On lying, fibbing, tricking and kidding.

My four year-old son is learning the nuances of deceit. When he's caught claiming that he didn't eat that piece of candy you said he couldn't have he says he was "just joking." His deceptions have a straightforward purpose — to get something that he wants which would otherwise be denied him, or to avoid responsibility for something that would incur his parents' displeasure. Transparent and predictable, his lies seem to come with the territory of being human. He's learning about the commodity of untruth, and its cost.

One would think that by the time a person has grown to adulthood he or she has learned that obvious, easily uncovered untruths have little value and come at a high cost, especially when you live in the public eye.

Hillary Clinton, one can presume, must understand, abstractly at least, the high cost of silly lies. And yet she trots them out as if she were a four year-old. (I'm not exculpating Barack Obama, but his lies at least seem to be in keeping with his general philosophy and purpose, whereas Clinton's sometimes confound us with their preposterous posturing.) Claiming to George Stephanopolous, for instance, that her support for summer gas tax relief was something other than just political pandering insults the intelligence of those who would vote for her.

Recent research into the psychology of lying suggests that people lie to deceive others or to deceive themselves. This research also suggests that lying to deceive oneself has an aspirational quality — the student who inflates his grade point average aspires to that grade point average, and, more often than not, will get closer to it over time.

Very often politicians lie because they aspire to be right. They lie to defend a position because they believe in their ability to hold correct positions. Hillary Clinton desperately wants to believe that her aspiration to the presidency is legitimate. Beyond anything else, a victory would validate her sense of her right to be center stage — politically and personally. When someone fights so desperately to win, it gives us a window into what they feel they have to lose.

Philosophically, deceit is a simple concept — the presentation of untruth in place of truth. We can quibble about what we mean by truth, about whether anything can be completely objective, but this is hairsplitting. When a student says his grade point average is 3.7 when it is really 3.1 this is deceit.

And deceit isn't confined to humans. The natural world abounds with deceit. Animals camouflage, impersonate, dissemble, trick… all with the aim of staying alive or furthering their genes.

Early philosophers such as Socrates and Plato focused a great deal of attention on the mechanics of deception and the antidote of reason. They did this because they felt that too often people were deceived by illogic. Clear, unfettered truth was the primary battleground of their philosophy.

Amazingly, many hundreds of years later, despite great advances in so many fields, we still don't teach our children the fundamentals of logic and reason as a matter of course. Until today, until right now, I've thought that this was simply an oversight. But I wonder now whether the battle that Socrates started isn't still underway. Perhaps it's a battle of humanity for humanity.

Here we have highly educated people fibbing like four year-olds. In Socrates' day, the sophists were aware of their deceptions, and they succeeded because people wanted to believe them. Just so today, the Clintons of the world know that they're dissembling, but people want to believe them. We like rhetoric. We like to think that the world might be something other than what it is. Reality is hard. The truth is unsavory. Let's go for a drive…

For a rational, science-based explanation of life's meaning and purpose, please refer to my book: LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do To Survive.

On Barack Obama's elitism and George Bush's subversion of elitism.

Elitism (American Heritage Dictionary): "The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources."

It's interesting that the definition of elitism doesn't capture the idea of the criticism leveled at Barack Obama. Obama's not accused of believing that certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment, but that some people are less enlightened, less inclined to see things as they really are. Specifically, in now infamous remarks in San Francisco, he has implied that working-class voters cling to religion and the right to bear arms out of a displaced resentment of their economic plight.

It seems important to distinguish Obama's brand of elitism from the elitism that would favor the rights and privileges of a privileged group over those of the masses. One couldn't say that Obama sets the concerns of the smart or wealthy over those of the average American. Obama's elitism rests on the concept of "knowing better."

But hasn't Obama pursued political office and now higher office because he believes he has the insight, vision and personal resources to improve people's lives? Without wanting to split hairs, anyone who seeks to put himself into a position of authority or power for the right reasons must be, to some degree and in this sense, an elitist.

George Bush (son of a president, connected, wealthy, ivy league educated) subverts elitism by presenting himself as a common man, at one in his world-view with working class Americans (and we have been given no reason to doubt the presentation). His unsophisticated approach to leadership and analysis seems to win him adherents with those who want to see the world as a place of simple absolutes — good against evil, right and against wrong, oppression versus freedom, free market versus regulation.

