The axiom of futility
Philosopher Larry Becker articulated what he called the axiom of futility: we ought to make it an important component of our personal and social actions
“Axiom of Futility. Agents are required not to make direct attempts to do (or be) something that is logically, theoretically, or practically impossible.” (L. Becker, A New Stoicism, ch. 4)
A few days ago I was at the 19th European Skeptics Congress, where I had the honor to deliver a keynote address on skepticism as a philosophy of life. One of the discussion sessions highlighted what I have come to think of as a persistent issue not just with skepticism, but with any kind of activism to make the world a better place: people, unwittingly, are often in violation of Larry Becker’s Axiom of Futility, i.e., they try to do something that is logically, theoretically, or practically impossible. And then, of course, they become frustrated and more likely to give up.
For instance, there was much talk at the Congress about the need to teach critical thinking in schools, to overcome people’s superstitions, to convince politicians to act rationally in the interest of society at large, and so forth. All of these are, without a question, highly commendable goals of the skeptic movement. All of which we have been pursuing for decades (or, depending on how you look at it, centuries…). All of which we have failed to accomplish, despite some gain (and some losses) here and there.
Which prompted me to ask myself: aren’t skeptics supposed to be into reason and evidence? Doesn’t the recent and historical track record tell us that most politicians will be corrupt and inept, a large number of people will indulge in superstitious nonsense, and parents and school boards will only pay lip service to the notion of teaching critical thinking to kids? So why are we still pursuing the same objectives, regardless of the mounting evidence that they are not—at a global level—achievable?
I can guess what you might be thinking. But Massimo, that’s unnecessarily pessimistic talk! What if NASA had said at the beginning of the Moon race that it just couldn’t be done? What if Galileo had given up in the face of the Catholic Church’s opposition to his ideas? Well, Galileo did give up, while NASA had no empirical or theoretical reason to think that we couldn’t get to the Moon. So hear me out a bit.
Let’s start with the easy end of the problem. Becker’s Axiom of Futility refers to three kinds of impossibilities: logical, theoretical, and practical. It ought to be obvious that if something is logically impossible we shouldn’t give it a second thought, because the laws of logic are stronger even than those of physics. Should you attempt, say, to draw a round square? Or perhaps a triangle with four sides? No, because those are logically impossible geometric figures.
Next we get to physical impossibility. One of Kurt Vonnegut’s novels, Hocus Pocus, features a college library with an exhibit of perpetual motion machines as a monument to human foolishness, since that kind of machine is in violation of both the first and second principles of thermodynamics, two of the best established laws of nature. As a result, perpetual motion machines simply cannot be built. Indeed, the US Patent and Trademark Office has made it its official policy to stop considering applications for perpetual motion machines unless accompanied by a working model. Not surprisingly, nobody has ever submitted one.
And now the tricky bit: practical impossibility, which is, I think, the sort of impossibility that skeptics (and many others) continuously run afoul of. Practical impossibility refers to things or projects that cannot be done for pragmatic reasons, given the best information we have at this moment. For instance, if NASA decided to make it an urgent priority to send astronauts to the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, that would run afoul of Becker’s principle. Not because it is logically or physically impossible, but because—given the current status of NASA’s financial and technological abilities—attempting such a mission at this point in time would be a foolish waste of resources.
To use an example closer to home, imagine I suddenly get interested in playing the cello. I buy one, hire a teacher, start practicing, and set myself the goal of performing at Carnegie Hall, one of the world’s most renowned music venues. It’s just not going to happen, because I don’t have the talent for that sort of thing. Trust me, I tried playing several instruments, always with at best very mediocre results, light years from what it takes to get to Carnegie Hall.
The problem is that while logical and physical impossibilities are rather straightforward, the category of pragmatic impossibility is fluid, and always subject to the obvious objection: how do you know? The answer is that we know in the same manner in which we know anything else. We formulate our best judgment based on the available evidence, and we keep in mind that such judgment is open to revision should the evidence change.
I find it puzzling that people have a negative knee-jerk reaction to the kind of call for reasonable caution I’m making here. They seem very concerned with lost opportunities of the kind “but if I don’t try to do X I will be missing out on Y and Z.” As in: if I don’t practice my cello I will never become a famous and wealthy musician.
True, but the other side of the coin is that you may attempt a pragmatically impossible X and in the process waste a lot of money, time, and emotional strength. Cellos are expensive, and so are lessons from good teachers. That’s why the reasonable thing to do whenever contemplating a really difficult task is to take it seriously enough to ask yourself whether it may run afoul of Larry Becker’s Axiom of Futility. Then act on your best judgment.
