William James's Pragmatic
Theory of David Louzecky Rational Belief
Explained and Refuted
W. K. Clifford, that enfant terrible, as
James calls him, puts forward a claim
bold enough to deserve the moniker: “it is wrong always, everywhere, and for
everyone to believe anything upon insufficient evidence” (“The Ethics of
Belief” 186). In “The Will to Believe” James counters with a flurry of examples
and explanations which constitute a defense of pragmatic rationality: under
certain conditions, it is both right and reasonable for us to choose beliefs
that promote our interests. James is well aware of the absurdity of both the
claim that in general desires render beliefs rational and the claim that in
general we can voluntarily choose our beliefs. Nevertheless, he thinks there
are circumstances in which we can voluntarily choose what to believe, that we
have the right to choose beliefs which advance our interests, and that the
beliefs are rendered rational thereby. He is preaching “the liberty of
believing,” defending “our right to adopt a believing attitude in religious
matters, in spite of the fact that our merely logical intellect may not have
been coerced,” and advocating “the lawfulness of voluntarily adopted faith.”
“We have the right,” he says, “to believe at our own risk any hypothesis that
is live enough to tempt our will” (Preface to Will x, “Will” 1‑2,
2, and 29 respectively).
The liberty
James is preaching is not a wholesale liberty; it is limited to genuine
options. What then are genuine options? The decision between two hypotheses is
an option. An hypothesis, “anything that may be proposed to our belief,” may be
live or dead; a live hypothesis is one that appeals to us as a real
possibility. An option then may be live or dead, forced or avoidable, momentous
or trivial: a living option is one in which both hypotheses are live; a forced
option is one in which one or the other hypothesis must be believed, where
there can be no suspended judgment or where suspended judgment counts as
disbelief; and a momentous option is one in which the opportunity is unique,
the stake significant, and the decision irreversible. A genuine option
then is one which is live, forced, and momentous (“Will” 2‑4).
The most
important point about limiting the applicability of pragmatic reasons to
genuine options is that whenever the evidence favors one hypothesis over
another, pragmatic considerations can play no legitimate role. There can be no
conflict between pragmatic and epistemic reasons.
For James holds that whenever there is evidence, not only is it not legitimate
to believe for pragmatic reasons, but it is also not possible to choose
beliefs:
Can we, by just
willing it, believe that Abraham Lincoln's existence is a
myth
. . .? Can we, by any effort of our will, or by any strength of wish that it
were true, believe . . . that the sum of the two one‑dollar bills in our
pocket must be a hundred dollars? We can say any of these things, but we
are absolutely impotent to believe them; and of just such things is the whole
fabric of the truths that we do believe in made up—matters of fact, immediate
or remote, as Hume said, and relations between ideas, which are either there or
not there for us if we see them so, and which if not there cannot be put there
by any action of our own. (“Will” 4‑5)
Shortly, he concludes that, “The talk
of believing by our volitions seems, then, from one point of view, simply
silly. From another point of view it is worse than silly, it is vile” (7).
James is well
aware of the sort of forceful criticism that can be leveled against a wholesale
use of pragmatic reasons with respect to belief. However, he thinks that if the
hypotheses to which pragmatic reasons are applied are limited to genuine
options, these criticisms can be avoided; he thinks that when genuine options
are under consideration, it is both possible and legitimate to believe what we
wish.
These
admissions of the illegitimacy of wholesale pragmatic justification are
followed in “The Will to Believe” by a presentation of the psychological fact
that our opinions are not formed by pure reason alone. Our willing nature and
passions almost always play a part, that is, fears and hopes and desires are
often part of an account of the origin of the beliefs we hold (8‑11).
