Skip to content
Home » morality » On becoming an elf and the difference between philosophy & psychology, with music

On becoming an elf and the difference between philosophy & psychology, with music

difference between philosophy and psychology

I am giving serious thought to becoming an elf.  “Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.”  So responds Frodo when Gildor tells him that it is said “do not meddle in the affairs of wizards…”  This is shortly after the hobbits’ first encounter with the Black Riders.  Gildor replies: “Elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.

Advice is an opinion on what someone else should do or believe. Opinions are only opinions, not hard fact, and yet may be interpreted as such, against the intent of the opinionator one who offers the advice or opinion.   Opinions, even if spoken in jest, are open to gross misconstruction.

Philosophy:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kn481KcjvMo

At the University of Oklahoma (and probably most universities), faculty meet to discuss the department’s graduate students at the end of each year (and after the first semester for first year students, and probably any problem cases).  At some point over the summer, every graduate student gets an envelop stuck in his or her cubbyhole with the results.  I remembered to pick mine up a few days ago.  It was pretty standard, no glowing praise nor harsh criticism. It felt pretty much like a form letter, just as the past year’s did.  That is, until I read this Sentence:

Faculty members did want to encourage you to work on ensuring that the opinions you offer in class and other interactions are supported by scientific evidence.”

Uh huh.  Everyone needs to work on this one, so why me, now?  Whom have I offended?  Because it’s hard to believe that this sentence would appear if I had not at some point given offense.  

Let me admit right away that this is not entirely surprising, as I have an evil-me that has a hard time resisting irony, sarcasm, puns, double entendre, and other things that may be occasionally misinterpreted.  The evil-me emerges with more frequency when I am bored in class.  It happened when I was 6, and it’s still happening decades later.  As an adult, I have tried not to do this with people who, shall we say, are very literal-minded, less fond of verbal challenge, or sensitive about teasing (or all of the above).  But there are times when I just cannot resist the perfect quip.

Psychology:

Now, I am assuming that this primarily refers to classroom discussion, because I do not interact that much with faculty members outside of class (except my adviser, and other mentors, and they have healthy egos).  The “and other interactions” is a bit of a mystery I’ll come back to.  I am usually the most vocal in all my classes (there is one other person in my cohort who is just as happy to take a risk by opening his mouth as I am.  I need to ask if he’s received the same Sentence in his evaluation, though I doubt it because he is less likely to be sarcastic.)

Just to be clear, I believe in evolution and global warming, I vaccinate my children and animals, and I know that the Holocaust happened, the American Civil War was about slavery, and Obama was born in Hawaii.  (As I read the Sentence, I thought of this recent column: No, it is not your opinion.  You’re just wrong.)  I’m undecided about free will, God(s), fairies, TARDIS, parallel universes, Many Worlds, black helicopters, time travel, and teleportation… although I do have malleable, more or less substantiated opinions about them all.

In support of the belief in God(s):

So, class.  Like I’ve mentioned, I speak in class.

When a professor asks a question (especially in a statistics class), there is almost always a long silence while I wait to see if anyone else says anything.  I know that there are at least a few people who not only know the answer, but have more knowledge about the topic than I do.  So I wait… but, if no one speaks up, I start feeling sorry for the professor.  Even if I do not know the answer, I give one.  I am wrong frequently enough to feel a bit–but not too–stupid.  Sometimes I am very wrong, but I really don’t think anyone is going to tell me to make sure my opinions are supported by scientific evidence because of this… After all, these aren’t opinions so much as best guesses as to the correct procedure.  And few people are bothered by others displaying their own ignorance.

In other classes, I also try to wait to see if anyone else wants to speak first.

Sometimes this is very difficult, because I have an opinion (or can offer someone else’s opinion) about most topics covered, because I almost always do the reading and come prepared to class, and because I hate it when no one is willing to respond to a prompt made by the professor.  Occasionally I have nothing to say about something, and won’t say anything unless no one else does… But in the face of silence, I am always ready to go out on a limb.  In these cases, I qualify my remarks (e.g., stating I have read very little on topic, or have not thought about it–this in philosophy is a valid reason not to open my mouth) especially when it comes to academic matters.  Or I say nothing.  If it’s clinical psychology, for instance, I’ve got very little to say, because I know next to nothing about it.

Psychology:

When I asked a professor who was in the evaluation meeting about the Sentence, he said, first, that it was something we all needed to work on (my first thought too) and second, that one should always have more than one source… Also true, and I do this consistently in my papers.  Speaking in class however, I may not have a list of sources to cite off the cuff.  Or, most likely, I will say something like “the CCARE research group at Stanford” or “Kohlberg and acolytes”  (oops, maybe that could get me in trouble) or “Seligman’s positive psychology group” .. but that really isn’t that bad.  Maybe it’s different at other universities, but in the OU psych department, of the graduate students who speak in class, only a small proportion is ready with even a loose citation.

Important note:  

I am talking about my experience as a (research) psychology graduate student.  It is important, when stating an opinion, to be able to cite some source.  Sometimes it feels like being able to cite someone is more important than being able to understand a concept or proffer a coherent argument.  Some people are more willing to accept a weak, well-cited argument than a strong one offered on the basis of logical thought.  OK OK, I am one of those, when it comes to student papers.  Professional papers tend to ensure everything is well-cited.  But in classroom discussion, I am not so picky.  I’d rather hear passionate, well-reasoned arguments than lukewarm repetitions of someone else’s oft-cited opinion.

My blog on Expertise and Risk-taking in grad school

Philosophy:

Philosophy is an entirely different experience.  

In philosophy classes, the logic of one’s argument is valued, and students are expected to go out on a limb.  Of course, you also need to know whose opinions you’re echoing… Nothing is new, and quoting Kant without attribution makes a person look ignorant.  Still, there is less reliance on “scientific evidence” than in psychology, for better and worse.  When it comes to classroom dynamics, and encouraging students to join the discussion, it is much better.  As a friend told me today, with reference to the Sentence, if students were expected to be able to cite their sources every time they spoke in class, most would never open their mouths.  Of course, many psych students would never open their mouths in a philosophy class either, because while lack of multiple-study citation is unlikely to be noted, a poor argument is likely to be countered immediately, in no uncertain terms.

Many psychologists and psych students have told me they hate philosophy.

I chalk it up to their never having had a decent philosophy class.  How can anyone hate philosophy when it’s taught well?   But then, maybe some people just do not like logic, argument, and lively discussion.  I’ve never felt like I needed to temper my speech or soften my arguments in a philosophy class. I’ve never had to explain my logic (in fact, I’ve had to have LOGIC explained to me).  I have, of course, had my faulty logic pointed out, and my arguments shot down.

That’s okay, that’s how I learn.  Of course, I’ve also had my arguments shot down in psychology classes.  My thesis chair at Humboldt State loved to do this to me, especially when I was giving a presentation.  It makes presenting so much more exciting.  And in statistics I regularly find myself being corrected (I blame other students who know more than I do yet refuse to speak up for this.).  But… too often I feel like I must temper my words, speak gently (and always politically correctly), give others the chance to speak first, and never ever shoot down their arguments.

I do miss philosophy. (About me)

And it seems like even though I have tried to speak gently, I have managed to offend someone.  Ah well.  I wish I could say that I will henceforth not speak in class, but then I’d fall asleep, and that’s probably even worse.

Have a list of sources for each opinion likely to be solicited by the professor?  Too much work.  Be extra careful about offering an opinion?  Yes.

Psychology:

Ah that all opinions were supported by scientific evidence.  Not sure this isn’t a bit of a… well.  

Wiki definition of opinion:

“In general, an opinion is a judgment, viewpoint, or statement about matters commonly considered to be subjective.”  

My dictionary:

“a belief or judgment that rests on grounds insufficient to produce complete certainty” or “a personal view, attitude, or appraisal”. (Dictionaryreference.com has the same definition, they probably copied Webster’s).

Of course, if I were a medical doctor, I’d have to be more careful with my professional opinions.  As it is, well, I don’t have any professional opinions, because I am not technically a professional anything, except maybe a writer, since I have published and been paid for it.  (Academic writers are in a strange position of writing for their profession yet frequently not being paid for it, which leaves them, in equestrian terms, amateurs.)

According to Plato, pretty much everything I profess is opinion, and opinion, even “true opinion” is by its very nature mutable… once it is no longer subject to change, it becomes knowledge (Meno).  Opinion and knowledge, for Plato, are two separate faculties in pursuit of different goals (Republic).  So by vastly simplifying and ignoring all nuances, no one should be telling me to back up my opinions with scientific evidence. — Oh wait.  Socrates would undoubtedly categorize “scientific evidence” as opinion, not knowledge, and certainly not Truth.

Philosophy and Psychology:

Okay, I am a walking opinion-depository.  There are very few things of which I am certain, and I do not aspire to Know Truth.  Perhaps I should abstain from offering my  opinion, not only out of elvishness, but also because opinion is not knowledge, it can be either true or false (and that, going back to Aristotle too, is the definition of “opinion.”)

I’ve got it now.  When offering opinions in class or other interactions, I need to provide at least two conflicting sources, one supporting its truth, and one supporting its lack thereof.  Because I am fairly confident that my academic opinions at least have been backed up by scientific evidence, this is clearly the problem:  I needed to mention evidence to disprove my opinion.  Thus I will also become an elf, by answering, when asked for advice (my opinion), both yes and no.

God(s), yes and no:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iVYu5lyX5M

I do remember one moment in a great class I took last spring when I offered an “opinion” without citing sources or providing scientific evidence.  We had read the first chapter of The Social Psychology of Morality: Exploring the Causes of Good and Evil. In it, authors Jesse Graham and Jon Haidt mention their Moral Foundations Sacredness Scale (available here).  The scale asks participants to imagine doing a series of (to some) morally repugnant things, and to indicate how much money you would have to be paid to do each. Options: $0 (I’d do it for free); $10; $100; $1000;  $10,000; $100,000; a million dollars; never for any amount of money.

Sample items:
  • “Sign a secret-but-binding pledge to only hire people of your race in your company.”
  • “Sign a piece of paper that says “I hereby sell my soul, after my death, to whoever has this piece of paper.”
  • “Get a blood transfusion of 1 pint of disease-free, compatible blood from a convicted child molester.” … I really want to use this scale at some point 😉

My professor opined that the scale was a bad instrument, because $1M was not much money (& etc.), because she’d made more than $1M over the past x years, and had very little to show for it.  I said it sure seemed like plenty of money to me, because $1M at once was a different story, and I could turn $1M into $2M dollars in a short time (I believe I said 5-7 years).  The professor replied that this was impossible, and (I had no scientific evidence so) the discussion went down a more appropriate path.

I’d love to have $1M to test my hypothesis.

and because it’s summer:

1 thought on “On becoming an elf and the difference between philosophy & psychology, with music”

  1. Pingback: Why do successful people commit suicide? In memory of Dr. Ben Shaffer

Leave a Reply