Abstract
In this article I explore the social, pragmatic, ecological contexts within which reasoning occurs, and without which it cannot function properly. A diverse set of perspectives are used to guide this exploration: (a) pragmatic critiques of studies showing failures to reason logically, (b) theoretical claims that reasoning is fundamentally social and argumentative, (c) a values-realizing account of resistance and truthfulness in social reasoning dilemmas, and (d) arguments related to the nature of rationality and resistance to scientific claims. Implications emerging from the integration of these sources point to improved prospects for a more ecological, values-realizing approach to theory, method, and application with respect to reasoning.
Two very different sorts of worries about reasoning have recently surfaced. First, there has been considerable consternation among scientists and other academics about what some have called knowledge resistance (Larhammar, 2017), and others have referred to as denialism or science skepticism (e.g., Kalichman, 2014; Lewandowsky & Oberauer, 2016). Second, there have been suggestions that a certain sense of exhaustion and doubt has settled on the experimental study of reasoning (Lieder & Griffiths, 2019; Mercier & Sperber, 2017). However, such challenges sometimes create opportunities. Making use of a diverse array of resources—pragmatic critiques of research showing violations of rational norms, argumentative dialogue accounts of reasoning, values-realizing accounts of social reasoning, and other reflections on resistance and rationality—I will explore the possibility of developing a more social, ecological, values-realizing account of reasoning.
The focus will be on the larger pragmatic context—physical, social, and moral—within which people engage in reasoning and thinking. This is in sharp contrast to the context that Descartes (1637/2001) adopted in his famous search for epistemological certainty 400 years ago. Having entered a room alone in 1619, he sat down, shut his eyes and stopped his ears, and searched for some sense of knowing that was beyond all doubt. One of the intriguing aspects of this isolation experiment was his convincing himself that individuals were superior in their thinking compared to groups: an essential aspect of clear thinking was to resist the knowledge claims of others. Was Descartes right in his trust in individual cognition? How well does it fit with the picture drawn by social scientists over the past few decades that highlights heuristics and biases (Gilovich, Griffin, & Kahneman, 2002)? Answering such questions reveals a number of surprises.
Social reasoning: Resistance, conformity, and ignorance
Many scientists and academics are alarmed by those who doubt global warming, refuse to vaccinate their children, believe GMO foods are dangerous, or refuse to see a causal connection between HIV and AIDS (e.g., Gorman & Gorman, 2017; Kalichman, 2014; Lewandowsky, Gignac, & Oberauer, 2013). When there is a strong consensus among knowledgeable observers, it seems obvious that people should acknowledge their factual claims. Nevertheless, sometimes it makes sense to resist. Consider the young Australian internist who came to believe that ulcers were bacterial infections, rather than a byproduct of excess acid caused by stress. He quickly learned, when he tried to share his hypothesis, that, “To gastroenterologists, the concept of a germ causing ulcers was like saying that the Earth is flat” (Weintraub, 2010, p. 2). Finally, in desperation he infected himself with Helicobacter pylori, then cured himself with antibiotics. For his resistance, Barry Marshall won a Nobel prize.
A less dramatic example of resistance is found in Asch’s (1956) famous experiments on social influence. Participants answered simple questions about relative lengths of lines, but 12 times out of 18, several other people looking at the same lines stated their answers first, giving the same wrong answer. Thus, participants faced a social reasoning dilemma: Should they agree with a knowledgeable consensus, or dissent and give their own view? Results revealed that people dissented from others’ incorrect answers far more than they agreed with them, two thirds of the time when the majority was unanimous. Over 70% of participants dissented most (or all) of the time, and the median participant dissented 9 times and agreed with wrong answers 3 times (Hodges & Geyer, 2006). These are stunning results: everyone else in a position to know is mistaken or lying, and yet people overwhelmingly resisted, saying the truth of what they saw. The irony is that textbooks describe the studies as powerful examples of conformity, and virtually all commentators on Asch’s results have worked only to explain why people would agree with wrong answers (Friend, Rafferty, & Bramel, 1990). Dissent and truth-telling have been treated as if they were banal and trivial (Hodges, 2017).
Consider another related dilemma: What do individuals do when they are invited to speak from ignorance, while talking with others who know more about the topic than they do? Hodges, Meagher, Norton, McBain, and Sroubek (2014) explored this question by placing people in different positions relative to a screen so that two people (A & B) could see information clearly, and one (D) could not. Participants at D could easily see that A and B were better positioned than they were. On critical trials participants at D could not see clearly enough to answer correctly, yet they heard A and B confidently give the correct answer first. In this situation, agreeing with others’ answers appears to be the only sensible thing to do. Nevertheless, about 30% of the time people chose to disagree with correct answers. This speaking-from-ignorance (SFI) effect occurred despite participants believing that A and B had answered correctly; furthermore, even those participants who chose always to agree with A and B experienced the situation as a dilemma. Whereas people in an Asch situation sometimes agree with answers they think are wrong, people in an SFI situation sometimes disagree with answers they think are correct. Why?