Two urgent questions arise:

1. What makes someone elitist (in the sense of "knowing better")?

2. Do we went to be governed by an elitist or by someone who sees the world more concretely?

For conscious creatures, such as we are, the world has two distinct aspects — the concrete and the conceptual. Everyone understands and feels the weight of both aspects. But the degree to which we feel them differs from one person to another. Some people, such as Bush, tend to feel more comfortable with the physical, tangible aspect, and distrust concepts that require complex abstraction and sophisticated thinking. Other people (like Obama) tend to feel more comfortable and sure-footed with the conceptual aspect.

Plato and Aristotle may have approved of Obama's unfortunate remarks, but as much as us elitists might want to impose our concepts on others, leadership and government can't be successfully executed without an appreciation and respect for both. Too much of one or the other results in missteps.

Bush has screwed up because he's eschewed the sophisticated analysis needed to anticipate problems and develop nuanced solutions. Obama, it seems, if he's to be elected, will need to be careful to engage more with the tangibles of life and living, and, when necessary, keep his conceptual view of the world in perspective.

An elitist has the capacity to govern well if he or she can stay in touch with and not disdain or devalue the concrete aspects of life. A non-elitist can only govern well if he or she does not disdain or devalue the conceptual aspects of life. The flaws of a lop-sided approach to government have been only too clearly demonstrated over the past eight years.

On reconciling what we want to think with what logic dictates.

After reading the NY Times editorial on the Supreme Court's review of gun control laws, and thinking that I generally agreed with the board's perspective — that some manner of gun control was not only a good thing but constitutional, I glanced down at the readers' comments and began to question how I'd arrived at my conclusion. Most of the readers' comments seemed to oppose the board's analysis. Many of them seemed to have strong, rational views on why the NY Times editorial board was wrong. Had I perhaps sidestepped a thoughtful analysis of the issues? Do I really know where I stand on the effectiveness and desirability of gun control laws, or have I simply adopted a default, liberal stance?

And to mark the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq, President George Bush got back onto his soap box today at the Pentagon to argue against any precipitous move toward troop withdrawal. He warned that if America pulls its forces back too quickly, the result will be "chaos and carnage." Whereas, "chaos and carnage" would not be valid descriptors of what's been happening in Iraq for the past five years?

But I've long harbored the suspicion that my presumptive position that I would support a withdrawal of troops from Iraq has been founded on ideology, or, perhaps to be more precise, on an opposition to hawkish Republican ideology, rather than logic and reason.

In a nutshell, some things we believe because we want to believe them, not because we've thought them through. This is what ideology or partisan thinking is all about, I suppose.

It's a very appealing way to spilce the issues. It makes things so much easier. We pick an ideology that appeals to us and frame our thinking through that lens. It also seems to be a very common and perhaps inherently human thing to do.

Consciousness achieved evolutionary success because it allowed us to understand events and act accordingly through an abstract perception of the world around us. The very foundation of conscious thought is the manipulation of ideas. Ideas, by definition, simplify the infinite variations that occur in the real world by lumping things together into useful categories. If one were to measure the height, density and hue of cloud coverage and the time variation of precipitation, for instance, one would quickly conclude that no two rainy days are exactly alike. But the concept "rainy day" is sufficient to cover all of these variations and convey the idea of an abstract rainy day.

Abstract thought has been so successful as an evolutionary advantage that it's allowed us to find ways to survive in climates that would otherwise kill us, to eat and drink despite local droughts, and to realize such huge efficiencies through industrialization and mechanization that for the most part we don't have anything to do with the processes that shelter, feed and clothe us.

Ideology is a form of categorization. We lump together into a convenient bucket a whole set of related concepts about our philosophy on life or politics or whatever. And, even better, the bucket has a whole set of rules about what goes in there (sometimes these are a little vague or personal, but for the most part they're pretty solid). If we're a liberal, we oppose the war in Iraq, support some manner of gun control, abhor Repulican attempts to dismantle Roe vs. Wade, desire more government investment in healthcare… etc., etc.

Is this a bad thing?

It's neither an inherently bad thing, nor an inherently good thing. Since we categorize by virtue of our way of thinking, it can hardly be intrinsically bad. And since it leads to so much strife and anguish in the world it can hardly be wholly good.

