American writer Robert Nathan
died on this day in 1985. He wrote:
"Give
exceeding thanks for the mystery which remains a mystery still—the veil that
hides you from the infinite, which makes it possible for you to believe in what
you cannot see."
T. M. Luhrmann is a professor
of anthropology at Stanford and a frequent contributor to the New York Times’ op-ed pages. In one of her columns, a copy of which I saved, she goes to elaborate
lengths to explain how even intelligent people tend to sometimes sidestep the
facts in favor of their beliefs.
She says that quite a few
scholars are proceeding from the notion that religious belief, for example, and
factual belief are, in her words, “different kinds of mental creatures.” These
pointy-heads say that people process information differently when they think
with a religious mindset rather than with a factual mindset, and that they may
even consider the information itself differently. Thus, they are motivated to
act differently.
Luhrmann begins digging herself
a hole when she says that people use different language when talking about
religion. Say the subject is Jesus: When people say “I believe Jesus is alive,”
they do so knowing that other people may not think so. Their statement asserts
their piety. It is a different type of statement—a whole different class of
statement, Luhrmann says—from all other statements, which presume certain
unassailable facts. You would never say “My dog is alive,” because its
existence is a fact; you would only make statements with that fact as an
assumption, such as “My dog is short-tempered”—that you own a dog is a given.
Luhrmann says this means that people think differently about the realness of
their dog and the realness of Jesus, and she chalks this up to different
“cognitive attitudes.”
Besides all the obvious
objections and qualifications we could make to this, after all it’s only a
roundabout way of saying that people talk differently about what is really real
and what seems real to them.
Luhrmann then says that the
scholars have noted that when people consider the truth of a religious belief,
often what the belief does for them matters more than the facts. “We evaluate
religious belief more with our sense of destiny, purpose, and the way we think
the world should be,” she writes.
I believe that outside of
cultural anthropology this is known as “wishful thinking.”
Luhrmann says that beliefs and
facts play different roles in interpreting the same events—“Religious beliefs
explain why, rather than how.” She tells the story, with a touch of smugness,
of a woman who had been cured of tuberculosis by taking medicine who told her
noted doctor that she was going to get revenge on the person who’d used sorcery
to make her ill. The doc asked her why, if she believed that, she had taken her
medicine.
“In response to the great
doctor,” Luhrmann crows, “she replied, in essence, ‘Honey, are you incapable of
complexity?’”
Maybe he was incapable of
superstition.
Finally, Luhrmann says that
scholars have concluded that people don’t use rational reasoning when they rely
on their religious beliefs, and that such beliefs may even have different
“neural signatures” in the brain. (In un-scholarly language: People seem to
shut off part of their minds when they discuss their beliefs.)
Luhrmann says all this to say
that we should take into consideration the bases of people’s religious beliefs
when we talk—or negotiate—with them. “People aren’t dumb in not recognizing the
facts,” she writes. “They are using a reasoning process that responds to moral
arguments more than scientific ones, and we should understand that when we
engage.”
In other words, we have to be
nice and overlook their willful ignorance.
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