Procrastination, Laziness, And Modern Society

While procrastination, like most human behaviors, is certainly nothing new, there is something seemingly “modern” about it. In a fast-paced and complex society in which people are doing far more than the bare minimum to get by, holding off on our various responsibilities definitely stands out: there are tests to study for, jobs to work, errands to run, things to pay, and so on.

People have always been busy of course, as day-to-day survival obviously takes work. But nowadays we’re bombarded with a lot more than gathering food or firewood. Modern civilization is complex, and even recreational and leisurely activities are daunting in their variety and sense of necessity.

To be sure, I’m not lamenting the fact that we have more opportunities than ever for entertainment, comfort, and the like — for the most part, that’s a good thing. Nor am I suggesting that we go back to the seemingly simpler times of tribal, hunter-gatherer existence. It’s just that every era brings with it new challenges and concerns, and every progressive development, no matter how positive in many respects, has certain caveats.

For example, there’s been much discussion about the so-called “tyranny of choice,” in which our minds our overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options and stimuli available, and subsequently we become more tired, indecisive, stressed out, and even depressed.

But to go back to the original point, what does this have to do with procrastination? Well, all these demands have raised the bar of what society expects from us, such that (in America at least) a strong work ethic is seen as a paramount quality. One’s social and personal worth is dependent on one’s socioeconomic status, and that in turn is still widely seen as deriving from hard work and personal responsibility. Those who are regarded as lazy procrastinators are anticipated to be failures in life; conversely, “failures” —  e.g. those who are poor or fail to conform to the standards of our materialistic consumer society — have their shortcomings attributed to laziness.

Now, setting aside the complex and systemic reasons why hard work no longer seems to promote upward mobility like it once did, something needs to be set straight: procrastination is not laziness, and the strong desire to put a pause on life and relax is not evidence of self-entitlement, poor work ethic, or some sort of moral decay. There are good reasons to be “lazy” and deep psychological and social motivations that need to be considered…starting with understanding the distinction between procrastination and laziness.

David Cain of Thought Catalog wrote an excellent piece that explains this phenomenon perfectly. While I encourage you to read the article in its entirety, the following excerpt is what stood out most for me:

It turns out procrastination is not typically a function of laziness, apathy or work ethic as it is often regarded to be. It’s a neurotic self-defense behavior that develops to protect a person’s sense of self-worth.

You see, procrastinators tend to be people who have, for whatever reason, developed to perceive an unusually strong association between their performance and their value as a person. This makes failure or criticism disproportionately painful, which leads naturally to hesitancy when it comes to the prospect of doing anything that reflects their ability — which is pretty much everything.

But in real life, you can’t avoid doing things. We have to earn a living, do our taxes, have difficult conversations sometimes. Human life requires confronting uncertainty and risk, so pressure mounts. Procrastination gives a person a temporary hit of relief from this pressure of “having to do” things, which is a self-rewarding behavior. So it continues and becomes the normal way to respond to these pressures.

Certainly, the above reasons don’t apply to every case, nor should we excuse genuine laziness. There are many other theories and explanations regarding the psychology origins of procrastination  But this is something to consider, and it definitely applies to a large number of people (if not everyone at some point).

Ultimately, the difference between laziness and procrastination seems to come down to the motivations and thought processes that guide the former: procrastinators tend to be artists, writers, or others who feel they have better things to do with their time — things that, unfortunately, don’t provide an income and/or may not be respectable. The same reasoning may apply to, say, athletes or the vocationally-inclined, who have no interest in academic pursuits — in grades, tests, and industrial-style education — but who excel at doing what they love, even if it’s central to their overall curriculum (if measured at all).

For those who fear the next step — particularly those with anxiety — procrastination can be their only respite. In this fast-paced world, I can see the temptation for people to, in essence, put a pause on life. Society has changed so much and so quickly, even within the short lifetimes of the young. It can be overwhelming to conform to these social norms that nobody individually seems to like or choose, yet everyone feels pressured to follow (this in turn leads to a whole other sociological tangent about the nature of society and such).