As with so many things, the awareness that we do it, and being prepared to doubt ourselves when we do it, seems to be the important thing.

For more rational, science-based explanations of life's meaning and purpose, please refer to my book: LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do To Survive.

The New York Times Science section today summarizes a debate that's more than 2,000 years old: Can we say that the universe reflects fundamental laws? As its hook, the article highlights the thoughts of Dr. Paul Davies, a cosmologist at Arizona State, who brought the debate to a rolling boil recently by opining that science was, to some extent, a matter of faith.

Despite all of the hoopla and the plethora of theories on the subject, it seems to me that we can satisfy ourselves about the nature of the universe as follows:

First, we can restrict our field of inquiry to the universe that we live in. Sure, it's interesting to postulate what other universes may exist, but let's explain the one we live in first.

Second, we can say that the universe operates according to the principles of space and time. (This is a pragmatic statement of fact; what other principles would it operate in accordance with?)

And here's the most important part: Since principles are concepts, and since concepts don't exist in the concrete, but only in the abstract, the principles that govern space and time must exist outside space and time. Space and time don't create them, but must concur with them. (This leaves open the possibility that another universe may concur with other principles.)

I believe that this adequately addresses much of the uncertainty. (Quantum mechanics is simply another principle of space and time, perfectly maleable as an abstract concept, and nothing to get hung up on.)

With these founding ideas, we can make rapid and comprehensive progress in understanding our universe and our existence. (As I explain in my book.)

And when we read stories like the one from Detroit in which a seven year old girl was shot six times as she tried to shield her mother from an attack, or those from Iraq where the dire feuds between factions and attacks by insurgents continue to cause misery and mayhem, we realize that we yet have a lot to understand and address in our own universe without needing to go looking for others.

The unfolding hostage (just freed) and bomb threat at Hillary Clinton's New Hampshire campaign office provides a sobering example of the difference between rhetoric and reality. As an armed man stands off with a bomb strapped to his chest the sparring between campaign candidates doesn't seem the slightest bit important. Reality trumps rhetoric every time.

Critics of former mayor Rudy Giuliani have stepped up their attacks on his rhetorical device of bandying about mistated, inflated or exaggerated statistics to present his mayoral accomplishments in a brighter light. Here, it seems, rhetoric and reality combine to demonstrate that Giuliani, if elected, would prove to be a deceitful and egotistical leader. Something that by now we've surely had enough of.

Then there's the "outcry" in the Sudan over the thankfully relatively lenient sentence (15 days in jail versus six months and 40 lashes) meted out to Gillian Gibbons for allowing the children in her elementary class to name a teddy bear Muhammad. Sudanese demonstrators have called for Gibbons to be executed. But witnesses indicate that the protesters were supplemented  (or perhaps seeded) by government workers. And the outcry seems to provide convenient rhetoric for the Sudanese government as it tries to block Scandinavian peacekeepers from being sent to Darfur — this in response to last year's publication in Scandinavia of cartoons that depicted Muhammad and offended muslims.

And for all of the endless rhetoric about Iraq, when one reads some of the details of the violence there (as I've been doing in the New Yorker (Inside The Surge)) one realizes just how bloody and brutal and real the war is, and how divorced from those facts is the rhetoric.

The aim of rhetoric, when it has an aim, is to sway the listener or audience. The speaker uses rhetorical devices (such as emphasis, repetition, sarcasm, humor, logic or sophistry, the inducement of fear, omission, bullying, and charisma) to highlight his or her points, and to persuade the listener that his or her perspective has greater merit than any other. Unfortunately, the better the speaker the harder it becomes to differentiate a valid, worthy perspective from an invalid or fatuous perspective. And, given the established methods we employ to select the leaders of our regions, cities, states, and countries, rhetoric must remain for now an indispensible part of the process.

Rhetoric is employed so pervasively around the world that it's almost impossible to imagine processes of government and leadership without it. But perhaps that's because we're not trained to recognize and counter rhetoric. Plato's Socratic dialogs or their teachings should be required readings in schools. If we could learn to decode rhetoric and diminish its influence the world would be a better place.