Evidence suggests that the answer has little to do with conformity, stubbornness, or stupidity; rather, these actions are motivated by values (Hodges et al., 2014). The basis for this claim is values-realizing theory (e.g., Hodges & Rączaszek-Leonardi, 2019), which has been applied in a variety of contexts, including perception-action (e.g., Hodges, 2007), social-developmental (e.g., Hodges, 2017; Hodges & Baron, 1992), and language-cognition (e.g., Hodges, 2009, 2014). The theory defines values in terms of ecosystem relationships rather than locating them (as they often are) in persons, cultures, objects, or biological entities. Consider, for example, an ordinary task such as driving a vehicle, during which drivers are constantly enabled and constrained to move freely, accurately, safely, speedily, and comfortably, while being tolerant, fair, and even kind to fellow drivers. Driving demands that drivers attend to such considerations, whether they want to or not, whether they are conscious of such demands or not (Hodges, 2007). Of course, they can fail, more or less, in answering these demands adequately. However, if they do not realize these values sufficiently, driving will cease for them and perhaps for others (e.g., having an accident). The relationship among the various values that constrain driving is heterarchical (Hodges, 2009). In heterarchical relations, there is a cooperative tension among values; they are mutually constraining. One value may take the lead at one moment with respect to another value, but this can quickly reverse if conditions change. People ordinarily drive because they can go farther and faster with greater comfort; however, speed or comfort can quickly be altered in response to the demands of safety, accuracy, or other values. The theory claims there are no permanent hierarchical relations among values, and no simple tradeoffs. Over time and across tasks, all values play a crucial role in shaping action trajectories and patterns (Hodges & Rączaszek-Leonardi, 2019).
How does this apply to the Asch dilemma? Hodges and Geyer (2006) proposed that three salient values in the Asch situation are in tension—truth, trust, and social solidarity. The situation calls for participants to indicate their own views honestly and accurately, while at the same time acknowledging the value of other people’s views, and finally, working to integrate their own views with those of others in a way that is respectful of all concerned. Disagreeing most of the time makes clear one’s resistance, but occasionally repeating what others have said makes it apparent that one is aware of others’ views, and that one intends to treat them as trustworthy partners in understanding the situation. It’s as if one is saying: “I feel quite certain about what I am seeing, but I hear what you are saying, and we have to work together to figure out what is going on.” Thus, the pattern of disagreeing and agreeing answers shown by most participants truthfully captures the frustration and awkwardness of the situation as a whole. Agreeing some of the time with incorrect answers can function as a pragmatic signal of one’s commitment to taking others’ views seriously and one’s openness to further “conversation” about the situation. If one always resists the views of others, he or she runs the risk of being seen as arrogant or dismissive. Dissent implicitly appeals to some sense of shared concern for truth and other goods that provide common ground for communicative discourse. In short, it is morally and socially appropriate to take others’ views seriously, even when we think they are mistaken, and to try to communicate the larger truths that define the situation. People in Asch dilemmas act as if they intend to be truthful and cooperative, trusting that it will be possible over time to discover what is actually going on. This values-realizing account of the Asch dilemma addresses the diversity of Asch’s (1956) results better than alternative accounts (Hodges & Geyer, 2006), and it makes several predictions that have received support, but which challenge other accounts (e.g., Hodges, 2017; Hodges & Rączaszek-Leonardi, 2019).
One such prediction is the SFI effect described earlier. Although it is the inverse of the effect observed in Asch (1956), Hodges et al. (2014) argued that the underlying dynamics are similar. Social solidarity leads each participant to want to contribute to the “conversation” based on his or her own viewpoint, rather than blindly repeating what others have said. However, given that participants cannot answer correctly and do so with proper epistemic warrant (i.e., based on their own perspective), they sometimes choose to reveal truthfully the ignorance of their position, making up an answer they know is incorrect. The effect is robust: when participants were primed to be honest and truthful, 49% of the time participants chose not to agree with correct answers, even when this meant turning down a chance to win money. This and other results challenge claims that people are motivated simply to be correct and to be liked (Hodges et al., 2014).
What does all this mean for knowledge resistance? First, both experiments illustrate that resistance occurs in situations where it might not be expected. Second, both the Asch and SFI experiments situate reasoning in a complex social context that is quite unlike Descartes’ room. Third, there are multiple perspectives that are in tension that must be resolved. Fourth, the situations involve multiple values in tension. Being truthful requires attention to social solidarity and trust, and vice versa. Thus, learning together involves more than copying or resisting; it is modelled better as a dialogue.
New perspectives on reasoning: Communities, dialogue, and resistance
One of the most interesting developments in reasoning studies during the past decade has been arguments claiming that reasoning itself should be understood more as a dialogue and less as an interior, individual activity. Mercier and Sperber (2017) have argued that reasoning is fundamentally a social activity that has two primary functions: first, to produce reasons to justify one’s actions, beliefs, or choices; and second, to produce reasons that can be used in arguments with others to convince them of the worth of one’s actions, beliefs, or choices. They propose that when thinking alone, individuals are mostly concerned with self-justification, and will settle for easy-to-think-of reasons. Nevertheless, this works well much of the time because one person’s lazy, biased views will be challenged by others with different views. In the ensuing dialogue, each person’s weaknesses and biases will be exposed, pushing them to find stronger, more relevant reasons.
