In another post, I mentioned that we don’t know what we don’t know.
This is the central problem in rational deliberation, and why so many people (such as anti-vaxxers) sincerely believe their beliefs are rational. They know what they know, but they don’t know what they don’t know. People have strong beliefs about issues, about which they sincerely believe they are fully informed because all of the places they live for information tell them that they’re right, and those sites provide a lot of data (much of which is technically true), and also provide a lot of information (much of which is technically true). But, that information is often incomplete—out of context, misleading, outdated, not logically related to the policy or argument being proposed.
There is a way in which we’re still the little kid who thinks that something that disappears ceases to exist—the world consists of what we can see.
I first became dramatically aware of this when I was commuting to Cedar Park, or Cedar Fucking Park, as I called it. I saw people talking on their cell phones drift into other lanes, and other drivers would prevent an accident, and the driver would continue with their phone call. They didn’t know that they had been saved from an accident by the behavior of people not on the phone. They thought that they were good at talking on the phone and driving because they never saw themselves in near-accidents. They never saw those near accidents because they were distracted by their conversation.
I have had problems with students who think they’re parallel-processing in class—who think they can be playing a game on their computer and pay attention to class—but they aren’t. We really aren’t as good at parallel-processing as we think. The problem is that the students would miss information, and not know that they had because, like the distracted drivers, they never saw the information they’d missed. They couldn’t—that’s the whole problem.
I eventually found a way to explain it. I took to asking students how many of them have a friend whom they think can safely drive and text at the same time—that, as they’re sitting in the passenger seat, and the driver is texting and driving, they feel perfectly safe. None of them raise their hands. Sometimes I ask why, and students will describe what I saw on the drive to Cedar Park—the driver didn’t see the near-misses. Then I ask, how many of you think you can text and drive safely? Some raise their hands. And I ask, “Do any of your friends who’ve been passengers while you text and drive think you can do it safely?”
That works.
For years, I’ve begun the day by walking the dogs up to a walkup/drivethrough coffee place (in a converted 24-hour photo booth—remember those?), and used to get there very early while it was still dark. There was one barista who didn’t notice me (the light was bad, in her defense). I would let her serve two cars before I’d tap on the window. She would say, “Be patient! I’m helping someone!” She sincerely thought that I arrived at the moment she noticed me, and immediately tapped on the window. It never occurred to her that I was there long before she noticed me.
When I talk to people who live in informational enclaves, and mention some piece of information their media didn’t tell them, they’ll far too often say something along the lines of, “That can’t be true—I’ve never heard that.”
That’s like the bad drivers who didn’t notice the near misses and so thought they were good drivers.
That you’ve never heard something is a relevant piece of information if you live in a world in which you should have heard it. If, however, you live in an informational in-group enclave, that you’ve not heard something is to be expected. There’s a lot of stuff you haven’t heard.
What surprises me about that reaction is that it’s generally an exchange on the internet. They’re connected to the internet. I’ve said something they haven’t heard. They could google it. They don’t; they say it isn’t true because they haven’t heard it.
That they haven’t heard it is fine; that they won’t google it is not. And, ideally, they’ll google in such a way that they are getting out of their informational enclave (a different post yet to be written).
In that earlier post apparently about anti-vaxxers, but really about all of us, I mentioned several questions. One of them is: If the out-group was right in an important way, or the in-group wrong in an important way, am I relying on sources of information that would tell me?
And that’s important now.
If you live in informational worlds that are profoundly anti-Trump, and he did something really right in regard to the covid-19 virus, would you know? To answer: he couldn’t have, or, if he did, it was minor is to say no.
And the answer is also no if you’re relying on the arguments that Rachel Maddow says his supporters are making, as well as on your dumbass cousin on Facebook. Unless you deliberately try to find pro-Trump arguments made by the smartest available people, you don’t.
If you live in a pro-Trump informational world, and Trump really screwed up in regard to the covid-19 virus, would you know? To answer: no, or perhaps there were some minor glitches with his rhetoric is to say no.
And the answer is also no if you’re relying on the arguments that Fox, Limbaugh, Savage and so on say critics of Trump are making, as well as the dumbass arguments your cousin on Facebook makes. Unless you unless you deliberately try to find arguments critical of Trump made by the smartest available people, you don’t.
People are dying. We need to know what we don’t know, and remaining in an informational enclave will make more people die.
You can’t know what you don’t know. You can’t know what you weren’t told. You can’t know what you didn’t notice.