
are not
slaves even to the Founders, it should also be mentioned that this
system would
be ideal even if it weren’t
what the
Founders had believed—it is not true because they said so;
they said so because
it was true).
If there are any readers who
are unmoved by the previous
paragraph, they are probably religious, so we’ll offer the
following checkmate
example: if it were actually wrong
for people to do anything that the government doesn’t have
the right to do,
then that would mean it would be wrong for any
individual to have a religion,
since the government
doesn’t have the
right to establish one. So,
the principle that you always try to use to argue the position that
smart
people have no right to try and get people to stop believing in your
religion
would also mean that
you’re not
allowed to have one in the first place!
BOOM!!
Now, a Religious-Conservative
reader—assuming that they were
paying the slightest bit of attention, and that they possessed even the
most
rudimentary logical skills—would almost certainly have jumped
up a few
paragraphs ago and exclaimed “Aha! I’ve
got you now, 1585! If you are arguing that it is the duty of
the people to try and stamp out beliefs that lead to immoral actions,
then, if
I could prove that religion makes people behave more morally than
atheism, you
would be obliged to admit that the people should attempt to stamp out
atheism!”
We’re glad that the
hypothetical religious person was paying
attention, but we’re afraid that this is not a valid
counterpoint, for several
reasons. Firstly,
atheism isn’t so much
a belief as the absence
of a belief, just as cold
isn’t really a thing in itself but rather the absence
of heat (when someone says “shut the door;
you’re letting
the cold air in,” what they actually mean is
“you’re letting the warm
air out”). The difference is as
follows: if a crazy person believes himself to be a kangaroo, this is
indeed
the presence of a (false) belief; if a non-crazy person, on the
other hand, does not believe
himself
to be a kangaroo, this is merely the absence
of the false belief. If
someone wanted
to “stamp out” non-self-to-be-a-kangarooism, then
this would actually entail inculcating
people with the belief that
they are kangaroos.
How exactly do you stamp
out the absence of
something?
Secondly, and more importantly,
1585 believes that all
“beliefs that lead to good things” arguments must always be subject to objective reality:
to truth and
falsehood. We would
be for the abolition
of a belief that led to wrong action as long
as that belief was false,
and against the promotion
of a false
belief even if it led to right action.
But this is still a moral
argument, because it is predicated on our general principle
that all false beliefs will
eventually
lead to more wrong action in the
long
run, even if they lead to less
wrong
action in the immediate future. Religion
itself is a fabulous illustration of this principle (in fact,
it’s where we got
the idea in the first place, so thanks!).
Once the mind becomes
accustomed to the concept of just believing
whatever about one thing,
it will hunger for the easy
solution of just believing whatever
about other things too. This will naturally lead
to the individual
selecting the most self-serving
beliefs, which will inevitably lead to the most self-serving actions, which is the very definition of
immorality. These
last few sentences may
sound conservative, but they are
actually not: ironically, it is conservatism, not liberalism, that is the
more dedicated to self-serving beliefs,
which is why conservatism is wedded to religion and (the good kind of)
liberalism is wedded to science. People
tend to think of liberalism as meaning “people can do
whatever they want” and
conservatism as meaning “no, they can’t,”
but what they don’t
realize is that it is the second
philosophy that is the more
self-centered of the two (at least, in cases where the beliefs about
what
others should or shouldn’t be allowed to do are false): You see, for most people,
believing that you are better than others
feels better than doing
whatever you want does—ergo, adherence to a
philosophy
centered on the idea that everyone else
is doing all these things that are wrong but I am better than them
because I
refrain from doing these things is more
self-centered than adherence to a philosophy stating that everyone can do whatever they want as long as they
aren’t hurting
anyone, even if the “everyone” of the
second philosophy includes you. Very often, of course, the
rub is that the
“everyone” includes you in
theory but
not in practice—e.g.
“everyone is
theoretically allowed to have sex, but in practice I can’t
because I am ugly,
so I will think up a reason why it is wrong to have sex and allow
myself to
believe it, which makes me better than them rather than the other way
around.”
Here we must distinguish
between self-interest and selfishness.
Something that is in your
self-interest may also
be in the interests of other
people,
whereas something that is selfish
is
in only your interest, or in the
interest
of you and a small group of select others, to the exclusion of everyone
else. It may have
seemed a logical assumption to
many people to conclude that those people who are observed to act in the most self-gratifying ways
must also harbor the most selfish beliefs,
but, as we have just shown, this is not actually the case—if
someone who
behaves in a self-gratifying way is also
happy to extend the opportunity for self-gratification to others in
equal
proportion, then the belief that supports the action is not a selfish
one.
