If you’re so smart why are you ignorant?
Epistemic causal paradoxes
to appear in
Analysis, probably April 02
ADAM MORTON
1. Fantasia
epistemologico-theologica Once
before a time there was a god, who liked to be worshipped. So he liked his
creatures to have enough intellectual extravagance to conjecture his existence.
In fact, he liked his creatures to have intellectual extravagance. Such
creatures reminded him of himself and relieved his loneliness. So he was
willing to reward intellectually adventurous animals, whose tiny animae dared
to conjecture about things they had no intrinsic hope of understanding. He was
happy to reward such creatures by giving them a small but not quite miniscule
chance of true belief. So created he animals, of a first and a second kind, and
he created a universe for them to puzzle over. Animals of the first kind had
intellectual extravagance, and he contrived the universe so that it bore a
remote resemblance in some respects to the conjectures that the more daring of
the animals would make, given the evidence they were capable of collecting. And
to express his contempt for lowly life forms that stick to the bare facts he
equipped animals of the second kind not only with an aversion to conjecture but
also with pattern-recognition capacities that were likely to miss many subtle
twists of the evidence. Their predictions were likely to be wrong.
You
are one of these animals, though you don’t know which kind. You have foraged
some evidence. A daring explanation of it zips vaguely through your mind; you
think thoughts about curled up multidimensional spaces and particles moving
backwards in time. The explanation sums up patterns in the evidence that you
can think of no other way to of summarize. You are poised between the
extravagant conclusion that the universe is in fact as conjectured, and the
timid conclusion that future evidence is likely to conform to the pattern on
which the conjecture gives a handy if dubious hold. You realize that this is
just the sort of situation that the god was anticipating. (That there is such a
god with such preferences is of course another daring conjecture, but you leave
that out of the calculation.) So if you accept the extravagant conclusion you
are most likely an animal of the first kind. Your explanation has a small
chance of being true and a slightly larger chance of delivering true
predictions. And if you accept the timid conclusion you are most likely an
animal of the second kind. There are doubts even about your predictions of
future data. This suggests that you maximize your chances of truth by believing
the daring conjecture. But an alternative line of reasoning also occurs to you.
If you are an animal of the first kind then your timid conclusion is more
likely to be true than your extravagant conclusion. So too is it if you are an
animal of the second kind. So either way (Footnote)…
2.
Dominance versus maximization The competing factors behind
considerations about what belief to hold in this case should have a familiar
air. On the one hand we have a maximization argument: considerations pointing
towards a greater chance of truth for one belief than another. On the other
hand we have a dominance argument: there are only two possible cases and in
either one one belief is better than the other. And the two seem to conflict.
Put this way, the example is reminiscent of the cases which motivate the switch
from evidential to causal decision theory, such as Jeffrey’s nicotine addiction
case or Newcomb’s problem, or the examples in the influential paper by Gibbard
and Harper. (See Jeffrey 1983: 15-23, Gibbard and Harper 1978, Joyce 1999. I am
presupposing familiarity with these examples. A good collection is Campbell and
Sowden 1985, but the literature has continued to grow since.) Like many of
those cases, the example depends on a probabilistic feedback between the state
whose rationality is being expressed and the factors on which its rationality
depends. Moreover, the example generates temporal asymmetries much like those
that causal decision cases often do. Under suitable conditions it is – arguably
– rational to acquire a disposition to perform future acts (choose 1-boxishly,
drink toxins, cooperate in Prisoners Dilemmas) although when the time to act
arrives it will be rational to act contrary to those dispositions. Similarly,
if in the case above we give an individual a choice of becoming an animal of
either type then there is a clear case for becoming the adventurous type one, a
case which does not wipe out the reasons for accepting the more cautious belief
at the epistemic crunch.
(Another way of putting it: the
ur-type of causal decision case is the Calvinist argument for good behavior.
Virtuous acts are evidence that you are – were always – one of the elect, so
although sins do not cause damnation sinners ought to regard their crimes as
very bad news. The case in section 1 is an epistemic analog of this situation.)
The existence of epistemic analogs of
causal decision cases is puzzling, though. Those cases show that it can be good
news that one is doing something, though it is the less good thing to do. Now
certainly it can be good news that one believes something irrational. It might
be a sign that one is likely to be accepted by some religious community, for
example, or that some anti-intellectual person might love one. But that is an
instrumental kind of good news. What a purely epistemic analog would require
would be that it be good evidence of the truth of your belief that you had
irrationally acquired it. So why would the acquisition then be irrational? Some
clarification is needed.
3.