I’m anticipating that people will react to skepticism at this argument, namely that it gives an excuse to laziness. But I think it’s important to see the distinction as far as the reasons, and to consider what the implications are.

There is a lot of evidence that sleeplessness, stress, and depression are growing problems in our society; that young people, especially, are in for a raw deal as far as longer work hours, lower pay, and higher costs of living; and that people with relatively more idle times on their hands are starting to reach existential crises much earlier in life (anecdotally-speaking, I’ve seen a number of teenagers already begin questioning the purpose of their lives, acknowledge the primacy of death, and muse about other hard “adult” concerns — although I’m told this may not be anything new, just more noticeable).

With these trends, one has to wonder whether procrastination will become some sort of widespread characteristic of modern society. Will the stresses and pressures of civilization lead more and of us to shut down, pursue escapism, and otherwise come into conflict with the wider world around us? What do you think?

I’d weigh in further but, ironically, I’m procrastinating at work as we speak by writing this post…

Can You Change Your Mind?

We all have beliefs and opinions that will likely remain unchanged no matter what counter-evidence is brought to our attention. This is actually typical of all humans, since our politics, faith, values, and views are shaped by psychological and social conditions that are largely outside of our control (and usually unnoticed in their influence).

Yet every one of us will claim that our beliefs are based on sound reasoning and facts — in contrast to our opponents, of course. In that case, we should ask ourselves the following: what would it take for me to accept my opponent’s beliefs? What sort of proof would I need to discard my deeply held views?

If you can’t find any reason why you should think differently, then in essence you’re admitting that your views are purely visceral rather than evidence-based. Either change the basis of what you believe — i.e. try to find evidence for it, and discard it in the absence of said evidence — or admit that your beliefs have nothing to do with reality or rationality, but are instead the result of unthinking emotional or psychological attachment.

If we’re going to take up a belief or opinion based on “gut instinct,” faith, or whatever else you want to call it, then we might as well be honest, recognize it, and not hold it against others if they don’t see eye to eye with our views (after all, if said belief is based on personal feelings, rather than something objectively measurable, then you can’t expect everyone else to agree).

Also, there’s no harm in saying “I don’t know” or “I believe this based only on what I know.” It’s honest and it represents a fact of life: not everything is knowable to everyone.

To the best of my ability I try to hold myself to these standards. Otherwise, I leave it to others to call me out.

Does eroding belief in free will cause cheating? Failure to replicate a famous result.

Reblogged from Why Evolution Is True:

In his essay written for receiving the Erasmus Prize, "Erasmus: Sometimes a Spin Doctor is Right", Dan Dennett argues that the idea that free will is merely an illusion—an idea promulgated by bad people like Sam Harris and me—is deleterious to society:

There is—and has always been—an arms race between persuaders and their targets or intended victims, and folklore is full of tales of innocents being taken in by the blandishments of sharp talkers.

Read more… 1,965 more words

Very interesting study and blog post. The way I see it, there's never been much in the way of empirical evidence suggesting that a belief in free will leads to better behavior. Many societies have had such beliefs for centuries, and that hardly did much to minimize the immorality that ran rampant. People will always find some way to rationalize their immoral acts, with or without some greater concept of free will.

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Download Walter Kaufmann’s Lectures on Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Sartre & Modern Thought (1960)

For anyone who loves these philosophers, or philosophy in general, or who is simply curious. Click the link and enjoy some of the best lectures on these subjects you’re likely to find, courtesy of the great Walter Kaufmann. Though over 50 years old, these talks are still highly regarded and well worth a listen.

You just have to love the culture of open exchange and all the wonderful treasures it reaps.

Reflection on Atheist Identity

The label “atheist” is so odious and stigmatized that even many atheists themselves shun it (admittedly, myself included sometimes). Interestingly, most national polls report a higher number of people who “don’t believe in God” than people who explicitly identify as “atheists” (usually by a margin of 2 to 1). The position of non-belief is less disquieting to the irreligious than the term used to describe it – the quaint result of generations of demonization, condemnation, and prejudice. The negative connotation of atheism is so pervasive across the public consciousness that not even the godless themselves can shake it off and be at ease with it.

