Convergence, Truth, and History
Convergence, Truth, and History
We tend to converge on the truth. Independent investigators often arrive at the same truth because it is the truth. If investigators are not independent, their coinciding beliefs may well be explained by influence not truth: they have the same beliefs because of interpersonal contact. Convergence of belief in independent investigators is apt to be a sign of truth because otherwise it would be a coincidence. The probability of truth rises with the number of independent investigators agreeing in their beliefs. Not so with dependent investigators: influence can easily explain agreement. There is agreement by way of objective truth and agreement by way of personal influence. If only one person arrives at a given belief, that doesn’t bode well for truth, no matter how much influence he or she may have. Belief by influence is no guarantee of truth; belief under conditions of independence is an indicator of truth—not infallible, but highly suggestive. Convergence goes with fact; lack of convergence goes with fiction, even if there is agreement by influence. This is the difference between a cult and a learned society—whether there is agreement under conditions of independence.
There is an analogue in evolutionary biology: convergent evolution versus inheritance. Some traits evolve multiple times quite independently; there is no inheritance relation between the animals sharing the trait—for example, locomotion and vision. Other traits evolve just once and are then passed on; these tend not to be so widespread—eye color, nose shape. Convergent traits tend to be good traits to have—that’s why they evolve separately. Inherited traits may or may not be good—sometimes they just hang around because they come with the territory. Convergent evolution is a sign of adaptive quality: eyesight would not evolve multiple times if it were not useful, indeed essential. A trait is objectively beneficial or it is not—but if not, it could still be widespread because of inheritance. Eyes are good things to have, but vestigial hairy skin may not be.
This distinction applies to the history of human thought: we have people independently discovering the same thing and people agreeing by virtue of influence. When people come to the same view independently, we tend to suppose that the view in question is likely to be true; when they do so by influence, we think this is less likely (though possible). If millions of people independently arrive at the opinion that the Eiffel tower is tall, we think this is because it is tall; but if the members of a religious cult all have the same opinion, under conditions of influence, we don’t jump to the conclusion that it must be true. This is obvious and uncontroversial. But if we apply it to the actual history of human thought, we notice some interesting facts. On the one hand, there are many instances of convergence: in physics, astronomy, chemistry, biology, and even philosophy. I won’t rehearse all of this, except to remind you of Descartes, Galileo, and Newton in physics and Darwin and Wallace in biology. The same truths were independently discovered, thus adding credence to these discoveries; it wasn’t just a solitary individual who magically hit upon the truth by unrepeatable genius. In philosophy Russell and Moore converged in their opposition to Hegel, as Russell and Frege converged in their logicism. But in certain cases, this was not so—we had the phenomenon of the solitary genius who exercised massive influence. No one else had the same ideas, such was their singular genius—though they had their followers, disciples, and acolytes. Three such thinkers stand out in recent times: Freud, Einstein, and Wittgenstein. Singlehandedly, they revolutionized their subject—they alone arrived at the truth about their respective domains of interest (allegedly: see below). No one else came close: there was no Wallace lurking in the wings. Hence, they are regarded as true geniuses, as less gifted thinkers are not (including Russell and Frege). There was no convergence only influence: many people accepted their theories, though no one else came up with them independently. In this they exceeded their intellectual predecessors, such as those listed above. They saw farther than any other man. But shouldn’t this make us suspicious? How come only they had the brain power to make the discoveries they made? Other people came to accept their theories, but no one else anticipated them, came up with them on their own. Hmmm. What made them stand apart from the rest of the human race? How come the truth spoke only to them? Plenty of other people had their level of intelligence and yet did not happen upon the truths they revealed. That is what we have been encouraged to believe—the story of the lone but influential genius.
The trouble is that their theories (two of them anyway) are now discredited, to one degree or another. Here I have to put my cards on the table: I don’t think any of them spoke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That’s why there was no independent convergence. If they were onto the truth, someone else wouldhave been too; but no one else was, so they were not onto the truth. They may have been onto some truths, but the main body of their work was not true. This is why there is something cultlike about their following: it relies on influence not independent discovery. I think that Freudian psychoanalysis is mainly false or highly dubious, as do many others; the same is true of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus and Investigations; and many have been skeptical of Einstein’s special and general theories of relativity. My aim here is not to defend these opinions (controversial as they are), but merely to point out that the theories in question do not have the support provided by convergent discovery. It isn’t as if other people quite independently came to the same conclusions, which you might expect if those conclusions were true; rather, they were propounded by one man and gained traction and influence. It is notable that they are not easy to grasp (unlike the theory of evolution by natural selection): they feel obscure and arcane, rather startling, contrary to common sense. You are expected to take them on trust, though bits of evidence are dutifully provided. They are creeds, dogmas, pronouncements. Thus, a cult surrounds their progenitors—they are seen as sacred figures. Their images appear on T shirts. We can’t hope to understand them in their full profundity. Wittgenstein, indeed, inspired twocultlike followings. I could say much the same about certain proponents of quantum theory residing in Copenhagen, as well as certain philosophers. Did anyone else ever come up with Quine’s distinctive doctrines, or David Lewis’s? No, they were singular figures: the indeterminacy of translation, possible worlds realism. Both doctrines elicited “incredulous stares” (as Lewis famously remarked)–that is, no one else thought one day, “You know, meaning is a myth” or “Actually, actuality is no more real than non-actuality”. We don’t find independent thinkers happily converging on these startling conclusions; indeed, Quine and Lewis were virtually alone in confidently propounding them. Nor did colleagues say to themselves, upon hearing these doctrines, “Good heavens, he’s right, I see it now!”. It wasn’t like Darwin, Wallace, and their scientific followers (Huxley, Haldane). In these cases, we don’t have the comfort of convergence; instead, we have an instance of influence emanating from a single source.