All this may sound far too optimistic. Nevertheless, Mercier and his colleagues have provided considerable evidence that limited and flawed reasons offered by individuals can generate dialogues that yield values-realizing outcomes (e.g., Boku, Yama, & Mercier, 2018; Mercier, 2011a, 2011c; Mercier, Boudry, Paglieri, & Trouche, 2017; Mercier & Heintz, 2014; Mercier & Sperber, 2011, 2017). However, there is nothing automatic about this; it depends on prior conditions. If people share a commitment to coordinating their actions to achieve common goals, such as knowing the truth or solving a practical problem, and are willing to engage in cooperative communication, dialogical reasoning usually moves toward greater truth and more appropriate action. Research indicates that group discussion of various cognitive problems, that few individuals would get right by themselves, leads to dramatically improved performance (e.g., Cladière, Trouche, & Mercier, 2017; Laughlin, 2011; Moshman & Geil, 1998). If a single person in the group figures out the correct answer, she is likely to convince the group as a whole as they reason back and forth, even if she was less confident than other group members at the beginning of the discussion (Trouche, Sander, & Mercier, 2014). By contrast, status, authority, and majority influence appear to play little or no role in movement toward correct solutions when compared to the quality of the arguments that discussion generates (Cladière et al., 2017). On tasks in which there are no definitive answers, evidence suggests that group discussion produces stronger, more creative, better supported solutions (Laughlin, 2011; Nemeth, Personnaz, Personnaz, & Goncalo, 2004).
Not only does the argumentative reasoning theory of Mercier and Sperber (2017) point to the social, dialogical nature of reasoning; it also highlights the importance of resistance. Reasoning which occurs in groups where there is agreement without dissent often produces no improvement in finding the truth or developing more adequate solutions to practical problems (e.g., Myers & Bach, 1974). In fact, it sometimes leads to greater polarization (Isenberg, 1986) or less creativity (Nemeth et al., 2004). Mercier and Sperber (2017, p. 241ff) argue that individuals who do most of their thinking on their own, without engaging in real conversations, are like groups without disagreement and debate. They are likely to find themselves using their cognitive skills to spin fantastic skeins of ideas and evidence that may become convoluted and paranoid. It is probably not an accident that conspiracy theorists and people with eccentric beliefs are frequently loners; however, there is little evidence that such people are cognitively defective (Kay, 2011).
Limitations of individual reasoning are not limited to loners and conspiracy theorists; they seem to apply to everyone. Sloman and Fernbach (2017) call it the illusion of knowledge, noting that experts are particularly susceptible to overconfidence. When there are strong prior commitments (e.g., political), greater skill can yield poorer performance (Kahan, Peters, Dawson, & Slovic, 2017), and people with expertise are sometimes less likely than non-experts to consider alternative perspectives (Taber & Lodge, 2006). Such findings suggest that people’s occasional resistance to expert claims is not entirely without warrant. However, the more important point may be that expertise is more a characteristic of communities that engage in argumentative dialogue than it is of isolated individuals.
Truth wins: The crucial role of social solidarity and trust
Although dialogical argumentation improves the quality of reasoning, such that “truth wins” (Mercier, 2011c), Mercier and Sperber (2017) are clear that this depends on the group being heterogeneous, that group members feel free to speak their minds, and that there is a common commitment to finding the truth or solving a practical problem facing the group. Despite the evidence in favor of dissent, resistance, and dialogue, the importance of argumentative dialogue to problem-solving and truth-finding is often not appreciated in the cognitive and social psychological literature (e.g., Mercier et al., 2017; Mercier, Trouche, Yama, Heintz, & Girotto, 2015). However, the willingness to engage in vigorous discussion and argumentation demands considerable trust among group members. Trust is an important moderator of people’s willingness to be swayed by the arguments of others (Kahan, Braman, Cohen, Gastil, & Slovic, 2010; Miton & Mercier, 2015), and trust depends on social solidarity, that is, a desire for the group to flourish and to contribute to realizing values (Hodges & Packer, 2016).
What happens when social solidarity is lacking? Sloman and Fernbach (2017) note that people often have a poor understanding of genetics and thus believe that genes inserted into food will migrate into the genetic code of humans, or that Florida oranges modified with a gene from pigs to make the oranges less susceptible to a deadly virus will end up tasting “porky.” However, being challenged by an outsider to the group (e.g., a scientist rather than someone who is an orange grower) is not likely to lead to productive change; if anything, research suggests, it will have the opposite effect (Mackie, Gastardo-Conaco, & Skelly, 1992; Nyhan, Reifler, Richey, & Freed, 2014). Sloman and Fernbach (2017) discovered that: Exposing people’s illusions can upset them. We have found that asking someone to explain a policy that the person doesn’t really understand does not improve our relationship with that person. Frequently, they no longer want to discuss the issue (and indeed, often they no longer want to talk to us). (p. 192) Our beliefs are not isolated pieces of data that we can take and discard at will … To discard a belief often means discarding a whole host of other beliefs, forsaking our communities, going against those we trust and love, and in short, challenging our identities. (p. 160)
If Sloman and Fernbach are correct, this suggests that if scientists want to be trusted and heard, they must go out of their way to stay engaged with all sorts of communities, expressing social solidarity with them as much as possible without distorting truth and other values unnecessarily. Furthermore, it suggests that scientists wanting to educate others will need to care about those others, which will require them to be educated by those others, so that respect and trust can develop in both directions, even if there are significant disagreements in perspectives and purposes. In their sharp but compassionate book, Denying to the Grave, Sara and Jack Gorman (2017) argue forcefully that adopting condescending attitudes toward those who “don’t get it” about science will do little to improve evidence-based decision-making.