Improving Our Education System

There is no shortage of proscriptions for how to improve our deficient public education system – indeed, there are probably more solutions given then there are efforts to actually implement them.

But this video, courtesy of RSA, is by far one of the best. Speaker Sir Ken Robinson, a noted education reformer, offers some pretty interesting observations and ideas regarding how to better teach young people, which includes (as I’ve long argued) changing the cultural and society attitudes that structure educational policy. Much of what he says has been expressed by other reformers as well, which suggests that there is a pretty solid consensus on what needs to be done (although not necessarily how it needs to be done).

As to be expected, these aren’t going to be quick or easy to implement – it’ll likely take much time and a multidimensional approach – but we can’t afford to ignore the problem for much longer. See the video, or check out his website to judge for yourselves. At the very least, there’s a conversation going.

Rationally Religious

Jared Diamond, a polymath with a number of professions and specialists, has written a new piece in Salon about religion titled “Jared Diamond: It’s irrational to be religious.” It’s an excerpt from his latest book, The World Until Yesterday: What Can We Learn from Traditional Societies?, which I haven’t yet read, but certainly plan to (his most well-known book, and the one that introduced me to him, was Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fate of Human Societies).

Diamond, who is an atheist that regards religion as mere superstition, nonetheless raises some fair academic questions about the origins and character of religion – namely, why do religious beliefs take the particular form that they do, and why do they seem so compelling to the majority of the human species?

It’s a question I often ask myself as well, given the universal prevalence of religion even to this day (albeit a prevalence that is both waning and altering in its character). I know that religious people aren’t simply stupid or crazy (at least not all of them, though that could be said of many secularists as well), and that like most human phenomena, there are complex reasons for it.

Diamond’s conclusion, which others have postulated as well, is that religion serves a sociological and psychological purpose: it is a form of bonding through group solidarity, a way of maintaining community and cooperation, which are vital to our survival as a social species.

The more of one’s life is wrapped up with one’s group, the more crucial it is to be able to identify group members correctly and not to be deceived by someone who seeks temporary advantage by claiming to share your ideals but who really doesn’t. If that man carrying a Boston Red Sox banner, whom you had accepted as a fellow Red Sox fan, suddenly cheers when the New York Yankees hit a home run, you’ll find it humiliating but not life-threatening. But if he’s a soldier next to you in the front line and he drops his gun (or turns it on you) when the enemy attacks, your misreading of him may cost you your life.

That’s why religious affiliation involves so many overt displays to demonstrate the sincerity of your commitment: sacrifices of time and resources, enduring of hardships, and other costly displays that I’ll discuss later. One such display might be to espouse some irrational belief that contradicts the evidence of our senses, and that people outside our religion would never believe. If you claim that the founder of your church had been conceived by normal sexual intercourse between his mother and father, anyone else would believe that too, and you’ve done nothing to demonstrate your commitment to your church. But if you insist, despite all evidence to the contrary, that he was born of a virgin birth, and nobody has been able to shake you of that irrational belief after many decades of your life, then your fellow believers will feel much more confident that you’ll persist in your belief and can be trusted not to abandon your group.

One thing to add is that such rituals and norms won’t bond you to your group unless 1) you believe that others genuinely believe them and 2) you also sincerely believe.  There’s no genuine sense of bonding if you follow these rituals simply to conform to the social and religious norms around you.

Accounts from “closet atheists” – among whom are clergy – reveal that they continue to publicly conform to these beliefs largely to avoid being ostracized (or worse), but no longer feel any sincere sense of connection or solidarity. Similarly, people will often drop out of their congregation, if not abandon organized religion entirely, largely because they perceive their coreligionists to insincere, due to demonstrations of hypocrisy or duplicity.

