Hayek’s Speculative Psychology, The Neuroscience of value Estimation, and the Basis of Normative Individualism

hayek

An extract from the very excellent and versatile (economics and philosophy of mind) Don Ross.

In light of this history, it is not surprising that, as many commentators have noted, The Sensory Order was relatively neglected for a few decades, but has recently enjoyed a wave of scholarly appreciation. Much of this has centered on the ways in which Hayek’s philosophical psychology complements and completes his general model of adaptive complexity (Butos & Koppl, 1996; Horwitz, 2000, 2008; McQuade & Butos, 2005): both minds and markets are path-dependent incremental learning systems and distributed information processors that depend for their efficiency on freedom from executive planning bottlenecks. Thus the resistance of social processes to social engineering is reinforced by a kind of fractal reproduction of a ‘free market’ in information at the scale of the individual mind. Some cognitive scientists (Edelman, 1985; Fuster, 1995) have noted that Hayek’s high-level conception of mental architecture was substantively vindicated long after the fact. Regrettably, however, only occasional philosophers (e.g., Marsh, 2010) have drawn attention to his remarkable anticipation of sensible opinions that their profession spent decades groping toward, namely: that perception and conceptual filtering dynamically influence one another; that implicit procedural and explicit declarative knowledge form an epistemological continuum (Lycan, 1988; Wilson, 2006); that moderate functionalism is a sound view of the mind-brain relationship but radical functionalism that declares the brain irrelevant is nonsense (Clark, 1989); that consciousness is not the central planning commission of the mind (Dennett, 1991); and that Kant was right that categorical preconceptions structure mental experience, while empiricists were right that science can, does, and should ride roughshod over these preconceptions without limit (Humphreys, 2004; Ismael, 2007; Ladyman & Ross, 2007). As Marsh notes, Hayek even anticipated the ‘monochromeMary’ thought experiment (Jackson, 1996) that later distracted philosophers of consciousness (Dennett, 1991, 2006), but he immediately diagnosed its scientific idleness. [Some of the thought experiment’s philosophical proponents recognized the same thing eventually (Jackson, 2003).] No aspect of The Sensory Order is more impressive than its opening and closing philosophical framing, which remains fresh as paint.

Economic methodologists who study The Sensory Order tend to think that this issue is in turn important because the (relative) autonomy of intentional description and explanation is at the heart of the Austrian view of capital and of the principles by which the political economy best flourishes. Such an assumption is among the shared premises, animating lively debates over detailed implications, that is carried on by the authors collected in Butos (2010) when they take up a brief to explicate the significance of The Sensory Order for the study of the social order in both its positive and normative aspects. We might unpack the common premise in more detail as follows. Austrian social theory will enjoy a considerably shrunken pool of potential followers if it is thought to be hostage to the transcendental post-Kantian philosophy of human thought and action developed by von Mises (1966), because this underlying metaphysic of mind is uncongenial to most epistemological naturalists, and thus to most contemporary social scientists. In the current philosophical atmosphere, Austrian methodological and normative theory stands on much firmer ground if a semi-autonomous domain of intentionality is thought to spontaneously emerge from the interactions of brains and their physical environments. Happily (for pro-Austrians), such ideas are now widespread among scientists in a range of disciplines that study complexity. Still more happily, the aspects of this perspective that are derived from principles of neural organization and functioning were clearly and explicitly developed by Hayek in The Sensory Order; so we have evidence that Austrian social theorizing is not merely compatible with emergentist naturalism about intentionality, but is indeed part of its original intellectual context. This view is not wrong; Hayek indeed provides Austrian methodologists with a more satisfactory philosophy of mind than von Mises’s. However, many would be disappointed to think that all The Sensory Order does for them is show them that they don’t have to endorse von Mises’s declaration of independence from empirical behavioral science. I will argue, however, that Hayek’s philosophical psychology fails to provide any stronger support for Austrian economics or economic methodology. Two widespread, and interrelated, assumptions made by Hayek’s apologists have obscured this. First, there is a tendency to take for granted that the (relative) autonomy of intentional patterns from neuroelectrical and neurochemical patterns is directly associated with the (relative) autonomy of individual choices. If this is not the case, then rejection of neuro-reductionist foundations for economics yields no particular implications in favor of Austrian over neoclassical methodology or policy philosophy. Second, there is a tendency to assume that if brains implement distributed neural networks, then relative economic values must be computed by these networks through the sculpting of global vectors of weights in state spaces by conceptually mediated environmental contingencies. This assumption courts potential dialectical disaster, at least in the short run, for Austrian apologists, because the most flourishing current research programme in neuroeconomics is based precisely on denying it.