I really
doubt that anyone ever doubted this; as an explanatory thesis it seems
unexceptionable. According to James, however, “Our next duty, having recognized
this mixed-up state of affairs, is to ask whether it be simply reprehensible
and pathological, or whether, on the contrary, we must treat it as a normal
element in making up our minds. The thesis I defend is, briefly stated, this: Our
passional nature not only lawfully may, but must, decide an option between
propositions, whenever it is a genuine option that cannot by its nature
be decided on intellectual grounds . . .” (“Will” 11).
It is a fact
that passions play a part in the formation of beliefs, but to decide that it's
normal rather than pathological, as we must, is certainly not to decide anything
in his favor. From the above two irrelevant considerations (Passions do play a
part in belief formation, and it's normal.), we are pushed to an ambiguously
stated thesis: if passions in fact play a part, then it is lawful that they do.
It could be lawful because they fit into lawful generalizations about how we
form our beliefs. The question, however, is whether they are lawful in another
sense, namely, rationally legitimate.
The theses
James is arguing are these: First, believing is an action we can perform.
Interests not only play a non‑voluntary causal or explanatory role in the
formation of our beliefs, but it is also possible under certain conditions, to
voluntarily choose our beliefs to accord with them. There are two points here:
first, we can voluntarily choose our beliefs; and second, since we can
voluntarily choose them, we can choose them to accord with our interests.
Second, when we can voluntarily choose to believe, it is both right and
rational to choose to believe according to our interests. There are two points
here too: an ethical sanction and an epistemic sanction. I don't think James is
at all confused about what supports what. He is simply breaking down our
resistance, inching us along toward acceptance of his view. What I am
attempting to do is keep our resistance up: the fact that our desires do in
fact play a part in the formation of our beliefs and the fact that in at least
one sense the role of desire is “normal” and “lawful” go nowhere toward showing
that we can believe at will or that, if we could, believing according to our
desires would be both right and rational.
James
reiterates his position that “facts are what they are quite independently of
us,” and that we should not make “up our minds at all till objective evidence
has come” (“Will” 20). This applies, of course, to those options which are not
genuine. When we face a genuine option, we ought to act differently. But are
there any genuine options, and “can we (as men who may be interested at least
as much in positively gaining truth as in merely avoiding dupery) always wait
with impunity till the coercive evidence shall have arrived” (22)? His answer
is that whether moral skepticism is correct is such a genuine option. Whether
there is a moral reality in our world is a question to be decided by the heart,
not the mind. Since there is no evidence to show that certain things are really
good or bad, perhaps our preferences are only odd biological phenomena. We must
choose and risk our life one way or the other (22‑23). James holds a
similar position with respect to epistemic skepticism (14‑17).
Immediately
following his comments on moral skepticism, James presents two other
examples—and the confusion, I think, begins. The first has to do with personal
relations: whether you like me may depend on my evidenceless belief that you
do. And the second has to do with the operation of social organisms: on many
occasions many members proceed to perform certain actions, trusting that other
members will simultaneously perform similar actions (“Will” 22‑25). These
two examples are supposed to be, together with the case of moral skepticism,
members of a special class of beliefs: the truth of the belief requires the
belief (24‑25). For example, the belief that you like me is false, but I
believe anyway because I want you to like me; my belief influences my attitude
and behavior toward you in such a way that you end up liking me. So, my belief
brought it about that my belief is true—in order for the belief to be true, it
was necessary that I believe.
For those
with a critical bent, there is a gold mine here, but I will be satisfied with
only three nuggets: First, this class is often call “self‑verifying
beliefs,” which is a misnomer. There may be some self‑verifying beliefs,
but they are rather different from these. Second, the three cases discussed by
James are not all alike in the respect he suggests. There are also other cases
which he thinks are similar but are not. Third, the point of the personal
relations and social organism cases is to show that there are cases where we
can believe what we want without evidence—for our belief may make the belief
true—and moral skepticism is one of these cases. This could be the case for
moral skepticism only in a sense that James, and most of us, would not accept.