Perhaps this also explains (partly at least) why heretics, apostates, blasphemers, and others who don’t toe the religious line are are usually met with repression or even death: they undermine the social cohesion that is so vital for maintaining order (or consolidating the power of ruling elites, whose relationship with organized religion was close, if not intertwined).

Obviously, this religiously-based social cohesion can have beneficial results as well, especially in helping to respond to individual or community tragedies. Religion’s help to maintain the institutional and organizational framework that helps facilitate everything from charity or even job searches (indeed, in many small towns and communities, the church is the center of cultural, political, and economic life). This is why many atheists nonetheless see religions as practical, or at the very least acceptable, even if they don’t agree with them. Of course, the potential for abuse is always there, as history has shown time and again.

Anyway, Diamond goes on to note another key reason for religion’s potency:

Nevertheless, it’s not the case that there are no limits to what can be accepted as a religious supernatural belief. Scott Atran and Pascal Boyer have independently pointed out that actual religious superstitions over the whole world constitute a narrow subset of all the arbitrary random superstitions that one could theoretically invent. To quote Pascal Boyer, there is no religion proclaiming anything like the following tenet: “There is only one God! He is omnipotent. But he exists only on Wednesdays.” Instead, the religious supernatural beings in which we believe are surprisingly similar to humans, animals, or other natural objects, except for having superior powers. . . Hence it doesn’t surprise me that gods in many religions are pictured as smiting evil-doers, but that no religion holds out the dream of existing just on Wednesdays. Thus, religious supernatural beliefs are irrational, but emotionally plausible and satisfying. That’s why they’re so believable, despite at the same time being rationally implausible.

This reminds me of surveys (none of which I could locate at the moment) that asked individuals the reasons they “found” religion after having previously been secular. In most instances, they cited emotional or psychological factors: a traumatic experience, a purported miracle, the need for a sense of purpose or longing, and so on. Indeed, I’ve encountered such motivations through my many engagements with religious believers of all persuasions.

It reminds me of the correlation between high rates of religiosity in a given society, and a higher prevalence of crime, poverty, violence, and other socioeconomic ills. If one looks at the majority of the world’s most prosperous and stable nations, they are relatively more secular than the global average; conversely, nearly all of the world’s most impoverished and politically troubled countries demonstrate higher rates of piety.

This pattern can be seen in the US as well, with the deeply religious states of the “Bible Belt” typically recording far higher rates of crime, poverty, and so on than the more secular states of the Northeast and Northwest. Basically, the parts of the world in which people have less to worry about – in terms of money, civil liberties, personal safety – tend to be less religious. Secularism (and to a lesser extent atheism) rises in conjunction with individual and societal prosperity. There are exceptions of course, and this is merely a trend, not an iron rule. But it’s something to consider.

Obviously, the reasons for human social dysfunction (like that of all of our behavior) are very complex, but this relationship between piety and one’s socioeconomic or psychological conditions – both individually and socially – suggests that religion’s serve some sort of practical role as a source of comfort, purpose, and community (the last of which also gives us comfort). This also helps to explain why religion is so universal in our species, and why religions often alter in conjunction with economic and political developments (for example, more organized and politically developed civilizations tend to have more organized religions).

On a more personal level, this explains why my atheism was more comforting following my adoption of a secular humanist framework. Atheism in itself offers little to nothing to work with – it’s merely the absence of religion, and to have no religion is one thing, but to have no purpose or guiding principles is another. Embracing secular ethics and guidelines – and the growing community of those who share them – has served as my substitute to supernatural religion. It’s not for everyone, but it suits me just fine.

A Short Overview of Kantian/Deontological Ethical Theory

Kantian ethical theory is one of several moral/ethical theories that provide the following: 1) a method for deriving moral rules and guidelines and 2) a justification and criteria for evaluating the moral value of particular human actions.

So like cultural relativism, which was discussed beforehand, the Kantian theory of ethics seeks to establish an organized approach to how morality is formed and how various actions can be judged and analyzed in terms of their moral legitimacy. As we will see, however, there are vast differences between the two methodologies.