If reaching out to “resisters” sounds absurd, consider the following case. The editor of a technology magazine recently found himself trying to decide what to do about “trolling” on the magazine’s website. He finally worked out a policy compromise, but the more daring thing he did was to reach out to his most persistent and irritating critic, which led to a correspondence between them about the complexities of the judgments that scientists and editors must make. The troll began to argue “less aggressively and more honestly” and even offered the editor a friendly bet: “If global temps drop all by themselves by 2030, you owe me a dinner at a restaurant of my choice; otherwise I owe you one” (Pontin, 2017, p. 93). Of course, it will not always work out this well; nevertheless, the vision that emerges from values-realizing theory suggests that it would often be wise to pursue such possibilities.
Conversation, caring, and values: The pragmatics of reasoning
As helpful as Mercier and Sperber’s (2017) analysis is, it does not account for the caring that is necessary to reasoning. Unless one cares about the issues at stake and about all the parties in the conversation, it is unlikely that epistemological criteria alone will yield productive explorations and discussions (Hodges, 2014). Values can help to motivate caring; they also can be useful as epistemic criteria for evaluating contextually situated reasoning. How so?
Within the framework of values-realizing theory, it has been proposed that people’s actions and learning are constrained by the values of clarity, coherence, comprehensiveness, and complexity (Hodges, 2009). As an illustration, consider a good conversation. Both listeners and speakers work to be articulate (e.g., to differentiate sounds), to be grammatical (i.e., to integrate and organize utterances), and to be meaningful (e.g., to grasp the direction and point of utterances). That is, they try to be clear, coherent, and comprehensive. Furthermore, they speak and listen in a pragmatic fashion, complicating what is said and how it is said in order to make it more subtle, forceful, or interesting (e.g., metaphor, irony, politeness). Thus, complexity contributes to the richness and effectiveness of language (Hodges, 2009). As a hypothesis, values-realizing theory implies that reasoning can also be evaluated using these four values. To illustrate the significance of these four values and the constraints they place on reasoning and thinking, influential exemplars of research that have been criticized for insufficient attention to the social and pragmatic context of reasoning will be presented in the following sections. However, the critiques offered will also illustrate how the scientific understanding of reasoning has become more comprehensive and complex over time, as well as clearer and more coherent, due to argumentative reasoning among researchers. Although many of these criticisms have been noted previously, they have not been brought together and framed in terms of values. Nor have they been related to the dialogical, argumentative nature of reasoning, the complexities of social reasoning, and the importance of resistance to effective thinking.
Feminists and psychologists: The value of clarity
Although experiments in thinking and reasoning are often designed as if they were Cartesian isolation chambers, experiments are actually conversational dialogues between experimenters and participants. A classic example is Tversky and Kahneman’s (1983) Linda problem. Linda is 31 years old, single, outspoken, and very bright. She majored in philosophy. As a student, she was deeply concerned with issues of discrimination and social justice, and also participated in antinuclear demonstrations. Participants were then asked which of the following two alternatives was more probable? (a) Linda is a bank teller, or (b) Linda is a bank teller and is active in the feminist movement (p. 299). The majority of people who were asked this question chose the second option, a logical error according to Tversky and Kahneman. The probability that Linda is a bank teller and a feminist cannot be any greater than the probability that she is a bank teller.
Hertwig and Gigerenzer (1999) offered an ecological and pragmatic critique of this claim. The key terms in the Linda question that create difficulties are the terms and and probable. Tversky and Kahneman assumed, without showing that it is warranted, that the word and is understood in its logical operator sense. People are unlikely to understand it in this restricted sense, but in the more typical sense, of “and here is further relevant information on which to base your decision.” Regarding probable, most people conjure up meanings such as possible, typical, reasonable, or plausible. If one rewrites the Linda problem to be more explicit about what is meant by these terms (e.g., using natural frequencies), the percentage of people answering the question incorrectly drops from about 80% to l0% or less (Hertwig & Gigerenzer, 1999).
From a values-realizing perspective, what Hertwig and Gigerenzer (1999) have shown is that the Linda problem is not clear, but ambiguous. It appears that pragmatic insensitivity by psychologists may have been misread as the intellectual insensitivity of participants. This claim is reinforced by Stanovich and West’s (2008) finding that performance on the Linda problem and general intellectual ability are relatively independent, and by developmental researchers’ finding that 8- to 10-year-old children nearly always answer set inclusion (i.e., conjunction) problems correctly (Reyna, 1991). The Linda problem was deliberately created to be complex (i.e., irrelevant information that invited an inference of relevance), leading participants to attempt to be comprehensive (e.g., determine implications for action), by assuming the issue was one of social norms (i.e., understanding other people) rather than logical norms. Given the lack of clarity and coherence just described, the complexity offered does not enrich participants’ understanding but frustrates it. Complexity without clarity and coherence undermines comprehension.
Finally, would people improve their performance on this problem if it were discussed in a group context, along the lines suggested by Mercier and Sperber (2017)? This has not been addressed to my knowledge, but it is not clear that conversation would help much, since the ambiguity and incoherence of the question would remain.
