The problem with intuition

Given the apparent failure of our intuitions, in the sense that they can conflict, and further noting that I have hard time conciliating even some of the varied nuances of my own intuitions, we may move on to the second question I presented at the beginning of section 6.1:

(2) Why should we trust our intuitions in general, especially if they can be conflicting between individuals?

Of course, this is largely a rhetorical question. We should not automatically just trust our intuitions, especially if they can conflict between individuals, let alone within an individual.¹²⁰ Our intuitions concerning the role of knowledge or awareness in moral responsibility is hardly an exception in the sense that our intuitions seem to be at odds at times. As it happens, even Sher wrote that he sees the searchlight view as “the default position to which we gravitate when we are not thinking hard about the knowledge requirement” (2009, 7), yet, ironically, thinks his intuitions reliably guide us away from the searchlight view (cf. sect. 3.2).

Below, I provide an illustration of what I see to be the basic problem with intuition, and how I think it encourages us to consider a pragmatic angle in our approach to the epistemic condition (6.1.3.1). Further, I consider our current practices that are presumably to some significant degree guided by our prevailing intuitions about responsibility (6.1.3.2).

6.1.3.1 The basic problem and a pragmatic turn

The basic problem with intuition can more generally be characterized as the often-made observation in our everyday lives – as well as in the history of false but intuitively appealing knowledge claims¹²¹ – that our intuitions can lead us astray and that there can be conflicting intuitions both between and within individuals as well as groups of people. For a somewhat relevant example for this context, I have encountered people who claim that their intuitions support a harsh retributive or deterrent system of punishment as a means to a more peaceful society, whereas some other people claim that their intuitions say a more restorative or rehabilitative approach to justice would yield better results.¹²² As a more commonplace example, we may think how our intuitions concerning what kind of nutrition (or diet) would be the best for our health goals can conflict between individuals, and further be in conflict in relation to (research about) what nutrition would actually benefit us the most.¹²³ In just about any branch of science there is almost a hyperawareness of just how mistaken our common intuitions can be, and thus research to test our intuitions via testing out hypotheses is valued.

Relatively often, research can reveal results that undermine our prior intuitions.¹²⁴ Therefore, even though if the current intuitions of many people, even the majority, suggest one thing as being the case, the case may in fact be something different entirely.

Concerning especially moral intuitions, we may further consider their often, if not always, quickly reacting and emotion-laden nature. We often feel strong and uncomfortable feelings of cognitive dissonance whenever our morally implicated intuitions about, for example, justice or nutrition are deeply challenged, and even if this happens on strongly evidential grounds.¹²⁵ Likewise,

those who do not share our intuitions often feel just as uncomfortable when we challenge their sentiments, even if on evidential grounds. To paraphrase social psychologist Thomas Gilovich (1991, 83–84): when we want to believe something, we effectively ask “can I believe it?” (i.e., can I find any reason to believe the a priori conclusion?); and when we don’t want to believe something, we ask “must I believe it?” (i.e., can I find any reason to doubt the proposed conclusion?) (see also Ditto

& Lopez 1992). The standards of evidence for the two questions are quite different. It seems to be a comparative rarity, if not impossibility, to emulate a neutral observer and merely ask “what does the overall evidence suggest?”.

However, when we do manage to tame our passions – however difficult it may be – it seems easier to find approaches that also tame these kinds of communication dilemmas and help us see the cumulative evidence behind or outside them, no matter what direction the evidence may ultimately point to. Taming our passions may also help us generate more trustworthy intuitions (Stanovich 2018a). Still, we appear to remain highly prone to see what our initial passions want to see whenever there is any ambiguity involved (e.g., Balcetis & Dunning 2006). More specifically, we remain prone to confirmation bias (e.g., Blanco & Matute 2018; Hart et al. 2009; Nickerson 1998), motivated reasoning (e.g., Kunda 1990; see also Balcetis & Dunning 2006; Ditto & Lopez 1992; Ditto, Pizarro,

& Tannenbaum 2009; Druckman & McGrath 2019; Nir 2011), finding ad hoc explanations, and to many other cognitive blunders, distortions, and biases that can compromise our understanding of reality and, as a consequence, our functioning in accordance with it (for illustrative lists, see Novella 2018, 44–140; Pohl 2017; see also Gilovich 1991; Haidt 2012, 84–108; Kahneman 2011; Nisbett 2016; Sutherland 1992/2013; see also sect. 6.4.2).¹²⁶ Moreover, we seem to be particularly motivated by the views that appear to be held within our perceived in-group (e.g., Balliet, Wu, & De Dreu 2014;

Ditto et al. 2019b; Thürmer & McCrea 2018; see also Delamater et al. 2015, 452–460 & 481–485;

Taber & Lodge 2006; sect. 1.1 & 1.2; see also intergroup attributional bias: sect. 6.2.1n137), and especially so in polarized settings (Druckman et al. 2013).¹²⁷ At the same time, we are prone to exhibit bias blind spot: to naïvely perceive we are less biased than most others (e.g., Pronin, Gilovich, &

Ross 2004; Pronin, Lin, & Ross 2002; Scopelliti et al. 2015), a result recently replicated in samples from the US and Hong Kong (Chandrashekar et al. 2019). Thus, all things considered, caution remains warranted whenever we are dealing with intuitions, or reasoning that heavily relies on them.¹²⁸

This sort of description can be viewed as something approaching a Humean take on the nature of intuitions, and similar views have been widely advocated by moral psychologists and philosophers, and others, on both rational and empirical grounds (see, e.g., Cushman, Young, & Greene 2010; Ditto et al. 2009; Flanagan & Richardson 2010; Greene 2013; Haidt 2001, 2011b, 2012; Kahneman 2011;

Kauppinen 2013; see also Aristotle & Reeve 2014, X.9.1179b22–28; Hume 1739–40, T 1.3.1.2, SBN 70; T 2.3.3.4, SBN 414-5; sect. 4.1.4n81). Not all nuances are agreed upon, however, but the general theme of there being two general types of thinking processes seems descriptive of these views.

Nowadays, these commonly build on or refer to various versions of what are known as dual-process theories of higher cognition, in which context the general distinction between our automatic, intuitive, fast-responding evaluations and reflective, analytic, slow deliberations are referred to as the distinction between Type 1 and Type 2 processing, respectively; also called System 1 and System 2 (Evans & Stanovich 2013; see also De Neys 2018; Kahneman 2011).¹²⁹ Relating to the previously mentioned importance of metacognition (sect. 6.1.1.1n107), variation in the functioning of these two types of thinking seem to be connected to variation in the efficiency of our metacognitive processes via those processes determining when we engage in Type 2 reasoning (Thompson 2009; Thompson, Turner, & Pennycook 2011; Thompson, Evans, & Campbell 2013).¹³⁰ In effect, it seems that the more dogmatic our intuitive judgments are, on a particular case, the less we are prone to do so (Thompson et al. 2011, 2013; see also note 125).¹³¹

It may further be described that all perceptions are at least potential vehicles for arousing our emotions and bringing about feeling states via Type 1 processing. Yet, feelings that a shared perception can bring about at a given time can vary individually. For example, even though I tend to feel inspiration and hopeful optimism when watching the fictional series Star Trek (particularly The Original Series and The Next Generation), someone else may tend to feel dismay instead, and yet a third person may feel apathy or boredom, and so on. This variation is most likely explained by some combination of environmental and biological/neurological variation in our personal histories (including our upbringing, family histories, cultural histories, and epigenetic, genetic and evolutionary histories – along with related epistemic histories, histories of imagination, histories of illness or health, and histories of bias inoculation, etc.). Our upcoming histories may of course further affect our views. It seems that most, if not all, intuitions work in this way. The same stimulus X – for example, the example of Alessandra forgetting her dog in the van – can bring about different intuitions (of moral judgment) in different people at a given time (and emotions, which most likely follow those intuitions, or vice versa, or they may be co-constituted, or loop in various ways; see Avramova &

Inbar 2013). There are most likely some biological species-specific boundaries to what intuitions a specific stimulus can induce in a body experiencing consciousness, but within those limits, and further based on our individual histories, intuitions appear to vary. And this would appear to apply to philosophers as well (Sinnott-Armstrong, Young, & Cushman 2010, 268–270; see also sect. 2.2n50).

Especially since our intuitions in Sher’s example cases would appear to vary, and thus as our approach to moral responsibility would appear to be not constant across individuals, I would be prone to think about the matter more pragmatically: Given that our intuitions vary to one degree or another, and given that our relevant intuitions are and can be shaped by our upbringing and other environmental factors (e.g., Aristotle & Reeve 2014, X.9; Sher 2001; see also sect. 2.1n33), it would be productive to approach the question of our intuitions about the epistemic condition via a question of what kind of thinking about the matter would be most conducive to a well-functioning coexistence within a society. In other words: how should we think about the matter – for example, in terms of best guiding people’s future actions, and/or upholding individual, societal, and global mental health (within the boundaries that biology permits)? Or, more broadly, how should we think about the matter in terms of cultivating more widespread eudaimonia; that is, human flourishing (see, e.g., Flanagan 2011, 95 & 158–159 & 201–202)? Later, when the answers would be approached, we could then focus on trying to encourage that sort of thinking on a wider societal level, via our institutions and general educational work, so that in time we could be molded to better follow a form of moral evaluation and judgment that would be more uniformly conducive to individual, societal, and global well-being. The related cognitive processes can be noted to relate to moral metaevaluation, metajudgment, or metaresponsibility¹³²: the (study of) monitoring and control of our evaluations, judgments, and conventions relating to moral responsibility.

This pragmatic turn can be seen as a shift from the merit-based view to the consequentialist view regarding moral responsibility, where the latter has been largely neglected in the last few decades (sect. 2.2). Even though it seems to be a debatable question of which direction Aristotle himself advocated, this is nevertheless the direction I think ought to be taken. At the same time, we may read Aristotle as talking about this direction (see ch. 2), and, furthermore, we may add to and enhance his thoughts via the accumulating empirical evidence that is nowadays available to us.

6.1.3.2 Our current practices

In addition to Sher claiming that our intuitions would (universally) not match with the searchlight view, he also says that our actual practices do not match with it (see sect. 3.3.2). Given that our common practices are largely guided by our intuitions, we may find some corresponding individual variation there as well. I would imagine my practices largely corresponding with my intuitions (in Sher’s example cases), at least insofar as they are not clouded by some distorting cognitive biases or emotions in particular circumstances, and insofar as I am not coerced to act against them. However,

as Zimmerman can be seen to note (2009, 254), Sher’s account may very well capture the everyday moral judgments of the majority, and thus the most common practices concerning moral judgment. It may actually be the case that our current most common individual intuitions and consequent practices correspond to Sher’s account. But I don’t think there are good reasons to yield the matter to the hands of the current possible majority intuitions and practices.

In fact, I think the current possible majority intuitions and practices may be something we should be very well worried about. In recent years, this concern is well demonstrated, for example, on social media. In sections 1.1 and 1.2, motivating this examination, I summarized some of the research concerning moral outrage online, and of the related peculiarities of human interaction. Those phenomena may partly be seen as manifestations of these kinds of individually vaguely defined and fuzzy intuitions about responsibility running wild, largely ignoring or being unaware of the epistemic component in responsibility, properly understood. If nothing else, the political polarization and seemingly commonplace hasty knee jerk reactions, moral judgments, and modern-day witch hunts between various polarized groups are certainly not signs of calmly thinking things through.

Granted, Sher thinks awareness does still matter to some significant degree (via his clause 1 of FEC), and he may be well motivated to communicate this to a public that seems misguided when judging each other. However, I do not think he gives enough credit for it mattering – especially since [A] our intuitions in his example cases do not match; and since [B] he seems much quicker to blame and assign negative moral responsibility to agents, and even punishment (see sect. 3.3.2; cf. 6.1.1);

and because [C] he pays no explicit attention to metacognition (see sect. 6.1.1.1n107; 6.1.1.5). More in line with other thinkers (see ch. 5), I think the role of (meta)knowledge or (meta)awareness in moral responsibility should particularly be emphasized, if not fully endorsed, via some variety of the searchlight view or, perhaps, Smith’s attributionism (or, perhaps, via some view that is not much examined in this thesis).

I think there are good pragmatic reasons for emphasizing the role of (meta)knowledge in agent evaluation, and I present an explicit pragmatic argument for those reasons in section 6.4. But before that, in section 6.2, I raise some relevant reservations I have about the issue regarding the engaged and the detached perspective; and, in section 6.3, I examine some epistemic challenges Sher’s account would seem to face.