Kantian ethical theory is named after its founder, Immanuel Kant, an 18^th century German thinker of the Enlightenment Age. It is important to keep in mind the context in which Kant formulated his ethical theory. During this optimistic time period, there emerged a strong belief in the ability of human reason to help understand the world and solve its various problems – including ethical ones.

Thus, Kant sought to establish an approach to morality that would be reason-based. Indeed, Kant believed that to be ethical is to be perfectly rational, and that the most rational behavior is naturally the most ethical one. He also believed that behaving morally was a matter of obligation for which there could be no exception or loophole – hence the emphasis on rules rather than on consequences.

For this reason, the Kantian approach to morality is classified as a type of Deontological ethical theory. Derived from the word deon, which is Greek for duty, this ethical theory holds that there is an innate aspect to a given moral rule that makes it either good or bad. Put another way, it judges the morality of an action not on, say, its consequences or utility, but on said action’s adhere to a rule or set of rules.

Thus, Kantian/Deontological ethical theory is based around established rules and guidelines, and as such, considers morals to be unconditional, obligatory, and universal. So it is best defined as a rules-based or duty-based system of ethics. For a Kantian ethicist, the ends of an action never justify the means; rather, it is the action itself that is intrinsically good or bad. We can’t control consequences anyway, since there is no telling whether a particular action will lead to the intended results.

Categorical and Hypothetical Imperatives
But what does it mean to have a moral system that is obligatory and rules-based? Keep in mind that Kant is not trying to create any moral rules himself. He’s not directly telling us what is good or bad. Rather, he wants to establish a universal method for determining what is moral. Basically, he’s giving a way to test the legitimacy of other moral rules and actions.

The core of this approach is something known as the categorical imperative. This is a command or recommendation of action that is completely absolute. For example, “you should never lie” or “you should always keep your promises.” Kant contrasts this with the hypothetical imperative, which is a dictate that is based around certain conditions or desires. An example of this would be, “you ought to tell the truth if you want people to trust you, or if you want to be a good person.” A hypothetical imperative usually contains keywords such as “ought,” “should,” or “if” in order to connect the command to a particular condition or motive; categorical imperatives have no such considerations: basically, it’s “you ought to do something, period.”

Intuitively, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with believing that you should tell the truth for the sake of winning people’s trust. After all, this appears to be a perfectly rational expectation and motivation, and Kant was all about basing morals on reason. So why does Kantian ethical theory hold that rules must be unconditional in order to be legitimate and rational? What’s so irrational about conditional morals?

The problem is that having one’s actions contingent upon particular conditions builds into them a loophole: if you don’t care about the conditions, you have no reason to follow through with the moral action. If I don’t care whether or not people will trust me or see me as a good person, I have no reason to tell the truth. I’ll only be moral insofar as doing so meets certain relevant desires, circumstances, or environments.

Thus, the categorical imperative obliges us to behave a certain way out of duty, with no other external or ulterior factors in mind. This makes for a more reliable moral system, since it ensures that we do indeed always tell the truth or behave justly no matter what. But what compels us to follow these categorical imperatives? Why should we be good for the sheer sake of it? And how do we determine what should be a categorical imperative?

The Formulations of the Categorical Imperative
Kant’s answer to these questions is based on an appeal to reason: just as hypothetical imperatives ought to be done for certain desires, categorical imperatives ought to be driven by rational considerations. The first formulation, or principle, for determining whether an act is morally permissible is as follows:

Act only according to that maxim by which you can, at the same time, will that it should become a universal law

In other words, when you’re considering doing something, ask yourself the following:

1)      What rule would you be following were you to go through with the act? This would be the “maxim” or guideline for said action.

2)      Would you be willing to have this rule become universal law, to be practiced by everyone else around you at all times?

