I recently helped my daughter, Carol, move from Dallas to
Bellingham, a small town about an hour north of Seattle. The drive in her fully
loaded 2000 Chevy Cavalier took us four days. One leg of the journey was from
Ft Collins, just north of Denver, to Laramie, a two-lane road not
taken; it skirts around Cheyenne, and takes the driver through a rugged,
western landscape. We caught occasional glimpses of the Rocky Mountains in the
distant clouds, small herds of pronghorn antelope, and sandstone outcroppings,
as we drove.
At one point, Carol said to me . . . but first, since this
post is about critical thinking, let me give a little background to clarify the
significance of the brief comment she made. That background comes from TV,
Disney, the internet, anything that in the 21st Century both
fascinates us and draws us into its little world, and at the same time repels
us by competing with what we see as the “real world.”
Occasionally, and this seems to come up often enough that it
has become a trope, someone will tell the story of going somewhere with a child
or teenager, somewhere spectacular, perhaps the Grand Canyon or the Eifel Tower,
and hear the child say, “Oh, it looks just like TV,” or, “Oh, just like Disney
World.”
This example frustrates us because we think our children are
replacing the reality with the digital--or at least not being dazzled by the
reality because they can no longer seen anything but the digital. On a deeper
level, it frustrates us because it’s an example of linear thinking that fails
to take in context or significance, which in turn disappoints us because we
feel like some of the wonder of the world might be lost.
Now, back to that Chevy Cavalier. At one point, as we passed
a particularly spectacular rock outcropping, Carol said, “You know, I always
thought those fiberglass rocks at Disney World were so fake. Now I realize that
they were really trying to make them look like the real thing.”
This reaction is subtly and significantly different, from
the “Oh, just like . . .” reaction, and gives us an example of how critical
thinking moves beyond linear thinking, even though they might start from the
same place. Notice, first, that linear thinking simply notes similarity. Critical
thinking, on the other hand, notes the similarity, then examines that
similarity for possible reasons. In this case, cause and effect might be a
reason. However, if no reason is found, critical thinking doesn’t manufacture
reasons. In this case, in order for cause and effect to be a
sufficient reason, there must be yet another reason beneath it, that in turn,
can explain cause and effect, yet itself might remain unspoken. And, there is: artists
working for Disney are attempting to recreate natural phenomenon in order to
make visitors feel like they are in another place. From this unstated reason, Carol recognized immediately that there is cause and effect, not simply similarity.
Something else is taking place here, something necessary to
critical thinking, so necessary that I would argue without this, it isn’t
critical thinking: This something else is the revision of (or the possibility of revision of) previously
held beliefs. This necessary aspect of critical thinking can be found in
Carol’s, “I used to think . . ..” What she used to think she would have been
glad to state as a fact before that moment: “Oh, those rocks in the Canada
Pavilion may be impressive, but like all things Disney, they’re just cartoon
versions of the real. They’re anime made from fiberglass. They really shouldn’t
overdo it like that. I’d rather see something more realistic.”
This aspect, the willingness to change our minds, forces us
to recognize an important roadblock to critical thinking: if we don’t want to
change our minds, we don’t need critical thinking; in fact, critical thinking
is positively dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. No matter what we
call it, any kind of thinking that requires us to hold onto what we’ve always
believed, no matter how strong the evidence against that belief, doesn’t
qualify as critical thinking. Critical thinking isn’t simply open to change, it
welcomes change, welcomes the possibility that around every bend in the road, previously
held beliefs may be shattered, or at least revised. And, this is the scariest
thing about critical thinking; it’s precisely why some avoid it at all costs.
* This is precisely what is sought in Hume’s Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.
He asks if it is reasonable to assume that because there are similarities
between something constructed by a human, such as a house, and something in
nature, in fact, nature itself, that this provides sufficient evidence that
what we see in nature has a creator. As in any effective dialogue, the reader
is left to make that decision.
