Moral Moments

“Rationality,” like any other word, can be used to mean different things. [1] But one meaning in particular appeals to me because it sheds light on a couple of mysteries about rationality. One of the mysteries is that rationality, which often prides itself on being the mode of justification par excellence, cannot itself be justified, that is, in its own terms as rational, without begging the question. The other mystery is how some human beings, including fully functional human beings, can nevertheless profess irrationality and even in fact be irrational.  I propose that the solution of both mysteries lies in understanding rationality very simply as a tool, and in particular as a tool for accomplishing things or achieving goals with maximal efficiency and efficacy. By efficiency I mean in the swiftest and most economical manner and by efficacy I mean accomplishing them at all.  Given this understanding of what it means to be rational, it is easy enough to understand why some people

One of the great ironies of existence is that giving up a desire can satisfy as much as getting what you desire. This has two distinct aspects.  One is the avoidance of pain by eliminating the possibility of disappointment, frustration, and so on when not getting something you want very much is replaced by simply not wanting it .  Of course this option may still leave something to be, ahem, desired, if, as I will presume, genuine happiness consists in the satisfaction of getting the things you want very much. [1] Thus, the Buddha’s prescription for ending suffering – namely, to eliminate desire – seems too harsh, at least if taken literally. Perhaps it is a last resort for someone for whom the pain of existence overwhelms any hope of happiness.  But note that even not wanting something could itself be the object of a desire; for example, you might sincerely desire to stop feeling the urge to bite your nails, or the craving for alcohol. Perhaps more precisely what you desire

My friend took me out to lunch the other day. En route in his car we came to a narrow stop-light intersection in a construction zone, with cars backed up. When the light turned green my friend held back to allow a truck to exit an establishment on our side of the road and cross our lane and into the oncoming lane. This caused another delay, so that by the time the truck cleared our lane there was only an opportunity for our car and one or two others behind us to get through the intersection.              It struck me that my friend, in being considerate of the truck driver, was failing completely to take into account the needs of the many car drivers behind us. The more effective altruism, therefore, it seemed to me, would have been for us to drive ahead and hope that, when the light turned red, some driver would stop their car far enough behind the stopped car in front of them to allow the truck to pass through while all the cars were stopped anyway. [1]               When we got

It is obvious that human beings have a mix of motives and desires in our makeup, some of which are directed toward our personal gratification and others of which intend the welfare or happiness of others. Yet the idea that, at base, all of our desires, no matter how selfless in appearance, have their roots in self-concern is pervasively sensed and sometimes explicitly asserted. This is the thesis of psychological egoism, [1] which both has an obvious appeal and seems obviously wrong. The appeal is twofold: Psychological egoism (from now on just “egoism”) speaks to the cynic and skeptic in all of us, and it lets us off the hook of having to aspire to moral standards of self-sacrifice (for if we are all incorrigibly selfish, it serves no point to tell us not to be, not to mention admonish or punish us for being so). And yet it also seems patent that people are capable of great feats, as well as little gestures, of selflessness out of pure concern for others. [2]               Naturall