No further illustration of this
point is needed than the
standard response of a grade-school teacher to a student who produces a
piece
of candy: “did you bring enough for
everyone?” If
the student has in fact brought
enough candy for
everyone, then the action is not selfish,
but rather generous, regardless of
the fact that the student presumably eats some of the candy themself, and enjoys
doing so. Of
course,
the student who brought in the candy is likely to be treated as a hero by their classmates for doing so,
and it is entirely possible that this fact played a role in their
motivation—but
what difference does that make? Does
it
mean that the students who didn’t
bring in candy are in actuality more
generous than the one who did? How
could
that be?
1585 advocates
self-gratification within the bounds of
logically justifiable morality and scientifically justifiable belief. And, unlike religious
types, we do not decide
for ourselves what is logical or scientific—logic and science
decide that. The
term Free
Thinker has often been applied to Liberals, but in a way,
this is a
misnomer. Non-religious
thought appears
to be “free”
because it has
historically been unorthodox, but a
scientific and logical mind cannot
simply believe whatever it likes—it
is bound to concrete accountability.
When religious
people, on the
other hand, get tired of believing a particular thing, and would prefer
to
believe something else, they can simply change
the religion (and do so often).
But what about the idea that
there need to be idiots who believe
dumb things? Many
have objected to our widespread-smartening
endeavors, usually in the form of the “society
would fall apart” arguments of which Conservatives
are so terribly
fond. If everyone
were smart, the
argument goes, then there would be no-one willing to do the myriad
undesirable
jobs that a functioning society unfortunately needs people to do. In the case of religious dumbness, the argument
continues, this goes hand-in-glove
with regular dumbness, since it prevents the dumb from getting too pissed off about having to do the
crap jobs that they end up having to do because of their regular
dumbness. (It
should certainly be noted, by the way,
that any Conservative who argues this is tacitly admitting
that religion is false and that the dumb are dumb, and is
therefore not one of those “I
believe it
myself” Conservatives, but rather one of the far
less pitiable “don’t let
the cat out of the bag”
Conservatives, who merely pretends
to
be one of the former kind in public.)
The idea that the stupid are
more useful to the smart stupid
than they would be smart is not inherently conservative, of course, nor
is it
wholly false. The
soundness of the idea
can be demonstrated by Richard Dawkins’s analogy of two
armies, one of which
believes in a bloodthirsty War God who rewards those who die bravely in
battle,
and the other of which does not believe in such a god.
The army more likely to win the battle is the
former (assuming that both are of comparable size, equally
well-equipped,
etc.), but the individual most
likely
to survive the battle would be someone in
the War-God army who does not
believe
in the War God himself—this
individual would hang back in
the battle
and try to look busy, but his army
would still be victorious.
Dawkins, of course, is only
using this analogy to
demonstrate that individual evolution trumps group evolution (it is a descriptive argument, not
a prescriptive argument advocating
selfishness)—but it can also be
used to demonstrate that there are situations where it can be more
advantageous
for a smart individual to be surrounded by stupid people than by other
smart
people. But
convenient examples can be
used to demonstrate just about anything—the relevant question
is, how analogous
is this battle to our situation in American society today, and the
answer is,
not very. As far as
we can tell, there
are currently no widespread stupid
beliefs that are helping American
society—all presently popular stupid beliefs are doing
considerably more harm
than good. Even blind patriotism, traditionally the most
frequently employed non-religious
method of convincing the
common man to run off and die for the benefit of the ruling class,
appears to
be causing America to wage its current war(s?) worse,
not better.
But if a Conservative is going
to go the whole nine yards
and say “if everyone in the country were suddenly a
fancy-pants philosopher,
then we would just get invaded and killed by some country that still
has a ton
of blind-obedience psychos in it,” then yes, we suppose
that’s true. If
everyone
in a particular country suddenly
became really smart at the same time,
the end result might very well be bad
(assuming that this didn’t also happen in every other country
as well). So, does
this mean that smart people should stop
trying to make everyone smart?
The answer is an unqualified no. The only
possible response is that smart people still
have to try as hard as they can. Yes,
for the sake of philosophical soundness
we must allow for the possibility that things would be worse if we were as successful as we wished to
be right away, but this does not dictate an imperative to hold back.
Consider the analogy of a
fistfight. Someone
has unjustly assaulted you, and you
are about to punch him back. You
hit him
as hard as you can, and you also wish
that you had the ability to hit him even harder.