We can ask our question about other areas of human life: ethics, politics, art, music, clothes, religion, literature. When do we have convergence and when do we have influence? Is utilitarianism something that ethicists independently converge on or is it a matter of influence? I would say we have a good deal of convergence, combined with some degree of influence. Isn’t this something that people are likely to converge on, given its evident correctness (at least as a large part of morality)? Democracy in politics is the same—it’s obviously a pretty sound idea that any reflective person could come up with. Art and music are different: here there is no obvious truth for them to converge on—they are more a matter of free creation. The idea of the solitary artistic or musical genius is not merely a piece of airy romanticism (though influence also plays a role). Clothes are a mixed bag, being both practical and aesthetic: trousers, convergence; flared trousers, influence. Utility and fashion operate by different rules. Religions may converge from different places onto the same core ideas—a divine being or beings, priests, collective worship—but they may also propagate by causal influence. The former are more likely to be solidly based than the latter, being more reflective of general human nature. In the case of literature, influence will dominate, but literary forms may be independently arrived at in virtue of their inherent properties (the novel form is clearly good for telling long involved stories). None of these cases will be simple and straightforward, and it may be difficult to discern what is what, but the distinction holds in these areas too. The more objective and universal something is the more likely it will be independently converged upon; the more limited and local the more subject to influence. Memes are more local than facts of nature. Independent convergence will be a sign of veracity or lasting value, though not an infallible sign.
The general drift of these reflections is to throw cold water on the idea of the solitary singular genius, especially in scientific pursuits, including philosophy. If something is true, it is going to be discovered by several individuals, as has frequently happened in the history of human thought. In cases in which someone is hailed as a solitary genius, singlehandedly producing a new idea, we should be on the lookout for error; people just don’t differ that greatly intellectually (Einstein’s IQ was not higher than that of other physicists). When an idea’s time is ripe, it is likely that several minds will latch onto it; if only one mind does, we are likely to be in the land of creative fiction. It may be genius, but it is not true genius.[1]
[1] One might formulate a law of discovery: All true ideas are independently discoverable. No truth is such that only this individual could discover it. If Freud were right, he would have rivals in discovery—in other parts of the world, on other planets. If Wittgenstein were right, there would be a twin Wittgenstein somewhere saying the same thing. If we are resistant to these possibilities, that can only be because we sense they were not right. Darwin is not essential to Darwinism, but Freud strikes us as essential to Freudianism; and Wittgenstein to the doctrines of the Tractatus and Investigations—as no one but James Joyce could have written Ulysses. Berkeley is an interesting case: why does he have no co-discoverers? Would someone else have come up with the same ideas eventually? Is his work really a work of fiction? It does seem like an inherently singular vision. Could anyone else have arrived at the achievements of Shakespeare? By contrast, scientific truth always admits of independent discovery by a plurality of individuals. If Einstein had never lived, would someone else have come up with his theories? I rather doubt it.
What did Berkeley discover? His idealism is a theory of reality that cannot be proved or disproved. Is it a discovery?
He discovered a theory, whether true or false. It is quite wrong to say it can neither be proved nor disproved, unless you mean that no theory can be proved or disproved. There are arguments for the theory that may be evaluated, and also arguments against it. It’s like all of philosophy, and much of science.
I was a Freudian as a child. Some of his ideas were entirely novel; such as his dream theory. No one else except him at his time and place would have imagined his dream theory. But his idea of the unconscious he wrote was intuited by fiction writers and intellectuals before him. Other of his ideas make sense, maybe they weren’t as profounc; such as defense mechanisms, which can be extracted from his particular theory as well as the emphasis on inner conflict. True, ideas such as his dream theory and the idea of all behavior as being overdetermined are a bit wild; Still, he has left a real, albeit lesser legacy.
What do you mean by his dream theory? Surely people before Freud knew that dreams can reveal unconscious wishes; if you dream that you are trying to kill someone, it’s safe to assume that you are angry at that person, even if you are not consciously aware of it.
So what is his dream theory? Nonsense such as that all dreams are wish-fulfillments? That they all reflect childhood sexuality? It has been years since I’ve read Freud, but I recently read Joseph Wortis’s “Fragments of an Analysis with Freud.” He quotes Freud as follows:
“A dream of sitting in a theatre always means watching coitus.”