Squeaky mice: The value of coherence
Although the Linda problem was just used to highlight the value of clarity in reasoning, it revealed that coherence, comprehensiveness, and complexity are involved as well. To illustrate the importance of coherence (i.e., experimental procedures that cohere with the lived concerns of those whose thinking is being evaluated), as well as the need for an argumentative context of care, consider the famous four-card problem of Wason (1968). Cards presented might show A, 6, D, and 7 on the visible side. Participants are instructed as follows: If a card has a vowel on one side, it must have an even number on the other side. Which cards must be turned over to determine if this true or false? As it turns out, only a very small percentage of people identify the relevant cards (A, 7). The conclusion often drawn from this finding is that people are lousy logical thinkers; however, subsequent research has painted a quite different picture (Manktelow, 2012). If the task is made to be socially and pragmatically meaningful (e.g., it has implications for action and coheres with prior experiences), most people answer correctly. Numerous experiments have embedded the four-card problem into social, moral, and prudential contexts that have yielded “logical” answers. Examples include: If a person is drinking beer, then the person must be over 19 years of age. The four cards are: Drinking beer; Drinking lemonade; 22 years old; 16 years old (e.g., Griggs & Cox, 1982). If you [a nurse] clear up spilt blood, then you must wear rubber gloves, and [parent speaking to child], If you tidy up your room, then you may go out to play” (Manktelow & Over, 1991). Cummins (1996) has shown even young children can do the task successfully: It is not safe outside for the squeaky mice, so all squeaky mice must stay in the house. Yes, all squeaky mice have to stay in the house.
All of these studies and others like them suggest that it is only in the real, lived contexts of responsibilities and obligations, of authority and permission, of causes and consequences, that it makes much sense for humans to talk about reasoning. When safety is at stake (e.g., spilt blood, squeaky mice), or truth, freedom, and other values are on the line (e.g., the tidy room yields the promised freedom), then adults and children seem quite capable of testing the validity of relationships. From an ecological, values-realizing perspective, people involved in a Wason task do not engage in reasoning as an exercise in cognitive gymnastics. Rather, they explore possible ways of testing the integrity of people’s actions and relationships within events. The hypothesis offered by values-realizing theory is that values provide motivation to care, as well as criteria by which to assess how caring and careful reasoning is (Hodges, 2009).
Reasoning is improved not only by posing problems that cohere with the cares and concerns of participants; it is also improved by creating dialogical contexts in which problems are discussed. Performance on the Wason task, even the difficult vowels and numbers version, is remarkably good when a group is required to discuss it and develop a common answer (e.g., Mercier et al., 2015; Moshman & Geil, 1998). An ecological, values-realizing approach takes reasoning to be fundamentally social and dialogical: individuals reason together argumentatively in order to understand what is going on and what should be done. When presented with clear problems that cohere with participants’ experiences and cares, reasoning, particularly if it is carried out argumentatively in a group setting, is generally quite effective. Children and adults seem to be able to reason together critically and carefully much of the time (Mercier, 2011b), and these skills are not limited to particular cultures (Boku et al., 2018; Mercier & Sperber, 2017).
Framing effects: The value of comprehensiveness
One of the most important lessons emerging from the many studies done on Wason selection tasks has been that the quality of reasoning is altered by the way in which the task is framed (Manktelow, 2012). Implicitly or explicitly, selection tasks make reference to values, such as safety, truth, and freedom, which provide the motive for caring about the rule that is being tested. Framing effects, per se, have been widely studied in psychology and economics, but usually for the purpose of demonstrating biases of one sort or another (Kahneman & Tversky, 1984). Experimental designs present ostensibly identical information to participants but, framed differently, often lead participants to make different choices or draw different conclusions (e.g., people prefer 75% lean meat to 25% fat meat). However, what appears to be a logical error may not be. If I am visiting my doctor to discuss a possible operation on my knee, does it matter if the doctor says that the operation has an 80% success rate versus framing it in terms of a 20% failure rate? Sher and McKenzie (2008) noted that “framing manipulations [are generally viewed] as implanted bits of knowledge rather than as informative utterances issued in a communicative situation” (p. 91). However, in a conversational context, if the doctor says my chances of being worse off are 20%, I do not take that to be equivalent to her saying the success rate is 80%. In a human interaction in which one trusts doctors to provide advice about one’s health, and to be knowledgeable about better and worse options, it makes sense to pay attention to their subtle, pragmatic hints about better and worse courses of action. Furthermore, Sher and McKenzie (2008) observed: [The speaker said A] is not logically equivalent to [A], and it most definitely is not equivalent to, [The speaker said B], even if A and B are reciprocals of one another. Framing experiments often do not take account of the larger, more comprehensive, communicative context in which judgments are made; the framing is too small. Evidence suggests such considerations matter: if there are good reasons to doubt the trustworthiness and care of the person doing the framing, effects are reduced or eliminated (McKenzie, Liersch, & Sher, 2011).
Comprehensiveness is also shortchanged when information is isolated from its historical context. McKenzie (2004) put a full and an empty glass on a table, and then asked participants to pour half of the full glass into the empty glass, then to place the half full glass at the edge of the table. After the pouring, either glass was half full: Which did participants move to the edge of the table? Most chose the previously empty glass, and if they were asked to move the half empty glass, they chose the previously full one. Pragmatics takes dynamics into account—glasses of water are events, not static objects. They have histories and futures that are relevant to action. Questions can be better answered, and actions more effectively ordered, when understood in a more comprehensive, dynamic, and developmental context.