Iris Murdoch

iris murdoch

This event could be interesting if like me you enjoy the intersection of the philosophical and the literary. Murdoch was of course a paramour of Oakeshott’s (see Bob Grant’s essay) and it is said based the character of Hugo Belfounder from Under the Net on Oakeshott. This is highly contentious and will never be satisfactorily resolved either way – Hugo could be an amalgam of Wittgenstein and Oakeshott. Anyway, her first novel is well worth reading – light and good fun, capturing bohemian London of the fifties.

The work of Iris Murdoch (1919-99) inspires growing enthusiasm and curiosity. Yet perhaps just because of her striking originality, her achievement is hard to place on the cultural map. Is she essentially an academic philosopher, a novelist, or a brilliant but unclassifiable individual thinker? And if we picture her as an iconic ‘woman philosopher’, is this a distraction or a source of insight?

Aaron Swartz: Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?

hacking

Three Economist pieces on AS.

Obituary

Remembering AS

Writing AS’s Obituary

Walker Percy

philosophy and literature

Walker Percy was one of the most influential American writers and philosophers of the 20th century. He is best known for his first novel, “The Moviegoer,” which won the National Book Award in 1962.

Oakeshott: Two New Noël O’Sullivan Articles

oakeshott

The very excellent Noël has kindly made available two new articles that he has written for non-English language journals. Noël is also a contributor to the Companion.

The Gumbo Variations

zappa

Released on the 1970 LP Hot Rats, “The Gumbo Variations” is a studio jam session. A basic drum beat, a wobbling bass line, a simple melodic frame, and the stage was set for the three main soloists of the day. First, Ian Underwood delivers one of the best saxophone solos he recorded for Zappa: crossing over to free jazz, he steals the spotlight for seven whole minutes. Violinist Sugar Cane Harris comes in next, followed by Zappa himself. There you have it: a straightforward rock jam featuring gifted improvisers. Of course, “The Gumbo Variations” is far from the usual material the man put out, but then Hot Rats is not your typical Zappa record. This piece is one of the reasons why so many people who usually hate the guitarist agree on the qualities of the album. The original LP version of the piece was edited, but when Ryko reissued the album on CD in 1987, it was restored to its 17 minutes. Zappa’s love of studio tweaking being legendary, this is most probably the only complete take of a jam session available on his records. — allmusic’s François Couture

Also from allmusic Steve Huey’s review of Hot Rats, one of the earliest albums I ever bought (my mum might have even brought it home). I still think  Captain Beefheart is at his seediest best on Willie the Pimp and I absolutely also love “Sugarcane” Harris’ violin on this track.

Aside from the experimental side project Lumpy Gravy, Hot Rats was the first album Frank Zappa recorded as a solo artist sans the Mothers, though he continued to employ previous musical collaborators, most notably multi-instrumentalist Ian Underwood. Other than another side project — the doo wop tribute Cruising With Ruben and the Jets — Hot Rats was also the first time Zappa focused his efforts in one general area, namely jazz-rock. The result is a classic of the genre. Hot Rats’ genius lies in the way it fuses the compositional sophistication of jazz with rock’s down-and-dirty attitude — there’s a real looseness and grit to the three lengthy jams, and a surprising, wry elegance to the three shorter, tightly arranged numbers (particularly the sumptuous “Peaches en Regalia”). Perhaps the biggest revelation isn’t the straightforward presentation, or the intricately shifting instrumental voices in Zappa’s arrangements — it’s his own virtuosity on the electric guitar, recorded during extended improvisational workouts for the first time here. His wonderfully scuzzy, distorted tone is an especially good fit on “Willie the Pimp,” with its greasy blues riffs and guest vocalist Captain Beefheart’s Howlin’ Wolf theatrics. Elsewhere, his skill as a melodist was in full flower, whether dominating an entire piece or providing a memorable theme as a jumping-off point. In addition to Underwood, the backing band featured contributions from Jean-Luc Ponty, Lowell George, and Don “Sugarcane” Harris, among others; still, Zappa is unquestionably the star of the show. Hot Rats still sizzles; few albums originating on the rock side of jazz-rock fusion flowed so freely between both sides of the equation, or achieved such unwavering excitement and energy.