“The drawing of a sword from its sheath is a symbol for the sex act, even though the sword is being withdrawn, since dreams often show the opposite of what they mean.”
Amazing that people accepted such stuff for so long.
I’m far from a great philosopher or a philosopher at all. I do think you’re working backwards, You’re concluding that Freud fits your theory that all ideas that are made by one individual like Freud’s a re clearly wrong because truth is something that should be obvious to rational minds.
First, Freud’s initial discoveries were shared by his collaborator Breuer and more to the point, some of his ideas were lasting and others still stimulated discovery. Someone unbiased like myself, who has reason to dislike Freud has to admit that Freud got a few things right.
These things may have happened anyway such as Beck’s and Ellis’s discovery of CBT and the idea of unconscious thoughts- and if you say it is obvious to you that there are no such thing, I would have a ready answer, several in fact.
I would further say that even if some of Freud’s theories were misguided, he understood people, from the pragmatic standpoint of getting along with people or even making friends and influencing people is concerned. He was a natural psychologist and he was remarkably well read.
Tell me what’s wrong with the idea of unconscious thoughts and defense mechanisms- people often don’t know their own motivations, Freud just developed that idea further through defense mechanisms.
I admit he might not gibe with your theories of mind, but everybody believes their own theories, including you and Freud.
You are completely wrong, I’m afraid. Several ideas associated with Freud were invented by others, such as the unconscious and projection. The question is whether any of the theories distinctive of Freud were correct, particularly his theories of sexuality in the child. Very few, if any, reputable child psychologists accept these theories; there is just no evidence for them. Similarly, his theories of dreams.
Freud didn’t discover anything. He made stuff up. He reported that his early patients had virtually all been sexually abused as children, and he concluded that neuroses were caused by childhood sexual abuse. He called this the “seduction theory,” although the “molestation theory” would have been a better name.
Then he decided that so many of his patients couldn’t have been abused. They must have imagined it because of their unconscious desires. He abandoned the seduction theory and replaced it with the Oedipus complex, concluding that neuroses were caused by an unconscious sexual desire for the parent of the opposite sex and a desire to kill the parent of the same sex.
Freud’s letters subsequently revealed that his patients had never reported abuse. Freud had invented the theory that neuroses were caused by childhood sexual abuse, and, since his patients were neurotic, it followed for him that they must have been abused. He told them that they’d been abused, and they denied it. Their denial proved to Freud that they had been abused. Here’s an article on the subject:
https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0957154X9300401302?icid=int.sj-abstract.similar-articles.4
All correct–this is now well-known. Freud made things up to suit his theories and there is no evidence for them.
Although I don’t believe that Freud discovered anything, I do believe that he made an important contribution. He made commonplace the insight of others that our behavior is often motivated by unconscious feelings. (I use “unconscious” only as an adjective, not as a noun. No “unconscious,” presumably somewhere in the brain, is known to exist.) Although people before Freud knew of unconscious motivations, before Freud I don’t think that they routinely examined their slips or dreams in search of them.
Also correct, but we should note that the repression theory of the unconscious is very dubious. I wrote about this in the New York Review of Books many years ago.
I assume you refer to “Freud Under Analysis” in The New York Review of Books of November 4, 1999, which was followed by an exchange of letters in the February 24, 2000 issue. “Freud Under Analysis” opens by mentioning a Freud exhibition at the Library of Congress. I was involved with the late Peter J. Swales in his successful effort to get the Library to make the exhibition less biased in favor of Freud. A brief summary of that matter, with sources cited, is at the Wikipedia article on “Peter Swales (historian).”
I do. I didn’t know Peter was dead. I didn’t know him well, but a bit.
Three years ago this month. See the Wikipedia article. A collection of some of his papers should be published in the not-too-distant future.
The Oedipus complex?
In my April 1, 11 a.m. comment, I suggested an important contribution Freud made, despite the fact that he didn’t discover anything. Philosopher and Freud critic Frank Cioffi, who died in 2012, noted a different contribution of Freud’s:
“Freud has had an enormously beneficial influence, a liberating influence, on twentieth-century culture. For example, we were able to use completely bogus arguments about the baleful effects of sexual repression to get people to ease up, not be so censorious, about other people’s sexual lives. That’s a great plus. It’s a pity that they had to use a phony theory of the neuroses to accomplish this end, but this end is a desirable one nonetheless.”
–Todd Dufresne, AGAINST FREUD CRITICS TALK BACK, p. 96.
There should be a colon in the title I just cited: AGAINST FREUD: CRITICS TALK BACK. It’s a book of interviews with critics of Freud.
I quite agree: Freud’s legacy is the sexual liberation of the 1960s simply because he talked about sex scientifically not religiously.
I think the word is “pseudoscientifically.”
No doubt, but even pseudoscience can be clinical-sounding.
One of the ideas that Freud was applauded for was that repression is a bad thing, especially sexual repression. But that is not obviously correct: many desires should be repressed.