Reality on the other hand often gets too little attention. It takes a lot of reality to impinge upon our consciousness. And all too often it's the sensational stuff that we focus on. In the past few days I've been struck by the number of high profile news stories that have focused on tragic disappearances and deaths for no other reason than there was something odd or grizzly or heartbreaking about them (the hoaxed teenager who killed herself, the missing teenager who'd been involved in porn, the couple who allegedly killed their two year old child, the ex-cop who may have killed his wives). I'm not saying that these tragedies aren't worth our attention, but should they occupy, relatively speaking, so much of our news-space? News serves two purposes — it delivers information of note and it keeps society apprised of things that we should care about and perhaps act upon. Of course, news media don't make the news, it's the consumers (us) who dictate our appetite for sensation to the savvy editors and pundits. What would it take to bring about a more enlightened media? A more enlightened public…

One can only hope that the armed hostage taker in New Hampshire is defused. I'd rather have more rhetoric than that kind of reality.

What is reason?

I've probably written about fifty posts already on this blog, but it occurred to me just yesterday that I have yet to write about "reason." Since the name of the blog is rationalphilosophy.net and since it's my stated goal to analyze subjects of interest from a rational perspective, I think I should correct the omission.

We can encapsulate the realm of reason as follows: Reason involves the logical manipulation of abstract concepts.

To unpack this: "Reason" itself is an abstract concept that describes a mental process. This mental process is what happens when we use logic to explore and analyze other abstract concepts. "Logic" is the consistent application of definitive rules (it's also an abstract concept).

So, when we take any set of defined rules and apply them consistently to analyze ideas, we are using reason.

Notice, we've said nothing about whether the rules reflect reality. Neither have we said anything about whether the ideas being analyzed reflect reality. Reason doesn't require real objects. But as we evolved the rational faculty we first apprehended reason through our interaction with the real world, because that's our primary and immediate point of reference. The real world also provides us with myriad situations that can be abstracted and anaylzed through reason. Reason is what we do to some extent and with varying degress of success day in day out just to stay alive.

When I was a boy I used to enjoy logic puzzles. Many of them conjured up odd worlds populated by fanciful tribes (one springs to mind about three different groups that sometimes, always or never told the truth). After setting out the rules of the imaginary world and posing a problem, the puzzles left the puzzler to figure out a rational solution. The unspoken dictat being that if the puzzler applied logic, he would find a definite solution.

In real life, we often find ourselves presented with problems or challenges for which no definite solution exists. Either the set of concepts is incomplete or the rule set to be applied isn't definitive.

Here are some examples from current news stories:

Credit available to US business apparently shrank by an unprecedented 9% since August, perhaps pressaging a recession. The story and the information set reveal that it is impossible to deduce rationally whether the credit shrink indicates that a recession is nigh. The history that connects previous credit shrinks to recessions hasn't established a definitive causal link, the circumstances surrounding the current credit shrink are unique, and the actions that people and institutions will take in response to the credit shrink are undetermined. But rationally we can say that we have cause to be concerned about a recession given the news about a credit shrink.

After the latest round of middle-east peace talks ended with a commitment from both sides to work toward peace in '08 and a two state status quo, Ehud Olmert is quoted as saying: "If the two-state solution collapses, and we face a South African-style struggle for equal voting rights, then the State of Israel is finished." Olmert asserts this as rational fact, but he is inferring a future event by comparison to a similar set of circumstances. He is probably correct to draw the comparison, and he may be making a reasonable guess about the outcome, but the categorical tenor of his statement leans on emotion rather than logic.

Bill Clinton this week said that he opposed the Iraq war from the start. Records of his statements at the time indicate that he spoke in favor of completing WMD inspections rather than rushing to war. Clinton recalls that he didn't speak out more plainly because it would have been inappropriate for a former president to question the military decisions of an acting president. Clinton could be recalling correctly and his statement may be true. Or he may be deliberately mistating his former position on the war in which case his statement would be false. But he may also be mistaken in his recollection, in which case his statement would be false in fact, but true in its own internal logic (derived from his faulty recollection). We cannot know which is the case unless Clinton kept some kind of definitive record of his true position on the war at the time.

The elusiveness of definitive information and fully understood conditions means that when it comes to real life we're often working with approximations and likelihoods. We don't know that something will happen (like a recession) but we try to deduce the likelihood and weigh the risks or benefits of certain actions in the face of this likelihood. This, I believe, leads to a very common mistake. When we're faced with incomplete information, we often replace questions of "what is likely" with "what is possible."