The term self‑verifying
belief suggests that there are beliefs that somehow verify themselves,
but I can't think of any. The closest would be “sense‑data beliefs”: I
believe that I am now being appeared to blue(ly). Perhaps just believing that I
am appeared to in a certain way is enough to make it true that I am so appeared
to, but I doubt it. It's a rather odd belief anyway, and most important, it has
nothing to do with what James is talking about. Another possibility that has
nothing to do with what James is talking about is this: I believe that I
believe that p. Perhaps I cannot be mistaken about my beliefs, in which
case believing that I believe that p ensures that I believe that p,
which is sufficient for the truth of my belief that I believe that p.
But again, I probably can be mistaken, and James has other things in mind.
What James
has in mind is pretty clear. He thinks there are certain beliefs which could be
made true by the actions they govern, and in this he is certainly right. I
might believe that I can make seven feet in the high jump, and this belief
might provide the confidence which energizes me to make the jump. James thinks
that the belief‑action connection is clear and straightforward and that
it always works positively.
Consider the
latter first. Does believing one can do something always make one perform
better? Confidence usually helps, but overconfidence is often defeating.
Automobile races usually take several hours to complete and are usually won by
only a few seconds: this means that every corner must be navigated at the edge
of disaster. Too much braking, too much gearing down, too little acceleration,
leads to too many seconds, and perhaps the race, being lost. But too little
braking and the car will leave the track where injury is a certainty and death
a possibility. Professional drivers, like other athletes, report that they must
fight both fear and overconfidence. So, the belief may have a negative rather
than a positive effect. Overconfidence could also cause one to put out too
little effort.
Of course, if
we believe we can't do something, we probably won't even try; however, there
are other belief possibilities. We might not believe either that we can or
can't but will “try and see.” Or, most likely, we will believe we probably can
if we work hard enough and nothing interferes. But that's a pretty innocuous
belief, and it's probably the sort of belief we have when engaging in the sorts
of activities James has in mind.
Consider his
famous precipice case (“Is Life Work Living?” 5, and “The Sentiment of
Rationality” 96‑97). Having worked my way onto a ledge from which there
is no retreat, I am faced with two options: stay and starve, or leap. The
precipice is neither a two‑foot cinch nor a twenty‑foot
impossibility. Being a climber, not a jumper, I have no good evidence. Must I
believe I can make the leap? There is simply no need in such cases to hold an
evidenceless belief based on desire. All I need to believe is the truth:
leaping offers the only chance to survive, and since it is a long leap, I had
better try my damnedest.
Most of
James's other cases can be handled similarly. Consider his case concerning
personal relations. If we want someone to like us, is it really necessary to
believe, without evidence, that he or she does like us? Why can't we simply
believe the truth, namely, if we want someone to like us, we should treat him
or her with consideration and honesty? We can simply believe the truth, and the
truth, I think, will work best. Part of James's reason for suggesting that we
hold these evidenceless beliefs is that he thinks that so believing is the only
way to attain certain desirable and important ends. What I have shown is that
not only are there alternative ways to achieve these ends but that these
alternatives are superior. Disdain is the proper attitude to display toward
those who without evidence are presumptuous enough to believe (and act as
though) we like them. And there can be little that is more foolish than rising
against armed brigands without evidence that our cohorts will back us up.
The cases so
far discussed—personal relations, social organisms, and the precipice—are
offered in support of other cases like the case of moral skepticism. But it is
not clear that moral skepticism is really an analogous case: how is my belief
that the universe is moral going to bring it about that the universe is in fact
moral? It seems that we are faced with a pervasive ambiguity. If we believe
that the universe is moral, then we may act morally and thereby contribute
toward making the universe moral. But we make it moral in this sense: we
increase the amount of behavior which is morally good. There is, however,
another sense: some things are “objectively” good, bad, right, wrong, that is,
values are part of the make‑up of the universe, and if these values are
not completely independent of sentient beings, they are at least independent of
immediate, individual desires and behavior. For example, something may be good
or right because it has some connection with producing pleasant sensations in
people—so this good thing is not good independent of people's feelings; but
people do not make it true that there are good and bad things by desiring that
there are. We might use nuclear energy for good or bad, but we cannot do
anything to make it true that good and bad are part of the character of the
universe. Our belief that the universe is moral seems to have no effect on
whether the universe is moral in the objective sense. But surely it is this
objective sense that James has in mind. There is then some confusion in his
view.