If the action you’re considering meets these requirements, then you’ve devised a categorical imperative – a sound moral rule for which you must oblige yourself to follow absolutely. If not, however, then this action is not moral and therefore not permissible. So if I’m thinking about making a categorical imperative that states “you ought to lie,” I must measure it against the first formulation: would this be a maxim that I’d want to become universal? Would I want to live in a world were everyone has a duty to be dishonest in every circumstance? If I’m a reasonable person, I would most certainly be opposed to this.

The second formulation of the categorical imperative states the following:

Act so that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in that of another, always as an end and never as a means only.

What this basically means is that we should treat people as intrinsically valuable. Indeed, Kant held that human beings are valuable “above all price,” because unlike objects, a person is irreplaceable. Furthermore, objects can only serves as a means: a car is only valuable insofar as it serves its purpose as a form of transportation. People, however, have an inherent value to them that is beyond serving anyone else’s means. Humans have dignity.

But more importantly, they’re autonomous moral agents: they have free will and the ability to guide their actions. Because we humans are rational agents capable of making our decisions and setting our own goals, we are innately valuable. After all, without humans, there would be no conception of either morality or reason.

It is because of this that we should never be used as mere instruments for another’s ends. People must be respected as the rational, independent actors that they are, and must not be reduced to the roles of objects. Thus, a proper moral action must preclude manipulating someone for the sake of self-interest, or forcing them to commit actions against their will. Hiring someone to fix a problem wouldn’t be a problem given that they’re doing so knowingly and willingly; using a slave to do the task, however, would no doubt violate this formulation and make for an unacceptable moral maxim.

It is interesting to see how Kantian ethical theory would apply to the justice system. Kant would be opposed punishing someone to deter criminal behavior because he doesn’t deal in consequences and hypothetical scenarios. Recall that for the Kantian, morality is based solely upon the intent of a particular action and whether it comports with a rule – thus, consequences or other considerations don’t matter.

Instead, Kant would approve of punishment for the sake of retribution; rather then correct a criminal’s behavior, this sort of punishment simply addresses a wrong that has already been committed (albeit proportional to the crime, as Kant was keen to clarify). Furthermore, punishing a criminal treats them as an autonomous moral agent – i.e. ends themselves – and to not punish them would treat them as objects that have no self-guiding morals. In a sense, retributive justice acknowledges the criminal’s human dignity.

Pros and Cons of Kantian Ethical Theory
Kant put a lot of thought into his ethical theory, and he established a rather sophisticated universal methodology for determining proper morality. Even so, like any ethical theory, it has its strengths and weaknesses.

Among the greatest attribute of Kantian ethical theory is its consistency: because this theory is rules-based and absolute, it requires us to be consistent in our morality. Recall that the first formulation of the categorical imperative obliges us to follow rules only if we’d want everyone else to do so too. Similarly, if one accepts considerations as reasons to do (or not do) something in one case, then you must accept those reasons in others. To quote James Rachels, “moral reasons, if they are valid at all, are binding on all people at all times.” All this makes for a moral system that is as stable as it is rational.

On the other hand, this same absolutism is a major weakness as well, for it leads to a possible conflict of rules. What happens when we face a scenario that forces us to choose between two or more obligatory moral rules? Consider the two imperatives “never tell a lie” and “never allow innocents to die if you can help it.” Within the Kantian framework, both these moral rules would be unconditional.

But what happens if, during Nazi-era Germany, you’re secreting harboring Jews and the Gestapo come knocking on your door? In this instance, you’d be forced to choose between lying or letting innocent people die, thereby violating one rule by virtue of choosing another. Absolutism in such circumstances can be very troubling and arguably irrational: shouldn’t a rule be broken if following it would lead to harmful consequences?

Furthermore, Kant underestimates the importance of taking consequences into account when considering an action. He believed that we could never be certain of the results of our actions, whether they’re well-intended or not. But is this realistically applicable to all scenarios? Aren’t there certain cases where we could be pretty sure of the consequences? Moreover, Kant suggests that regardless of the consequences of our actions, what matters is our intention and adherence to an unconditional rule. But could we really be blameless if we commit an act that we’re reasonably sure would lead to more harm than good, even if we were being consistent in our morality?