A striking example of this is religious belief. Religious belief is a matter of faith. We don't have enough information to draw a rational conclusion about whether a god or supreme being exists or doesn't exist. When many people argue about religion, they invert this logic to say that we don't have enough information to draw the rational conclusion that a god or supreme being doesn't exist. That's true, but just because the two statements are true doesn't mean that they infer the same likelihood of god's existence.

Let's put it this way: If I claim that a large frog lives on the far side of the moon, you cannot prove that I am wrong, but you can demonstrate with a very high degree of likelihood that I am wrong. I can also say that can't prove that the frog doesn't exist, and while this is true, I can't demonstrate it with the same high degree of likelihood.

After a simple review of the world's greatest conflicts we quickly determine that they are not caused by insolubly complex problems but by the refusal of people to engage in thoughtful, rational debate and problem-solving.

'They just shoot at anything and everybody,' says one of the interviewees in a CNN story today on chronic youth violence in parts of Philadelphia.

Responding to Al Gore's receipt of the Nobel Peace Prize, Rob Edwards of Woodbridge, Connecticut is reported as saying: "It is a sad world in which we live when bad science (and even a lack of any data at all on many points) leads to so much hype or accolades, especially the award of the Nobel Peace Prize. The IPCC is a farce. View the CBC documentary from 2005, which is backed up by clear and reproducible science, to understand how wrong the IPCC and Al Gore actually are." (Which prompted me to go look up the CBC documentary.)

And on logic matters today (a philosophy blog,) a post questioning whether there "isn't something inelegant about stocking up on assignments of objects to variables only not to use infinitely many of them?" I couldn't understand a word of it. I don't mean to pick on this post; I wouldn't understand most of them, I'm sure.

Which brings me to the question of what is reality, and whether philosophy can help us answer it. If we live in a world where kids shoot each other mindlessly, what use is the study of model theory? And if Al Gore's receipt of the Nobel Peace Prize raises a scornful response from many quarters, some of them apparently well meant and well informed, are we to trust our understanding of the world around us, or the understanding of others?

Our perception of reality itself of course is somewhat of an illusion. We see and feel and hear things because we have evolved to see and hear and feel them in that way. Our eyes respond to a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, our ears to a narrow portion of the frequency spectrum. Things are solid for us because we perceive them at as solid, but at the smallest perspective, subatomic particles are smears of energy spread out relatively huge distances. Smaller particles can just go whizzing through us.

Reality is perception. Consistency in that perception can reassure us of consistency in the world around us. Logic can help us build models that may or may not prove reliable. And progress can only be measured with hindsight.

Where does that leave us?

President Bush today in referring to his desire to meet with the Dalai Lama says that he hopes that China will one day see the Dalai Lama as a spiritual leader and someone who wants peace.

I guess that could just about sum up the mind-boggling futility in seeking out logical consistency in the world around us… But then I think about Plato. Plato said: "It is only the dead who have seen the end of war." And this kind of philosophy seems to give us courage and a reason to continue to think.

The New York Times article today on Secret U.S. Endorsement of Severe Interrogations is both appalling and fascinating in its thorough exposure of the administration's dogged efforts to encourage and enable the CIA to use a wide range and combination of brutal interrogation techniques without having to worry about their legality. But beyond the pertinent questions of what constitutes torture and in what ways the administration blurred the line between branches of government, and, once again, abused its executive power, I was struck by the universal themes of courage and cowardice that sprang out of the circumstances of the story.

The Times reports on a White House meeting involving James Comey, deputy attorney general: "Mr. Comey stated that “no lawyer” would endorse Mr. Yoo’s justification for the N.S.A. program, Mr. Addington demurred, saying he was a lawyer and found it convincing. Mr. Comey shot back: “No good lawyer,” according to someone present."

Sitting at home reading the newspaper or watching events on TV it's easy to regard the administration as laughable and not worthy of respect. But to be in its midst, as Comey was, surrounded by powerful supporters of the White House, with your job on the line, his boldness took real courage.

The Times also reports that within the circle of unswervingly loyal Bush insiders "there was a sense that Comey was a wimp" on national security matters.