Despite pointing to limitations in the way researchers sometimes frame their experiments on framing, such effects appear across a wide array of tasks and domains, and sometimes can have considerable practical significance. The question that a values-realizing, ecological approach poses is, what are good ways to frame framing effects, both in research and in terms of practice (Keys & Schwartz, 2007)? Thinking about this question in terms of comprehensiveness suggests a hypothesis: often it might be wise to use multiple frames to evaluate important choices, policies, or procedures. As an example, it has been argued that science benefits from different formulations (framings) of the same physical law: “Psychologically … they are completely unequivalent when you are trying to guess new laws” (Feynman, 1967, p. 53).
If one considers the issue of framing from the perspective of argumentative discourse, different framings of some tasks are more likely to emerge in a community than in an individual. Research has shown that if there is group discussion of a problem in which one frame (e.g., positive) is adopted in a first session and a different frame (e.g., negative) in a second session, this sometimes moderates the decisions of the group so that they are more balanced (Paese, Bieser, & Tubbs, 1993). On the other hand, if the same frame is used for both sessions, decisions can become more polarized. Although the argumentative reasoning thesis (Mercier & Sperber, 2017) claims that diversity of viewpoints (e.g., frames) within a group is important, Kuhn, Floyd, Yaksick, Halpern, and Ricks (2018) found that multiple discussions of a complex issue (e.g., capital punishment) were beneficial, even when people shared the same general position. They found that people altered their arguments in response to what they heard from others, so that most participants adopted stronger arguments and dropped weaker ones over time.
Inconsistency in moral thinking: The value of complexity
As the comprehensiveness of frames of reference are extended, the complexity of reasoning, understanding, action, and character come increasingly into view. “Consistency is often regarded as an end in itself” (Sher & McKenzie, 2008, p. 91); however, such concerns need to be placed in a larger epistemic context, one that requires what Aristotle described as phronesis, not just episteme. Virtue and wisdom, not just technical skill and intelligence, are required to think rightly and act adaptively (Manktelow, 2012, p. 249). Despite this call for greater complexity by some, others have advised policy makers and ordinary citizens to use cost-benefit analysis (CBA) in making decisions. Too often, the argument goes, people let emotions (e.g., a disgust reaction to incest) or a commitment to some moral rule (e.g., do no harm) distort their judgments, leading to outcomes that are described as “suboptimal” (e.g., Bazerman & Greene, 2010).
The following example based on Paharia, Kassam, Greene, and Bazerman (2009) illustrates. A pharmaceutical company provides a valuable drug for cancer patients, but the company’s profit from selling the drug is very small. Increasing the price of the drug is very unlikely to reduce demand for the drug, although it will create financial hardship for some patients. The company decides to triple the price of the drug. Ethical or unethical? Not surprisingly, most people say unethical. The problem from a CBA perspective arises with an alternative scenario in which the pharmaceutical company sells its rights to the drug to a smaller company for 10 million euros, and the smaller company, in an attempt to recoup its investment costs, raises the price to five times the original price of the drug. People presented with this scenario give it unethical ratings too, but slightly less so than for the first scenario. There is no logical problem here, but Bazerman and Greene (2010) argued that there is a moral problem. Based purely on negative consequences for the patients using the drug, the second scenario is worse than the first, so it should be judged more harshly. The basis for their argument is that, if people are presented with both scenarios at once rather than one at a time, they judge the second scenario as more unethical. Bazerman and Greene’s moral bottom line is that people should be consistent across integrated and independent judgments, and integrated judgments should set the standard for the independent judgments. Giving priority to integrated judgments makes sense but ignores the fact that events unfold over time, and reasoning is an ongoing process. Furthermore, consistency as the criterion for what is moral is dubious. Inconsistent decisions are often both coherent and clear, if they are viewed in a larger, richer judgmental context (as was demonstrated in the Asch, 1956, study described earlier). From the perspective of values-realizing theory, isolating a single value (i.e., health) is problematic. Judging how that value is realized based on consequences alone (or intentions, or any other isolated dimension) is even more problematic, especially when only one particular consequence is included in the theoretical analysis.
The problem with CBA is that the comparisons offered by researchers to their participants (e.g., the two scenarios about the cost of a vital drug being increased) are carefully selected to screen out an enormous variety of other considerations the researchers deem “irrelevant” to a proper moral judgment, and to make salient the particular dimension they think is relevant. In short, the problems are framed in a way that biases decision-makers (e.g., which scenario increases prices more), providing a tunnel-vision perspective on the moral landscape. These “closed-world assumptions” are unrealistic and it is clear that participants in decision experiments regularly reject them (Bennis, Medin, & Bartels, 2010). Instead, decision makers try to open up their considerations of the problems that they are offered to a larger range of social and moral dimensions. CBA researchers have not offered a rationale for closing down the world in this way, and Schwartz (2010) has argued that the difficulties with thinking in terms of CBA are “not (just) in us, but in the world” (p. 205). Overall then, CBA attempts to clarify moral judgments, but it does so by shortchanging complexity, comprehensiveness, and coherence. By refusing to consider the whole array of moral resources offered by biology, history, and community to help guide choices, and by oversimplifying the openness and complexity of the world, CBA offers a clarity that turns out to be largely illusory.