Of course, if you actually could
hit him as hard as you would like to be able
to do in that
moment, you would kill him, and you probably don’t wish to
kill him—but if you considered
that, and held back, then you would
barely hit him at all. The only appropriate
action is to hit him as hard as you can,
secure in the
knowledge that you don’t actually
possess
the power to hit him hard enough to kill him.
If the fistfight analogy does
not serve, consider the
situation of doctors and scientists.
If
doctors and scientists were always
successful in saving lives and curing diseases, then the world would
quickly
become overpopulated to the point of uninhabitability.
In other words, the result of trying to save
everyone, if the efforts to save
everyone were 100% successful,
would
be enormously negative. But does this mean that
doctors and
scientists should hold back from
trying to save every patient or cure every disease, or that it is immoral for them to try to do so? No—because of
the fact that it is impossible for
them to be 100%
successful.
And this is the situation of
the smart person—or, rather,
the situation of smart people as a group.
Yes, it is true that if we were 100% successful in
trying to make
everyone else smart, then there would be no-one left to do shitty jobs
and so
forth. But does
this mean that we
shouldn’t try? No. We must continue to try as
hard as we can to
do this, secure in the knowledge that we will never be 100%
successful—or that,
if one day we are, it will have taken long enough that civilization
will have
progressed alongside the human mind to the point where there
aren’t any shitty
jobs anymore, and for other societies to have kept pace sufficiently
that there
are no longer nations with 90%-idiot populations waiting to invade for
no
reason, etc.
(This rationale, by the way,
can be used to answer all
conservative “what if everyone blah
blah blah?” objections.
It is a strategy they are fond of using [many
of them think it is a correct application of Kant’s
categorical imperative,
when it isn’t, because the categorical imperative applies to
specific actions, not to what you are over the course of your whole life,
and besides the categorical imperative is stupid anyway, e.g.
“Would I wish for
everyone to go around pushing people all the time?
No? Well,
then I guess I can’t push this guy
out of the path of this
speeding bus.” The
reason the
categorical imperative falls apart, by the way, is because actions are
named by
the same terms across all contexts, when in fact the
“same” action effectively
breaks down into different actions in different contexts, e.g. in my
previous
example, there would be no problem if we had one word for “to
shove in anger”
and another word for “to knock out of the way of,”
but we just use the word
“push” or “shove” in both
contexts; thus the reason the categorical imperative
dissolves is because it requires the categorization of
actions, and
the
categorization of actions requires language, and language is an
imperfect
approximation], one of their favorite applications being “if
everyone were gay,
then the human race would cease to exist because no children would be
born;
therefore it is immoral to be gay.”
This
can easily be answered be plugging just about anything
into the “if
everyone were ______” template, e.g. “if
everyone were a fireman then
no-one would get their mail because there would be no mailmen, and if
everyone
were a mailman then no-one would be able to read because there would be
no
teachers, and if everyone were a teacher then we would have no
government, and
so forth, so I guess that means it is immoral to have any kind of job
at all,
and for that matter immoral not to
have a job as well, so by your logic there is no such thing as morality
because
it massively contradicts itself, unless of course you concede that the
‘if everyone were ______’
construction is
stupid, which it is.”)
In conclusion, we would like to
apologize for the fact that
this essay is not funny. We
wrote most
of it months ago, before we started being funny, and then put it aside
because
we kept getting distracted by other stuff we wanted to write about, but
decided
to finish and post it now because the essay we intended to put up this
weekend
is taking forever, and because we always knew we wanted to use this one
eventually, since even though it is not funny it is still awesome. Anyway, to make up for the
fact that this
essay is not funny, here’s a joke:
A little kid gets out of school
one day and is waiting on
the corner for his parents to pick him up, when he sees a
welder’s mask lying
in the street. Intrigued,
he picks it up
and puts it on, and just at that moment, a child molester pulls up,
tells him
something about his parents not being able to make it, and offers him a
ride. Not being the
brightest kid in the
world, he gets into the car.
After a while, the child
molester gets excited and starts in
with the dirty talk. “Boy,”
he asks, “do
you know what it is when a man has an erection?”
“No,” says
the kid.
Another minute goes by, and
then the child molester asks
“Son, do you know what it signifies when a man and a little
boy get in bed
together?”
“Not
really,” says the kid.
At that point, the child
molester can’t take it anymore,
pulls over, and asks “Kid, do you know what it is when white
stuff comes out of
a man’s penis?”
The kid thinks for a second,
then looks over at the child
molester and hesitantly replies “Hey, mister… you know… I’m not a real
welder.”
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