I'm reminded of Plato's Socratic dialogues. In criticizing Comey's moral stance, the administration defines a specific instance of "courage" as the ability to follow through on severe methods of interrogation in order to get valuable information. Socrates would never let them get away with that kind of rhetorical sleight of hand.

It's notable that at no point in the several years that this story has been unfolding has the administration appeared to betray any compunction about using severe interrogation methods. This may be an extreme thing to say, but one gets the impression that the administration does not view the detainees as human or deserving of human rights, and, therefore, feels that torturing the detainees couldn't possibly be inhuman.

And perhaps this is their true perspective. It would explain a great deal.

Let's suppose for a moment that some within the administration don't feel that the detainees retain any human rights; that any form of torture is justified if it achieves results. Is this a form of cowardice? Is it courageous?

Courage and cowardice are concepts. They have meaning only as formulated through mental processes. A tree is not courageous because it holds fast against the wind (unless it appears in a poem, at which point it becomes a conceptual tree).

The concept of courage is directly opposed to the concept of cowardice. And the concept of courage has as its root two other concepts — fear or an awareness of risk, and strength — holding one's course despite the fear. Fear is a direct emotional response to a situation of real or perceived danger. Strength or resistence to fear is a result of our conscious faculty, holding back our natural urge to give in to the fear, the power of the conscious mind to control our more immediate fight or flight responses.

Cowardice, in contrast, arises from the concepts of fear and capitulation. We feel fear, we are aware that we do not want to or should not give in to the fear, yet we give in to it anyway.

Going back to my working premise that maybe some in the administration don't view the detainees as deserving of human rights. If this is correct, then to condone and enable torture of the detainees requires no courage on their part. But neither is it, in itself, cowardly. (Since they are not, in holding this stance, capiltulating to any fear; they feel no fear of the consequences of this approach.)

However, at the risk of extending my conjecture too far, the perspective I'm presuming exists in Cheney and others itself rests on cowardice. — Whenever we decide on a course of action and act, we risk error. If we don't recognize the possibility for error, it is because we are afraid we will have to admit our failure. Refusing to admit failure, of course, is a hallmark of the current administration. This then, is cowardice at a deeper level.

To build this logic back up: The White House chooses to pursue a policy of severe interrogation that denies the detainees their human rights. The White House refuses to accept that this premise and the course of action being followed may be wrong. In refusing to accept that it may be wrong, the White House acts out of cowardice.

Others in the story betray a more simple and obvious form of cowardice: Gonzalez and Yoo, for instance, who defend the administration's tactics for their own ends, to please their masters, or just so they don't have to say 'no.'

Two New York Times stories today got me thinking again about the immaturity of nations.Monks March in Protest in Myanmar - "On Tuesday, when 1,000 monks demonstrated in several cities, security officials reportedly used tear gas and fired warning shots to disperse monks in Sittwe, west of Yangon. According to reports received by exile groups in Thailand, some monks were beaten and arrested."

Calls for Belgium Break-up - "We are two different nations, an artificial state created as a buffer between big powers, and we have nothing in common except a king, chocolate and beer." - FILIP DEWINTER, the leader of a right-wing Flemish party, on Belgium's ethnic tensions.

My son just started pre-school. He's in the threes program but his classroom also has four and five year olds. As the classroom teacher explained it, this helps the children learn to care about and take care of the younger children in the class. By the time the threes become fours and fives they've learned how to care for their classmates.

By contrast then the government of nations must be in its infancy. Governments act so frequently liked petulant, misbehaving children. To what end do the misdeeds of the military junta in Myanmar serve the people of Myanmar? When party leaders fuel ethnic divisiveneness in Belgium does it really serve the people of Belgium and the region? And, closer to home, the present administration's habit of lying to and concealing from the American people its true objectives, motives and methods has surely set back faith in this country and the American democtratic system by many years.

I'm wondering why, philosophically, it would be that elected leaders collectively and regularly act with such immaturity. It would be good for us to figure this out and start moving toward a better place. If countries could learn to act more maturely how much suffering could be avoided?

It would be easy to say that things have improved over time, that there is more global leadership maturity now than there was a hundred or a thousand years ago, and this may be true, but it isn't dramatically and emphatically true. Today's governments and the countries they represent have it in their power (and do) inflict far greater harm on one another than was inflicted hundreds of years ago.

My theory is this: Nations, the people in them and those who lead them, don't agree in themselves nor between themselves on their goals, their intentions and their perspective on global society. We have no conceptual grounding for good government and international relations.

Society is immature because the foundational principles of society aren't understood and converted into best practices. As societies we act emotionally, irrationally, out of fear and pride and avarice. A sovereign nation is the three year old who holds onto a toy because letting another child play with it, even for a moment, even when it belongs to her, is inconceivable.

On a smaller more intimate scale societies can often function well. Codes of practice are well understood and can be easily reinforced, but more importantly the codes of practice can be clearly tied back to what is rationally in the best interests of the group. The same applies to the better organized, more rational governments of the world, where there has been a great effort to balance the good of all with the good of the individual.

A society that does not seek to balance the good of the individual with the good of the group, a society that permits discrimination, or that allows its government to pursue nationalistic or selfish ends, is illfounded and irrational. Human existence can only persist if we recognize that we all belong to human society, and that ultimately we must work to contribute positively to human society, putting aside our apparent differences.

Plato proposed "philosophers [must] become kings…or those now called kings [must]…genuinely and adequately philosophize" (The Republic, 473c). And when one looks at the numbskulls and charlatans running many of the world's nations, it seems self-evident that a good dose of reflection and philosophy would serve society well. Or perhaps a few days in a threes program…

Postscript (September 23, 2007):

Since writing this post I've tried to imagine George W. Bush engaging in serious self-reflection and philosophical study. Not an easy picture to conjure up. For our leaders to be capable of the serious application of rational principles, we need to reflect upon, consider and apply the same rational principles when we elect them.

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it."

(Hindu Prince Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)

If we reject received ideas and observe and analyze the world around us we gain insight that reflects the only truth we have — our own impressions. This doesn't mean we should ignore everyone else, our mental and emotional reactions can provide valuable impressions, too. But we should not simply accept without first deciding whether we can reasonably agree.

We can be skeptical about our impressions, too. We can logically conclude that none of our impressions are reliable, that we can't be sure that the world exists. But, as Schopenhauer concluded (in The World as Will and Representation), what do we gain by such a conclusion? What do we have to gain from saying that we can't believe in anything? This conclusion leads us to a dead end.

If we accept that our impressions are indeed impressions, that they are, for the most part, not fictions, then we have a place to work from. We can begin to analyze which of our impressions seem more reliable, more complete, more reasonable. We can discuss our impressions with others and find out whether they share the same impressions. We can form hypotheses based on our impressions and see whether we can validate these hypotheses. When we accept an impression as an impression, a whole world of potential understanding opens up.

With his theory of forms or Ideas Plato recognized that in order to hypothesize and analyze we use abstract concepts. Whenever we think about something in general terms (chairs as opposed to "this chair I'm sitting on") we use abstract concepts. (As I think about this, as I have before, I conclude that consciousness is the ability to manipulate abstract concepts.) So what are the forms or concepts that shape our existence?

This question has nagged at people for thousands of years. But given what we know about the world (through observation and analysis) we can now set out the answer!

It's important to go back to Schopenhauer. Schopenhauer's philosophy made great strides in identifying the principles or abstract concepts through which we can understand our existence. He recognized that our impressions of existence come to us through what he called a "fourfold root." The fourfold root was the three dimensions of space and time (or causality).

All of our impressions concur with the idea that space has three dimensions and that things exist through time governed by the principle of cause and effect.

What Schopenhauer didn't understand (because not enough was known at the time of the way that the universe evolves over time) was that the earth and heaves weren't a fixed and static thing, that our existence follows after a whole long stream of prior events. We now know a great deal about that string of events. We can see back in time by looking out into space, and by digging through the layers of earth beneath our feet. We have a great deal of insight into the evolution of the universe.

This insight into the evolution of the universe adds to Schopenhauer's principles. It tells us that existence isn't static. That the matter in the universe consists of energy. And that energy changes from one form to another.

So what is the principle by which the evolution of existence has lead to our existence? As I describe in my book, the principle is one of persistence: The more likely a form is to persist, the more likely it is to remain in existence.

This applies to the persistence of fundamental particles, cosmological systems, molecules, and life.