The original gumbo variations version followed by Zappa on Zappa’s version, the latter very good indeed as it all his stuff: unusual for making a career of one’s father’s legacy. Dweezil is in a league of his own (if one must insist that he is running a tribute band): unlike the usual tribute kitsch he has taste and class and is highly talented in his own right. One would have to be to be able to interpret Zappa’s challenging body of work.

 

Satchmo, The Philosopher

philosophy

A nice piece (an analogy) by Matt  Glaser that’s been around for a while.

If all of Western philosophy is merely commentary on Plato, then all of jazz is, in some sense, commentary on Louis. Armstrong’s achievement is amply evident in two solos on “Basin Street Blues.”

Oakeshott and Hobbes

a companion to michael oakeshott

Here are more extracts from Noel Malcolm’s essay for the Oakeshott Companion: Malcolm’s recent work has been listed as one of The Economist books of the year.

Oakeshott’s essay on “Rationalism in Politics” does make some attempt to locate the birth of rationalism historically. He observes that “the moment when it shows itself unmistakably” is in the early seventeenth century, and he identifies both Bacon and Descartes as foundational figures in the rationalist tradition (RP, 18, 19–22). In this account, Hobbes, whose philosophical formation took place in the early seventeenth century, and who enjoyed personal relations with both Bacon and Descartes (friendly with the former, rivalrous with the latter), is passed over without even a mention. In Oakeshott’s introduction to Leviathan, on the other hand, Hobbes is briefly identified as an exemplar of “rationalism,” but only in order to emphasize the gulf that separated his kind of rationalism from that of a thinker such as Descartes: “The lineage of Hobbes’s rationalism lies, not (like that of Spinoza or even Descartes) in the great Platonic-Christian tradition, but in the sceptical, late scholastic tradition. He does not normally speak of Reason, the divine illumination of the mind that unites man with God; he speaks of reasoning. And he is not less persuaded of its fallibility and limitations than Montaigne himself.” There is some tension between this discussion and the account given subsequently in “Rationalism in Politics”: in the later essay, Descartes is himself characterized as an exponent of “scepticism,” whose role as a founding father of rationalism was to a large extent foisted on him by later generations of vulgarizing Cartesians (RP, 21–22). More puzzlingly, that account also portrays the “reason” of the rationalists as something very different from “Reason, the divine illumination of the mind that unites man with God”: an important footnote in “Rationalism in Politics” declares that “The ‘reason’ to which the Rationalist appeals is not, for example, the Reason of Hooker, which belongs still to the tradition of Stoicism and of Aquinas. It is a faculty of calculation by which men conclude one thing from another and discover fit means of attaining given ends not themselves subject to the criticism of reason” (RP, 22–23)—a description which, while no doubt formulated with twentieth-century social engineers in mind, seems to match quite closely the Hobbesian notion of “reasoning.”

Thus far, it may seem that Oakeshott’s admiration for Hobbes can be rendered compatible with his hostility to rationalism in politics only on the basis of a misunderstanding: apparently, Oakeshott was prepared to overlook the many obvious similarities between Hobbes and the rationalists because he believed, wrongly, that on one fundamental issue—that of certainty—Hobbes represented a contrary point of view. But to leave the matter there would be to fail to acknowledge the most important way in which Oakeshott regarded political philosophy Hobbes as a representative of the non-rationalist or anti-rationalist position. The essential nature of his interest in Hobbes was summed up in the title he chose for the collection of his writings about him: Hobbes on Civil Association. More than anything else, what attracted him to the earlier philosopher was Hobbes’s account of the nature of a political community as something constituted by a web of mutual understandings and mutual commitments of a peculiarly open-ended and unconditional kind. In Oakeshott’s eyes, Hobbes was an archetypal non-rationalist in politics because he had a rich understanding of the non-instrumentality of the state.

What appealed to Oakeshott about Hobbes’s vision of the state was, above all, its non-instrumentality. In Hobbes’s story (or “myth”) of the covenant that founded the state, there was a transfer of rights that was entirely open-ended, political philosophy without specific conditions or purposes attached to it. The artifice that created the state consisted of non-substantive intentions; the only intention at work there was the intention that there be a sovereign authority. In Oakeshott’s view, an enterprise association was also a product of artifice, but one based on substantive intentions. Using the distinction outlined earlier, we might say that a grand rationalist state—a totalitarian one—was one in which the substantive intentions were structured in such a way that all intentions were subsumed under one highest intention, whereas a petty rationalist state—a mechanistic-liberal one, in which politics was the art of piecemeal social engineering— was one in which the role of the state was to adjudicate between particular substantive intentions, bundle some of them together, and find ways of fulfilling them.