Now back to the goals of the skeptical movement. If modern scientific skepticism aims at the elimination of superstition, the universal teaching of critical thinking, and the adoption of rational and evidence-based policies by governments worldwide then modern scientific skepticism, in my mind, clearly violates the Axiom of Futility. Not on logical or physical but on pragmatic grounds. It’s just not gonna happen. Indeed, it is modern research on cognitive biases and human social psychology that tells us this. And if skepticism is about listening to the evidence than we ought to take note.
Superstition and poor thinking have been around since the dawn of humanity, with early commentators like Socrates and Cicero raising the issue over two millennia ago. Schools are not going to teach critical thinking in the way it ought to be done because there is both political resistance and resistance by parents, especially in certain areas of the United States. Governments and parents are forms of authority. And the last thing an authority wants is for those it seeks to control to start thinking critically. As for evidence-based policies, we live in a world in which politicians have by default a very narrow time horizon about which to worry (i.e., until the next political campaign), so they are unlikely to push for needed long-term policies they will not be able to benefit from in the currency of re-election. Moreover, whether we admit it or not, even democratic countries are often actually run by a oligarchy of very rich people and even richer and more powerful multinational corporations. Again, not a situation conducive to rational government in the interest of all.
What then? Should we close shop and go home in despair? Should we just selfishly enjoy what we have and forget about helping the world? Absolutely not. That would be a betrayal of our ethical duties toward the human cosmopolis. Rather, we should take a clue from the Stoic emperor-philosopher Marcus Aurelius, who wrote:
“Set yourself in motion, if it is in your power, and do not look about you to see if anyone will observe it; nor yet expect Plato’s Republic: but be content if the smallest thing goes on well, and consider such an event to be no small matter.” (Meditations, IX.29)
Don’t wait for Plato’s Republic was Marcus’ version of don’t expect for Utopia. And this is an emperor talking, literally the most powerful man in the entire Roman world, with almost absolute powers, including that of life or death. Yet, he realized that even emperors can’t change things dramatically overnight, because they too have to reckon with the complex pragmatics of human nature.
But there is an alternative, as far as the skeptic movement is concerned: Carl Sagan’s famous “candle in the dark” metaphor, articulated in his The Demon Haunted World. Sagan was too shrewd an observer of human history to believe that it was pragmatically feasible for the light of reason to brightly illuminate all of the human experience—the project that the philosophes of the Enlightenment had naively believed in.
Instead, he suggested that the goal should be the more modest one of keeping the candle lit, so that humanity could continue to benefit from reason and science as much as possible. We certainly should make the tools of critical thinking available to whoever wishes to take advantage of them. We also should keep up the pressure on politicians and government to act rationally in the common interest. And we should counter pseudoscience and assorted nonsense at any opportunity. But with the sober understanding that all progress will be local and possibly temporary, subject to advances and reversals like anything else in human affairs.
Who knows, perhaps at some point in the distant future the entire room might finally be lit up and all obscurantism and superstition banned forever. But—as Marcus says—it’s not practical to wait for that moment. We need to do whatever we can, however little, right here and now. Because it matters.
This essay nicely states the conundrum - thank you for this insight.
As to your comment: "the adoption of rational and evidence-based policies by governments worldwide ... It’s just not gonna happen", I have found that I have recently come up against this in American politics in the search for a viable third party. As a former Libertarian, (who left because I set myself an empirical test of this political philosophy which failed), I noticed that they are proud to say that they are "The party of Principle". This is a stark example of cognitive bias at its worst. As they said in the George W. Bush White House, this is faith-based politics. The problem is that, if they come up against disconfirming evidence, their tendency is to reject the evidence and stick to their principles. So, if confronted with the failures of laissez-faire Capitalism, they argue it away instead of recognizing that regulations and financial laws help. I am sorry to say that the Green Party in America has a similar problem: they tend to be anti-Imperialsts, so they are blaming the current invasion of Ukraine on American machinations and excusing Putin's behavior. A third recent example is in England with Conservative Party Prime Minister Truss's embrace of tax cuts for the rich - something Krugman refers to as Zombie economics.
There has to be more that can be done than a "candle in the dark". I hope that eventually we can come up with a way to say to someone to do as I did: if you have faith in your beliefs, then you should be able to make a predictive test of these beliefs. Then if the prediction come out false, accept reality as it is and change your beliefs. This is one of the basic principles of the scientific method.
It may even be possible that the solution to this problem is relatively simple, it's just that we haven't approached it the right way. What I am thinking of could be the political equivalent of Semmelweis's discovery of antisepsis - wash your hands, at least! Or in this case, practice political hygiene.
Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux.