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Take for example the Columbus story. Many people believe that Columbus was a hero because he defied the idea of a flat earth. And yet no one has ever seriously believed that the earth was flat. Most of my students reside near the beach, where one can gaze out across the Pacific Ocean and actually see the curvature of the earth. The myth seems to have developed to give recent immigrants pride in the European heritage during the early 20th century, by showing Columbus as an individualistic visionary. The flat-earth story is, in other words, powerful enough to stick. It sticks because Americans feel it is right to succeed in the face of stodginess, to boldly venture out and be proven correct in ones singular mission. The story feels good even though Columbus’ success was based on accident because his own geographic information was, in fact, false.
Similarly, I often read final exams claiming that in today’s society, women are socially and economically on equal footing with men. This is despite clear statistics indicating it isn’t so. It is compelling, and important, for students to believe that we have total equality. It seems emotionally necessary. Most of the white students feel the same way about racism, that it’s an issue of the past. Despite the very real possibility that such a view could prevent people from generating any positive social change, the idea of equality sticks because it is so satisfying.
This modern form of woolly thinking, as Gilovich notes, is simply more comfortable to the mind than actual analysis of the facts. Fewer Americans these days seem to enjoy intellectual activity for its own sake. Regardless of how much we “teach” people to think clearly, and use evidence, it’s much easier for them to express how they feel, which ideas they’ve found compelling, which fit with the concepts they already believe.
Belief seems to be becoming the foundation of thought. Scientific, rational issues, such as global warming or wiretapping, have become areas of belief rather than cogent analysis. I hear people say “do you believe in global warming?” If I believe that two plus two equals five, if that idea is compelling to me, it becomes my foundation for thought on the issue of arithmetic. If I see a movie that shows me that Queen Elizabeth was a closet romantic, or that Achilles had a California accent, or that Hitler was a tragic figure, and I feel these ideas “make sense” to me, it will color my view of history.
Robert Draper’s recent book on the Bush presidency, Dead Certain, indicates that such a belief-based approach can be helpful in running a country — there is no substitute for knowing you are right, even when you’re wrong. Somehow certitude itself is now seen as admirable. The attachment to powerful ideas rather than facts is seen as the moral stand, the righteous position. But it isn’t, at least not in a society based on rational ideas rather than fanaticism.
I am supposed to teach history as a social science, not a set of moral precepts. It makes me wonder whether the ancient Greeks were right, that history is a subject for teaching morality rather than objectivity. I begin to wonder whether it is possible to do both without transforming history into a belief system?]]>