Simpsonian statistics and reliable beliefs Behind many causal
decision cases there is a common statistical pattern. It is usually called
Simpson’s paradox – see Cartwright 1983: 36-38 – and amounts to the following
surprising but non-paradoxical fact. We have a population of individuals, which
we divide into two sub-populations. There are two groups of individuals, A and
B, found in both sub-populations, and an attribute X that such individuals can
have. Then it is possible that in both sub-populations the proportion of As
that are X is greater than the proportion of Bs that are X, but in the
population as a whole the proportion of A’s that are X is smaller than
that of B’s that are X.
Here is an example, which should both
make it less puzzling that such statistics can occur and make the connection
with the topic of this paper. You have submitted a research paper for an
interdisciplinary journal. Your paper is on decision theory and so could be
thought of as philosophy, economics, statistics or psychology. The editor of
the journal assigns papers to two teams of referees, those for humanities and
those for social science. These teams then both label each paper with the name
of a discipline, for use in their own record-keeping, and, independently,
evaluate its quality, leading to eventual acceptance or rejection. You don’t
know which set of referees your paper has gone to, let alone whether it has
been accepted. But you do learn, via an email indiscretion, that it has been abellin
as philosophy. And you know from fairly robust past evidence that disproportionately
many ‘philosophy’ papers are rejected. So you feel pessimistic, inclined to
believe that your paper will be rejected.
However there are facts that you do
not yet know. The papers are accepted or rejected entirely on the basis of
quality, and ‘philosophy’ papers are generally of high quality. In fact, both
the humanities and the social science referees tend to accept
disproportionately many papers they have abellin ‘philosophy’. The reason that
disproportionately many ‘philosophy’ papers are rejected overall is that the
humanities referees both label more of the papers assigned to them as ‘philosophy’
and reject more of the papers assigned to them than the social science referees
do. Thus being in the pool of papers with the higher rejection rate correlates
with being labelled ‘philosophy’, even though in either pool being labelled ‘philosophy’ correlates with acceptance {footnote}.
Now consider again your belief that
your paper will be rejected. It is based on definite statistics, and not
plainly irrational. But there is something deviant about it. For the fact that
your paper has got the ‘philosophy’ label is correlated in both humanities and
social science with a greater chance of acceptance. So in that way learning its
labelling is good news. There are two ways to express the deviance of
your belief. First, the reasoning on which the belief is based though not
fallacious is not a reliable source of true beliefs. It is not the case that
had your paper not been labelled ‘philosophy’ it would have been less likely to
be rejected. In the nearest worlds in which it is not labelled ‘philosophy’ it
is more likely to be rejected, since in the nearest worlds it is still with
whichever referees actually have it, and ‘philosophy’ labelling tends to be
associated with a judgment of quality that that goes with acceptance {footnote). Second, the belief is unstable
in relation to future evidence. You may learn tomorrow that your paper is being
considered by the humanities referees, or you may learn that it is in the hands
of the social scientists. Suppose that you have learned the full underlying statistics
of acceptance and rejection. Then if you learn that the humanities referees
have your paper you will find the fact that it has been labelled ‘philosophy’
comforting, a suggestion of acceptance. And so will you if you learn the social
scientists have it. So the grounds for your earlier belief that the paper will
be rejected are going to be undermined either way the future information comes
in, as you can now know.
It is important to distinguish between
two contexts in which to assess the problematic quality of the belief. Before
you know the full statistics, knowing only that ‘philosophy’ is correlated with
rejection, your belief is unreliable in that there is not a suitable
counterfactual link between it and its evidence, and in that given true but unknown
fuller statistics it can be undermined however future evidence comes in. At
this stage we can diagnose the situation as: internalistically justified but
externalistically unjustified. (This is
analogous to the situation of a person in a Jeffrey-style case, in which there
is a common gene that disposes both to nicotine addiction and to lung cancer,
who knows only that smoking is correlated with lung cancer. Such a person’s
reasonable choice of not smoking is not a reliable means of preventing the
disease.) Suppose that you continue to hold the belief even later, when you
know the full statistics. Then the status of your belief is more puzzling. It
is not simply irrational: after all, the ‘philosophy’ label is a sign that the
paper has probably gone to the humanities referees, who reject more papers. But
it is still unreliable, as you can see, and as a sign of this you should be
able to see that whichever way information about the referees comes in, when it
does you will be able to cite the paper’s labelling as a reason for greater
confidence in its acceptance. (Again an analogy with Jeffrey’s case may help.
Suppose that if you have the relevant gene smoking makes lung cancer less
likely, as it does if you do not, although overall smoking is correlated with a
greater risk of lung cancer. This could be because although the gene is the
greatest cause of lung cancer stress, which smoking reduces, is a minor cause.
Then on finding yourself smoking you could either say “oh-oh: that suggests I
have the fatal gene”, or you could say “good, whether or not I have the gene
this will give some measure of protection.”)