The exact
nature of the confusion can be brought out more clearly by considering the
somewhat clearer case of religious belief. Ordinarily, when we say that we
believe in God, we are making an ontological claim and commitment. However,
there are some religions without such ontological claims and commitments; these
religions are simply ways of living or lifestyles. Here then are the two senses
of religious belief: one which involves ontological commitments and the other
which is simply a recommendation to act in certain ways. A. J. Ayer,
considering James's pragmatic arguments, claims that James robs religion of its
ontological import (The Origins of Pragmatism 212). This sort of
criticism is perfectly understandable because James's arguments, being
pragmatic, properly justify actions, not beliefs; they justify or support the
recommendation of a lifestyle. That is not, however, what James thought he was
justifying. Ayer saves James from more severe criticism by depicting him as
justifying something other than what he intended.
If Ayer is
right, then all the cases are fairly analogous, and the only problem is that
James does not justify what he wants justified, namely, the objectivity of
values and the existence of God. If I am right, then there are a number of
different difficulties. First, James's cases are not analogous with those they
are supposed to support, and second, his over‑all pragmatic argument
fails. The first can be relegated to a persuasive attempt to win our assent.
The second is simply the central philosophical issue: can pragmatic reasons
justify beliefs?
The only way
to settle the issue over which Ayer and I disagree is to offer some textual
support. James does, of course, say things which suggest that he sees religion
as a lifestyle; but, as far as I can tell, he never says it is nothing but a
lifestyle. And he does say, explicitly, that the belief in God involves an ontological
commitment. He says that we come upon and find God as something which exists.
God is not merely an object of loyalty but has some essential characteristics,
for example, God is the deepest power in the universe and a mental personality.
God's personality, like other personalities, is outside my own and other than
me (“Reflex Action and Theism” 121‑2). Later in the same article, he says
that it is an empirical fact that the thinking subject, a person, and the
object thought, God, are numerically two and that, “it is sufficient for him to
know that he himself is, and needs God; and that behind this universe God
simply is and will be forever, and will in some way hear his call” (135). He
also says that, “the world interpreted religiously is not the materialistic
world over again, with an altered expression: it must have, over and above the
altered expression, a natural constitution different at some point from that
which a materialistic world would have” (The Varieties of Religious
Experience 517).
It must be
admitted that he also says, “in all truths dependent on our personal actions,
then, faith based on desire is certainly a lawful and possibly an indispensable
thing” (“Will” 25). But clearly, the existence of God does not depend on our
beliefs, desires, or actions. Does he then think that the belief in God has no
ontological import? I think not. What then does he mean by “truths dependent on
our personal action”? I have already discussed this with regard to self‑verifying
beliefs, and James's examples are clear enough. If we interpret the cases of
God, immortality, the objectivity of values, and free will as analogous with
the precipice, personal relations, and social organisms examples, then none of
these has any ontological import. Since I think James meant them all to have
ontological import, I must offer some explanation.
First, there
is a persuasive point. James's talks on faith were given to audiences that he
viewed as scientifically and agnostically inclined. He was trying to break down
their demand at every point for evidence (Preface to Will x-xi). Second,
there is a similarity if not an analogy: although my belief and action cannot
make it true that God exists, my belief and action may help put me in a
position to verify my belief. In other words, I am more likely to look for and
find God if I believe in God first (“Will” 28). Third, whether or not there is
a God, James thinks it is better to believe that there is: “if it should turn
out, as indeed it may, that I have spent my days in a fool's paradise, why,
better have been the dupe of such a dreamland than the cunning reader of a
world like that which then beyond all doubt unmasks itself to view”
(“Sentiment” 96; cf. “Is Life Worth Living?” 52). Since we can will to believe,
we academics need something to prompt our wills, to motivate us to believe; we
need pragmatic reasons not evidence.
Finally,
although our belief and action do not create God, they may help sustain God.
James sees a genuine conflict between good and evil going on in the world, the
outcome of which depends on which side we support. He says that, “often enough
our faith beforehand in an uncertified result is the only thing that
makes the result come true” (“Is Life Worth Living?” 59). This sentence
precedes the precipice case, while this sentence follows it: “You make one or
the other of two possible universes true by your trust or mistrust—both
universes having been only maybes, in this particular, before you
contributed your act.” Immediately, he says, “Now, it appears to me that the
question whether life is worth living is subject to conditions logically much
like these. It does, indeed, depend on you the liver” (59‑60). On the
next page, he continues:
Once
more it is a case of maybe; and once more maybes are the essence
of the situation. I confess that I do not see why the very existence of an
invisible world may not in part depend on the personal response which any one
of us may make to the religious appeal. God himself, in short, may draw vital
strength and increase of very being from our fidelity. For my own part, I do
not know what the sweat and blood and tragedy of this life mean, if they mean
anything short of this. If this life be not a real fight, in which something is
eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of
private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like
a real fight. . . . (61)
James thinks
that God does exist but that he needs our help in overcoming evil and bringing
about the kingdom of heaven. Before leveling criticism, it should be noted that
this is one of the very few religious views on which our moral lives
matter—other than to ourselves. Now for the criticism: we have the right to
believe those things the truth of which our action can create, but no action on
our part can create God. James is making four specious claims: first, since
believing is an action, we can, on occasion, voluntarily choose our beliefs;
second, when believing creates the truth of the belief, we have the moral and
epistemic right to choose to believe what we want; third, there are certain
beliefs, such as the belief in God, which although we cannot create their
truth, we are much better off believing, whether they are true or not; and
fourth, our only chance of finding out whether they are true is to believe, and
there are closely connected things, such as the kingdom of heaven, which do
require our action.
Perhaps,
however, he does think we can create the existence of God. He did think that
many propositions contain a personal contribution— many more than I would
allow: “In every proposition whose bearing is universal (and such are all the
propositions of philosophy), the acts of the subject and their consequences
throughout eternity should be included in the formula” (“Sentiment” 97). Later,
he says that, “Wherever the facts to be formulated contain such a contribution,
we may logically, legitimately, and inexpugnably, believe what we desire. The
belief creates its verification. The thought becomes literally father to the
fact, as the wish was father to the thought” (103).
Even science
requires a personal contribution, according to James. We would never have
discovered the harmonies in nature if we did not first believe that they were
there and act on our belief. And we would not have believed and acted if we did
not have a desire or need for harmony (“Is Life Worth Living?” 55‑56). He
thinks that faith in the uniformity of nature is analogous to faith in God, and
only personal preference allows one but not the other (“Sentiment” 90‑94,
and “Reflex Action” 120). If we take this science‑religion analogy seriously,
then perhaps the only confusion is one between verification and facts. On
James's view, we create verification by believing and acting on or testing our
belief. But it is pushing too far to say we create the fact. We may believe and
seek and discover God, but we do not create God.
I agree with
Ayer that all of James's arguments actually support no more than certain
actions, a lifestyle. However, I have shown that James thinks they support
more, namely, certain beliefs which have ontological import. If Ayer is right,
then although James's arguments are adequate, they are supporting something
other than what James says they are supporting. If I am right, then although
James's arguments apply to what he says they do, they are inadequate: in other
words, pragmatic reasons do not justify beliefs.
How could
James have made such a blunder? It is not hard to understand. The key is his
assumption that believing is an action. If we are faced with a belief which is
live, forced, and momentous—if there is no evidence either way—it does seem to
make sense to go ahead and believe what is to our advantage. Of course, it
makes sense to talk of “going ahead and believing” only if believing is an
action we can voluntarily perform. The assumption that believing is an action
explains other important matters as well. It explains the large amount of
persuasion. James sees his audience as refusing to believe because of the lack
of evidence. He is attempting to persuade them to exercise their wills and believe
in line with their interests. Of philosophical interest are his arguments to
the effect that they have the right to believe what they wish in such
situations.
James is a
tough‑minded empiricist: whenever there is evidence for or against a
belief, the hypothesis is dead; that is, there is no voluntary belief choice
and no possibility of justifying the belief by appeals to desires. However,
there are a few cases—God, objective values, free will, immortality—which seem
to James to have the following two characteristics: first, there is no clear
evidence one way or the other and no prospect of getting any, and second,
holding these beliefs is of the utmost importance.
These are not
instances of an odd belief here or there. These are the set of beliefs which
sets the conditions of our lives. Are they really evidentially unfounded? The
easiest way to refute James would be to unsheathe the evidence which slays the
hypothesis. But that would not end the matter because so many more recent
pragmatists have adopted James's program of justification without maintaining
the integrity of his qualifications. When theories are underdetermined by data,
when facts are theory‑laden, indeed, “fabricated,” then death is spelled
for the thesis of dead hypotheses. They are all alive, waiting to be judged by
our interests.
If only he
would, Clifford could, it may seem, halt the resurrection; and he does, after
all, make a good beginning. Only evidence, he says, is relevant to rational
belief. But he comes to a bad ending because, like James, he assumes that
believing is an action we can perform. In his famous case, the shipowner is
wrong in sending the ship to sea, wrong in failing to inquire into its
soundness, and—most important for this discussion—wrong in believing because he
did so on evidence less than sufficient.
Given their
common assumption about the voluntariness of believing, surely James is right.
If believing is an action we can perform, then it is both right and rational to
believe what promotes our interests. Why do we value the truth, after all? Most
of the time, almost always, knowing the truth promotes, or is important in
promoting, our interests. But their common assumption is, I think, false.
Believing is not an action and is not subject to ethical evaluation. It is
subject to epistemic evaluation; only what bears on truth and falsehood is
relevant. Since pragmatic reasons are irrelevant, James’s pragmatic theory of
rational belief is false.
_
Works Cited
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William. “Is Life Worth Living?” (1895). In James, Will 32‑62.
———.
“Reflex Action and Theism” (1881). In James, Will 111‑144.
———.
“The Sentiment of Rationality” (1879‑1880). In James, Will 63‑110.
———.
The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902). NY: Longmans, Green, 1928.
———.
“The Will to Believe” (1896). In James, Will 1‑31.
———. Preface to The
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———. The Will to Believe and Other Essays
in Popular Philosophy (1897) and Human Immortality[COMMENT1]
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For comments on drafts
early and late I’d like to thank Fred Dretske, Lynn Gordon, and Thomas Zillner.
Epistemic reasons are
reasons that bear on the truth; we could call them evidential reasons if we
stipulated, counter to usual usage, that purely logical consideration were not
excluded. Pragmatic reasons are reasons that bear on our interests; we could
call them instrumental or beneficial. Cf. Martin 18-21.
Here's how Goodman
begins Ch. 6 of Ways of Worldmaking: “My title, ‘The Fabrication of
Facts,’ has the virtue not only of indicating pretty clearly what I am going to
discuss but also of irritating those fundamentalists who know very well that
facts are found not made, that facts constitute the one and only real world,
and that knowledge consists of believing the facts.” For a lengthy discussion
of the origins and modifications of pragmatism see Rescher 1-80.
For detailed arguments
that believing is not an action we can perform see Heal, Louzecky, Velleman, Practical
62-64 and 127-136, and Williams.