A rightwinger at a netroots conference has been emphasizing the importance of reason in his work. The videographer unexpectedly asks him what reason feels like. It feels like security, the conservative replies. He had a tough childhood, and embracing reason helped him to get out of the chaos of his life.

The videographer is Edwin Rutsch, whose website on progressive values and empathy is an enticing place I hope to explore. I met Edwin at the Engaging the Other conference, where he was taping people talking about empathy. It turned out we live a block from each other on the same street. So we’ve been getting together. This week he was describing the recent PBS TV series “This Emotional Life.” He praised the series but had one basic criticism of it, that it maintained the fiction, so endemic to our culture, of reason and emotion as somehow opposites. He quoted George Lakoff on the neuroscience of mirror neurons, which shows that in the brain our capacity to reason is literally constructed upon our ability to empathize with other people.

So then Edwin mentioned this moment two years ago when he asked an interview subject what reason felt like. He wishes he had asked a lot more people the same question and is thinking about doing so in the future. “Reason is an emotion,” he said. I replied that I didn’t think it was: it has many emotions associated with it, a different mix for each of us, but to say it’s an emotion suggests that’s all it is. Breaking your arm has many emotions associated with it but isn’t in itself an emotion. Not a very good analogy, and maybe just a kneejerk reaction of someone who is deeply trained to see reason as different from emotion.

And yet that’s not really where I am at. The presentation of ideas that I like best are those that bravely explain what the ideas mean, emotionally, to the person presenting them, and why in terms of their passions and even material interests, they may favor them, or may have resisted adopting them. “Bravely,” because to do that contravenes the notion, fiercely held in traditional academia, that ideas stand alone as logical constructs that are independent of the interests and emotional needs they serve, so that it is not relevant to vulnerably show one’s heart while explaining one’s ideas. Postmodernism is supposed to deconstruct all that, and I can’t claim to be well read in the field, but the most interesting book I have read about it, the one that grabbed me the most, was a memoir that explained how postmodernist ideas served the emotional needs of some of their proponents. I’m not sure that most postmodernists have been as brave as that, but hope I can be proved wrong.

But over to you. What does reason feel like to you? Maybe you could think about it and jot down some answers. That might be a good prelude to telling us if you think this a good and fruitful question to ask. Does it help get at the unnatural split between reason and emotion in our culture?

What does reason feel like to me? So many different things. It can feel like

  • peacefulness, ease, a delicious escape from real life, when I immerse myself in pure reason puzzles. I’m partial to puzzles without words (escape from my wordy life), ones that take all my concentration to the point of excluding everything else, including noise, like the phone ringing. I think they do for me some of what meditation (which I’m not much drawn to) does for some others. I can feel the endorphins kicking in.
  • discomfort, arousing anger or shame, when someone else’s reasonable argument challenges my own deeply held ideas, and I start to think it out with a great deal of resistance.
  • excited pleasure, when I think I’m really getting somewhere. It’s not a feeling of security in the sense of safety within the walls of one’s home, for example, but of pleasure at going into the flux of contradictions and paradoxes, where security rests in being open, in not after all being freaked out by new ideas (see previous bullet), and the pleasure comes with finding new syntheses that make some good provisional sense of things: somehow encompassing both the old knowledge and ideas and the new. This is one of the best feelings in my life, and I am strongly drawn to it, though it’s may be as hard to acquire as that occasional feeling in a long distance race when the pain diminishes and the joy kicks in.

This is not an easy exercise. But it’s interesting to me. Is it to you? Have I described feelings, or states of mind, or thoughts about feelings rather than the feelings themselves? I am intrigued if anyone else wants to comment on what reason feels like to them.


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