The important point here is not
whether the belief in question is, all things considered, justified. (My own
conviction is that “justified”, “rational” and the like are too crude labels to
do justice to the issues here. So for that matter are externalist alternatives
such as “reliable”, or “counterfactually linked”, without a lot of
fine-tuning.) The important point is the similarity of the issues to those that
arise with causal decision cases. With many puzzling epistemic and
decision-theoretic cases the root of the puzzle is Simpson-shaped statistics
where one set of correlations has counterfactual force and the other does not.
4.
One-coining/ two-coining There are thus systematic reasons for
thinking that some aspects of the causal decision cases have epistemic analogs,
in fact that they are fundamentally epistemic phenomena. So is there an
epistemic analog of the most intuition-dividing casual decision case, Newcomb’s
problem? I think there is.
An infallible predictor predicts
your inferences in the following situation. You see a film of two coins being
tossed. One of them – coin A – comes down heads ten times in a row, and the
other – coin B – is roughly even H/T. You have to come to a conclusion about
the eleventh toss, which has occurred and whose result is hidden from you. The
predictor manipulates your chances of making a true prediction as follows. He
has a collection of coins; some are biased to varying degrees to H or T and
some are fair. All are tossed ten times and the sequences filmed. If the
predictor’s prediction is that you will believe that the eleventh toss of coin
A is heads and that the eleventh toss of coin B is also heads, then the sequence
that you see is chosen so that coin A has a heads-always bias and coin B has a
bias to heads although in the chosen sequence it came down roughly even H/T. If
the predictor’s prediction is that you will believe just that the eleventh toss
of A is heads (and have no belief about that of B) then the sequence that you
see is chosen so that both coin A and coin B are fair. As a result if you are
(infallibly!) predicted to make the more extravagant prediction then at least
part of your prediction is almost certainly true (and the other part has a more
than 50/50 chance). But if you are predicted to make the more modest prediction
then that prediction has just a 50/50 chance of truth. (So the probability of a
true belief in the first case is more than 0.5, and in the second case it is
0.5.) That can be taken as an argument for the 2-coin prediction. But on the
other hand the coins have already been filmed, and whichever ones they are your
belief will be reasonably safe if you predict just one coin and verging on
risky if you predict for two.
Is possibly irrational epistemic extravagance in this case
analogous to possibly irrational practical restraint in the Newcomb situation?
There is certainly a formal similarity, and if you try the case out on your
friends you will find that they are divided on what is the ‘right’ belief to
accept {thank-you
footnote} .
University of Oklahoma
Norman, OK 73019, USA
adammorton@ou.edu
References
Campbell, R
and Sowdon, L 1985. Paradoxes of cooperation and rationality. Vancouver:
University of British Columbia Press.
Cartwright, Nancy 1983. How
the laws of physics lie. New York: Oxford University Press.
Gibbard,
Allan and W Harper 1978. Counterfactuals and two kinds of expected utility. In Foundations
and Applications of Decision Theory, vol I ,ed. Hooker, Leach, and
Mclennen, 125-62. Dordrecht: Reidel.
Reprinted in Campbell and Sowden 1985.
Joyce, James
1999. The Foundations of causal decision theory. Cambridge UK: Cambridge
university press.
Nozick,
Robert 1969. Newcomb’s problem and two principles of choice. In Essays in
honor of Carl G Hempel, ed. Nicholas Rescher, 114-46. Dordrecht: Reidel.
Reprinted in Campbell and Sowden 1985.
Footnotes
David McCarthy points out to me that the example could also be made in
terms of perception. Animals of the first kind have accurate colour vision and
are inclined to make colour judgements even when the light is not adequate.
Animals of the second kind have less accurate colour vision but are inclined to
stick to what is clearly visible. So if you find yourself making a somewhat
unlikely colour judgement you are both straining at the limits of perceptual
knowledge and acquiring ‘evidence’ that your judgement is accurate.
If you want numbers: There are 1000 papers being considered by
each set of referees. The humanities
referees give the label ‘philosophy’ to 100, and accept 100, including 12 they
have so labeled. The social scientists give the label ‘philosophy’ to 10 and
accept 200, including 3 they have so labeled. So overall 0.15 of papers are
accepted but only 0.13 of those labeled ‘philosophy’. But in humanities 0.1 of
all papers are accepted and 0.12 of ‘philosophy’, and in social science 0.2 of
all papers are accepted and 0.3 of ‘philosophy’. (The numbers alone will make
the statistics Simpsonian, but we need to know the causal set-up before we can
make a suitable case out of it.)
I have had invaluable help from James Joyce,
James Bell, and Remy Debes. An audience at Ohio State was very patient when I
bumbled and mangled a central part of the argument.
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