Another excellent example of the importance of complexity for locating reasoning in a richer ecological context is the sunk cost effect, which is the tendency to continue to incur costs in a venture even though the prospects are not good (e.g., Although I don’t feel like going to a concert tonight, I go anyway because I had earlier purchased a ticket for $95). Economists routinely treat this as an error; however, Mercier and Sperber (2017) have suggested that following through on commitments one has made, even when it is later learned that it will prove more costly to complete those commitments than previously imagined, sends strong signals to others that the person is someone who is dependable and reliable. Although taking account of sunk costs may look incorrect when it is understood as an isolated choice, it can say something powerful about social solidarity, truth, and trust in the larger context of a community. Others have proposed additional legitimate reasons for taking sunk costs into account (e.g., Keys & Schwartz, 2007; Polonioli, 2016).
A particularly intriguing example of resistance that puts knowledge in a larger, more complicated moral context is information avoidance (Gigerenzer & Garcia-Retamero, 2017; Sweeny, Melnyk, Miller, & Shepperd, 2010). Hertwig and Engel (2016) offered a range of reasons people sometimes choose not to know facts relevant to their lives (e.g., gender of their unborn child). One of the most interesting is that people avoid information in order to increase their sense of agency—providing themselves with greater opportunities to act with confidence and hope. Hertwig and Engel (2016) have suggested that deliberately ignoring relevant information may be crucial to taking on an ambitious project: “It is possible that no textbook would ever be written, no house built, and no opera composed if people based their decision on the progress and success of similar endeavors” (p. 362). Hansson (2010) has argued that the very act of assigning probabilities to various possibilities has moral dimensions that cannot be ignored. What if, he asked, people treated national averages about the probability of divorce as a prediction of the likelihood of their own marriage failing? The frequency of divorce might well increase.
These and other examples illustrate that good reasoning often requires more than straightforward problem-solving or decision-making. Questions about what information to acquire, whether past decisions should affect current decisions, and if, when, and how to make cost-benefit analyses are among the many issues that must be decided or assumed (Keys & Schwartz, 2007). Even when someone has decided to apply cost-benefit reasoning, crucial and controversial issues loom: What is to count as a cost or a benefit? Whose costs and benefits are included or excluded (MacIntyre, 2016)? A more ecological account of values, such as values-realizing theory, can contribute to engaging in such evaluations, but such a theory claims that there are no rules or natural laws that make it easy to do what is wise (Hodges, 2009; Hodges & Baron, 1992).
Prospects for reasoning
What are the implications for theory, research, and application of the arguments and evidence presented? In what follows a series of hypotheses and suggestions are offered, first, regarding theory, then method, and finally, issues related to knowledge and resistance.
Theoretical prospects
The first part of this article presented evidence and arguments for the interdependence of truth, social solidarity, and trust, and the importance of resistance and argumentation to the nature of reasoning. The second part made the case that reasoning depends on the values of clarity, coherence, comprehensiveness, and complexity mutually constraining each other so that actions and decisions are marked by integrity and character. One of the key claims of ecological values-realizing theory is that actions and decisions always involve multiple values. Thus, at any given moment, choices about resisting others or agreeing with them are not directed by predetermined goals or by maintaining consistency, but by working out the tensions between mutually constraining values.
Taking into account the research and theory described earlier, what might be offered as strands of what could become a more substantial theory of ecological reasoning? Here are some working hypotheses: (a) reasoning is primarily a social, dialogical, perception-action skill, rather than an individual cognitive skill; (b) a primary means of reasoning is to engage in cooperative, argumentative conversation; (c) in most ecological contexts, reasoning cannot be judged by accuracy, consistency, or any other isolated value or virtue; (d) reasoning cannot be done properly outside of a larger context of care; (e) reasoning is judged by the same criteria that judge the worth of our conversations and the character of our communities (i.e., clarity, coherence, comprehensiveness, and complexity); (f) reasoning requires community and common ground, but also resistance, all of which require a commitment to truthfulness, trust, and social solidarity; and (g) reasoning needs to be judged less with respect to isolated decisions, and more with respect to the direction of judgment and action over time.
In their analysis of reasoning, Keys and Schwartz (2007) concluded that what experimental researchers most need in order to make progress is a substantive theory of purpose within which activities of reasoning can be understood. Although no such theory is on offer, values-realizing theory, along with other ecological and social approaches to reasoning illustrated in this article may be small steps in the direction of such a theory.
Methodological markers
Although weaknesses in a number of important lines of research were identified earlier, the focus of those concerns was less about methodology and more about the theoretical assumptions and interpretations tied to those methods. The point of an ecological approach is not to “get out of the lab and into the real world” but to have lab or field research that is sensitive to the values that constrain choices and actions, rather than assuming a set of rules that reasoning must conform to in order to be considered appropriate.
Based on values-realizing theory, several methodological guidelines emerge. First, reasoning is rarely if ever governed by a single goal or guided by a single value. Driving is not just about being safe, or accurate, or fast, or comfortable: it is about all of these values and more (Hodges, 2007; Hodges & Rączaszek-Leonardi, 2019). The same is true of reasoning. Thus, researchers would do well to consider multiple goals and multiple values. Second, there are no simple rules that define good reasoning. Incorporating sunk costs into one’s thinking may often help to build character and reputation, as noted earlier, but if one always doubles-down on prior investments, this may well show a lack of insight and wisdom. “Inconsistency” over time may be precisely the best way forward. Enlarging the criteria for good reasoning beyond fixed rules will allow researchers to appreciate better the diversity of situations participants face. Third, research tends to study isolated decisions or judgments, such that the temporal aspect of reasoning is often lost to view (Keys & Schwartz, 2007). As noted earlier, errors in answering individual questions in the Asch dilemma looked quite different when viewed as parts of a larger whole (Hodges & Geyer, 2006). Studies that include a temporal or developmental dimension, or that place decision-making in a social, argumentative context are likely to provide a more accurate understanding of both the strengths and weaknesses of reasoning. Fourth, although any one study is limited in the variables that can be included, across a series of studies, researchers can work to address a broader array of contexts, goals, problem types, and environments in studying how people reason. It is easy for researchers to take the first version of a paradigm (e.g., Wason card task) as the fundamental phenomenon and to see later findings as exceptions or qualifications, rather than determining whether the larger picture challenges the original assumptions in crucial ways.
