Changing Our Minds

“Faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof” (John Kenneth Galbraith). So true, isn’t it? Of course, I’d like to think it doesn’t apply to me as much as it likely does. But I know I’m kidding myself.

We see the world in terms of what we believe to be true about it. What’s more, it seems the longer we hold our beliefs, the harder it becomes to change our minds. In the case of long-held beliefs, this means we tend to get especially busy on the proof. Why is that? That’s what this newsletter will explore. And, yes, there will be a link to Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching.

We all like to believe the world is the way we see it. After all, why would we believe otherwise? Beliefs help us make sense of our experience; and we generally like things to make sense. However, I think each belief is like a little investment—and investments can cause trouble. Why? Because the longer we hold an investment, the harder it can become to let go of it even when evidence shows we should do so. (In the financial world, they call this the “sunk cost fallacy”—the evidence being market value, which is conveniently measurable. But I think this same fallacy also applies to how we hold our beliefs even if the reasons are less measurable.)

Basically, if I want the Galbraith quote to apply to me less frequently then I need to be more open to changing my mind. To do this, it helps to be aware of how I tend to protect the investment in my existing set of beliefs. I don’t know about you, but here are three things I can unwittingly do that get in the way of changing my mind.

First, avoid experiencing evidence contrary to my beliefs. This is the head-in-the-sand strategy. The upside is that it works really well, at least in the short term. The downside is that there will likely come a time when it becomes hard to breathe sand.

Second, claim my beliefs are based on evidence but only acknowledge evidence that supports them. This looks a bit better in that I claim to keep my mind more open. But it’s a hollow claim, as my mind is only open to what I already believe. (Psychologists call this “confirmation bias.”) It has the same upside. I get to dodge the work of possibly having to change my mind. The downside is I’m still breathing sand while claiming it’s fresh air.

Third, claim that contradictory evidence is bad. In this case, at least I admit that contradictory evidence exists but I refute it in some way that I find satisfactory to myself. You say it’s good while I say it’s bad. For me, it’s the same upside. I dodge possibly having to change my mind. The downside is I may well be continuing to invest in something that experience (other than mine) suggests is bad.

Here's an example. Let's say I believe the sun actually rises and sets every day. But you tell me the sun doesn’t really rise; instead the earth spins on its axis. Hmm, is one of us going to change our minds? Well, that depends on how open-minded we are.

In this case, if my criterion for believing things is that they provide a good explanation for lots of observable data, then your belief does a much better job than mine. Okay, so I’ll change my mind. I now believe that the earth spins on its axis. I changed my mind. It can be done.

Does Lao Tzu have anything to say about this? “In the pursuit of knowledge, every day something is added. In the practice of the Tao, every day something is dropped” (chapter 48). I think he’s telling me I’ve successfully added to my pile of knowledge. But he’s also telling me that if I think I’m practicing the Tao, then I’m not. So if this is what I want to do, then knowledge accumulation is not the way to go.

Hmm, let’s see what a good practitioner of the Tao does. “Therefore the Master concerns himself with the depths and not the surface, with the fruit and not the flower. He has no will of his own. He dwells in reality, and lets all illusions go” (chapter 38). What’s that all about?

I think Lao Tzu is saying many of our beliefs, investments, and sunk costs, are “superficial.” They are the “flower.” I think he’s politely calling them “illusions.” “Reality” lies in the “depths,” the “fruit.” That’s why the Master dwells there. I don’t think he’s denying that many of our beliefs are useful for all practical, everyday purposes, i.e., flowers are fine as far as they go. I think he’s simply telling us that they don’t go very far.

Let’s see where this leads. What if practical, everyday purposes are not all there is? In our experience, everything seems to change. What if there’s an eternal reality that does not change? What if that eternal reality is bigger than anything our mind can grasp? Is this why “the Master concerns himself with the depths and not the surface”? When he “lets all illusions go” is this the eternal reality he dwells in?

I think Lao Tzu is not talking about me changing my mind. He’s talking about setting my mind aside altogether. Only then can I become aware of an eternal reality that does not change. And that, says Lao Tzu, is the place to dwell.

Okay. So here’s what I’ve learned. Being open and willing to change my mind is not the same as setting my mind aside. And there’s a time for each of them. Let’s summarize.

Keeping my mind open... In my practical everyday world, it makes sense to pursue knowledge because it's useful. (I can boldly predict that the sun will rise tomorrow.) The best way to navigate this world is to keep an open mind, i.e., be willing to change it.

Setting my mind aside altogether... Lao Tzu suggests that my practical, everyday world is not in fact all there is. It is superficial and full of flowers, as it were. It is also continually changing. Beneath it all (and including it all) is an eternal reality that does not change. He says “For lack of a better name, I call it the Tao” (chapter 25). This is the “depth” where the Master dwells. The best way to become aware of this eternal reality is not to keep my mind open; it is to set it aside altogether—to drop the pursuit of knowledge. At least, from time to time.

How often we assume the everyday world (in which we all obviously live) is all there is. We typically spend a lot of time pursuing knowledge. And we can do a good job of accumulating it as long as we keep our minds open to change. In other words, when “faced with the choice between changing one's mind and proving that there is no need to do so” we can resist the urge to get busy on the proof. However, if we’re curious to know where the Master dwells, then the answer is not obvious—and our mind is not the tool for finding out.

Well, that was an interesting ride. I thought it would be about changing our minds (as the title of this newsletter suggests). Did I change my mind? I don’t know, but I think we ended up somewhere interesting.

How about you? Did the opening Galbraith quote strike a nerve? Have you found good ways to keep your mind open and less protective of its belief investments? And what about setting it completely aside from time to time? Over to you.

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Thanks for reading. Please feel free to share this newsletter.

Francis

IN OTHER NEWS...

Past newsletters are here: www.francispringmill.com/newsletter-archive

In Harmony with the Tao: A Guided Journey into the Tao Te Ching is available here. There Is No Somewhere Else: Insights from the Tao Te Ching is available here.

Synopses and reviews for both books are on www.francispringmill.com/books

If you have enjoyed my books and have a spare couple of minutes, I'd love it if you could leave an Amazon review so more people can discover them. (The customer review link for In Harmony with the Tao is here, and for There Is No Somewhere Else is here.)