Ultimately, while Kantian ethical theory provides some crucial moral insights, it also seems ill-suited to deal with the complex reality of many ethical problems.

 

Hotel Rwanda and Just War Theory

Hotel Rwanda is a 2004 American drama film that tells the true story of hotelier Paul Rusesabagina (played by Don Cheadle) and his efforts to save his fellow citizens from the Rwandan Genocide that transpired in the spring of 1994.

The film begins by showing the rising political tensions between the Hutu and Tutsi ethnic groups of Rwanda, which quickly culminates in an outbreak of mass violence and genocide. During the course of these worsening events, Rusesabagina and other protagonists are forced to come to terms with an unprecedented scale of violence, while at the same time trying to do what they can to save hundreds of fellow citizens who have no sanctuary.

Through the resourceful use of his hotel and its supplies, his own personal savvy, and a network of allies, Rusesabagina eventually succeeds in saving his family (which is part Tutsi, the targeted minority) along with over a thousand refugees – albeit not without facing traumatizing circumstances, many close calls, and loss of nearly a million fellow Rwandans by the end of the conflict.

The film explores several ethical, philosophical, and political themes. There is the altruism and moral obligation that Rusesabagina displays towards strangers who are not of his ethnic group (and the subsequent risks he takes to help them), the sense of hopelessness in trying to save lives with few resources and little international support, the moral breakdown of society as Rwandans violent turn on their neighbors and fellow citizens.

Indeed, a recurring element throughout the film was the sense of abandonment and shock felt by the protagonists at the world’s apathy to such a grave moral plight. This is highlighted by the presence of both the Red Cross and United Nations Peacekeepers, both of which are overburdened and unprepared for the crisis – and both of which serve as proxies for the global community. The inability of these organizations to intervene – particularly the peacekeepers, who cannot act without official authorization (which never comes) – serves as a stark reminder of the world’s moral failure. The protagonists are forced to make due with what they can, and to survive overwhelming odds on their own.

One of the central philosophical questions raised by the film – and the real-life genocide it is based on – is whether the UN, United States, and other countries should have intervened militarily to put a stop to the genocide. Would doing so have been just? Or were there good reasons not to?

By my reasoning, military intervention was a moral imperative that should have been undertaken. When analyzing the criteria for a just war, such an intervention fits perfectly: clearly, the cause is just, as hundreds of thousands of innocent people were being massacred by the state and its militias. Rwanda was not in the midst of a civil war pitting two militarized political factions, which would be a comparatively more ambiguous scenario; rather, it was enduring a one-sided slaughter on the scale of genocide.

In this respect, comparative justice would also have been met. Given the scale of death of unarmed civilians, the killing of the genocide’s perpetrators would have been an acceptable cost, especially as the film showed that mere bribery and blackmail was often sufficient to deter the genocide brigades – thus it could be argued that the mere presence of armed troops from foreign nations would serve largely as a deterrence without the need to kill.

As such, both the probability of success and the proportionality of the response would also have been acceptable. As shown in the film, the Rwandan state was very corrupt and susceptible to bribery, and most of the genocide perpetrators were relying on small arms and machetes to carry out their campaign – there were no tanks, plans, or advanced weaponry involved. The element of a single national military (if not several) could easily rout and intimidate such ragtag and corrupt forces.

Furthermore, it should be noted that the United Nations officially holds that the formal recognition of a genocide obligates member states to intervene out of moral duty – cynically, however, this was why many states were not willing to identify what transpired as a genocide, despite clear evidence that a minority group was being explicitly targeted for extermination for its identity (one of the main recognized criterion for a genocide).

The need for a competent authority to lead the effort would also have been easily met. Aside from the governments of various nation states (many of which would ostensibly be developed democracies like the US) mandates and resolutions sanctioned by the UN are viewed in international law as legitimate sources of authority. A UN resolution to permit military action would have sufficed, especially as the UN had already legitimized the presence of peacekeepers in the country through another mandate.