Much of the research discussed earlier has illustrated some of these suggestions about how to take a more ecological approach to research on reasoning (e.g., Hertwig & Engel, 2016; Moshman & Geil, 1998). Another, quite different, example is found in Erev, Ert, Plonsky, Cohen, and Cohen’s (2017) recent study of decision-making. It offers an intriguing example of a research program that embodied a social, quasi-argumentative methodology (i.e., a competition among researchers), focused on a broad set of problems and phenomena, which were taken from the reasoning literature that has used formal models (e.g., maximum expected returns on monetary gambles). They created a competition in which researchers worked to develop the most accurate model that could predict results across 14 different types of problems (e.g., economic choice games) that had previously revealed a wide variety of biases (i.e., departures from maximizing available payoffs). In short, they developed a comprehensive array of experimental problems that had been designed to provide clear tests of formal reasoning principles (maximize monetary outcomes) while accounting for complexities (i.e., biases) in a coherent way (i.e., formal predictive model). Their approach challenges the tendency of researchers to focus on only one constraint or bias at a time, without considering the relations among them.
Results revealed that participants were quite sensitive to maximum possible monetary returns but also showed robust deviations from maximizing as well (Erev et al., 2017). The evidence indicated that the deviations were due to “contradictory biases” that did not cancel each other out. This fits well with values-realizing theory, which claims that reasoning is guided by multiple values that are in tension with each other, and which are heterarchically related. The other constraints, besides economic value, that Erev et al. (2017) identified in their data were: (a) a tendency to make choices that would allow participants to avoid regret (i.e., would be easiest for them to justify to others and themselves; Connolly & Zeelenberg, 2002), (b) a pessimistic bias (i.e., a tendency to assume the worst possible outcome), (c) a tendency to weight factors relevant to expected outcomes equally (rather than assuming that future preferences would be weighted like past ones), (d) a preference for choosing the option that included the best possible outcome, and (e) a tendency to avoid excessively complicated possibilities (e.g., large payoff ranges, ambiguous outcomes). To a considerable extent these biases appear to reflect the importance of choices being jointly constrained by social solidarity, as well as clarity, coherence, comprehensiveness, and complexity (i.e., tension between best and worst possible outcomes).
Finding the common good
Decision making can be extraordinarily complicated even for people well-acquainted with the facts and dedicated to evidence-based reflection. In their discussion of risk and denial, Gorman and Gorman (2017) do a particularly good job of portraying the real-world difficulty of people trying to make good decisions in a complex world with multiple sources of information that may pull in different directions (see also Barzilai & Ka’adan, 2017). An example of the complexities of judgment is illustrated by a couple who had two close relatives they deeply admired, both medical professionals, strongly advise them against giving their first-born child the measles immunization sequence. Another relative, who was a scientist, was adamant that they should follow the standard protocol for childhood inoculations. After studying the various arguments, involving the risks to their child along with the countervailing risks to other children, they made a creative choice: they vaccinated, but adopted the longest possible time window for having the series of inoculations administered. This is an example of the kind of creative compromise that a values-realizing approach to reasoning encourages.
However, tragic outcomes can occur, especially if there is a focus on a single value, isolated from other values. If a value is isolated and treated as if it were a goal, other relevant values are likely to be shortchanged, undermining the possibility of realizing even the chosen value (Hodges & Baron, 1992). Safety alone can be dangerous, as parents in a town near me learned when they chose not to vaccinate their child. Their child got measles, affecting all his classmates: a week of school was lost for everyone. It did not endear the parents to the community, and their own child suffered. In the end, everyone was less safe.
The research reviewed earlier indicates that knowledge resistance is not primarily due to individuals with defective cognitive processes. Rather, it is the difficulty that all thinkers share in dealing with conflicting sources of information, and the tendency to avoid the resistance offered by disagreement and dialogue. It is extremely difficult to choose to trust other people when there are significant disagreements. Nevertheless, a values-realizing approach suggests that social solidarity and truth will require that trust be worked out, if there is to be a good chance of long-term success. If this is correct, it suggests scientists will need to establish social solidarity with all types of communities and cultures if they are to be effective in finding and sharing truths about problems and solutions. Thinkers of every kind need resistance from others, as well as agreement, if they are to find their way to truth, justice, and other values. Perhaps, in learning to trust and resist, researchers who think about thinking and do research on reasoning can be of help to others as well as themselves.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to the Wenner-Gren Foundation for their invitation and funding to speak at a conference on “Knowledge Resistance and How to Cure It” in Stockholm, Sweden, September 2017. Portions of this article were presented there. I am also indebted to anonymous referees for helpful comments, and to colleagues and friends for sharing personal stories.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