Finally, even taking all these guidelines into account, would intervention have been a last resort? Given that at least some of the perpetrators, including their leaders, were pliable to corruption (albeit only to a point) it’s possible that negotiations or financial bargaining could have been sufficient in stopping the conflict peacefully. But given the presence of extremists willing to kill hundreds of thousands of their fellow citizens, it seems unlikely that there wouldn’t be a need for some degree of military action. Considering the many unarmed, civilian lives at stake, resorting to military intervention would’ve been the least bad option.

So in short, I believe a military intervention to stop the Rwandan Genocide would have been just, given that such an action can follow all the parameters and prerequisites of just war theory.

As for why this genocide began in the first place, it was a convergence of several factors (some of which were explored in the film): mainly, it emerged due to a history of ethnic hostility and rivalry stemming from colonial preferences for the minority Tutsis over the other majority Hutus, the latter of which had their fears of Tutsi domination stoked by opportunists and paranoid extremists. As shown in Hotel Rwanda, economic and political insecurity, a lack of civil society, and rampant corruption only heightened the level of fear and hate that often leads breeds violence. Indeed, every genocide that has ever occurred – including the most infamous one of all – was triggered or intensified by economic, political, and social problems (indeed, the genocide occurred very shortly after a civil war between factions of both ethnic groups). The subsequent mass panic is put upon a minority group with which there are preexisting animosities, and from there violence ensues.

In Defense of Scientific Inquiry

A frequent and erroneous criticism of science is that because it has been used for evil, a scientific worldview is foolish if not dangerous. Commonly cited examples of this abuse include eugenics, social Darwinism, and weapons manufacturing. As the argument goes, being too scientific – be it individually or as a society – will lead us down a corrupt path, perhaps as extreme as the Nazi regime’s goal of a racially pure utopia. Science is cold and calculating, and those who put too much stock into will end up eroding their own moral and ethical fiber. Additionally, this is often presented as the reason why religion is vital, if not superior, to science.

There are many problems with this perception, particularly the notion that science and religion are on the same spectrum (more on that later). While it’s certainly true that science has been manipulated to serve dark ends, those objectives were not the product of scientific inquiry. Racist, murderous, and totalitarian ideologies have always existed, and evil people will always co-opt any institution or system they can to further their aims, whether its religion, politics, or science.

Furthermore, these ideologies tended to be rather unscientific, regardless of what their proponent claimed. Social Darwinism, if one bothers to look at the history of it, was hardly backed up by any scientific evidence (Darwin himself never proposed such a thing, despite the name association). Nazi and eugenicist concepts of race were similarly unscientific, and were at best the product of a misunderstanding of scientific conclusions (and at worst outright nonsense that merely cloaked itself in science for legitimacy).

The most important refutation, however, goes back to my previous mention about science and religion not being comparable. Science is a methodology, not an ideology: there is no creed or dogma from which scientifically-minded individuals can commit atrocities. Science is an instrument, not an institution or belief-system. Plenty of tools are used for evil, but the fault lies with their wielder, not the mechanism itself. We don’t discount the value of automobiles, rockets, or planes just because they’ve been used in warfare.

Non-scientific and irrational motivations are what lead to the misuse of science, not “too much science.” There is simply no such thing. Humans derive their values from all sorts of other places, since science is absent of any principles besides the importance of reason, empiricism, and falibilism (although if we construe it broadly, science can better our values: a commitment to rational thinking, for example, can inform our ethics and morals).

Regardless of how it’s been abused, there’s no denying that scientific inquiry has proven to be the only reliable method of gaining knowledge about our world and universe. The fact that it’s been misapplied or misunderstood is a problem of human nature, not science. Science is constantly evolving, just like the rest of us. Scientists have been wrong plenty of times, and they’ve been guilty of as much immorality and incompetence as anyone else. But the beauty of science is its ability to explore, ask questions, and seek to improve upon itself. Given all the problems our planet faces, we could use more scientific thinking, not less.