Scrutinizing Skepticism—Part 2

So some degree of skepticism and discernment can be very useful to us. You can hear, from time to time, public school officials talk about teaching children the skills of “critical thinking,” of helping kids to become discerning young people. They usually mean teaching children to think for themselves, to be judicious, aware, observant. That sounds nice, but in fact that is quite different from what most public schools actually do; they encourage just one way of considering things (dogma), promote complete acceptance of authority, and then test students in a manner that inculcates in them the belief that they are either right or wrong in response to questions (that is, there are no shades of gray or even alternative viewpoints to the authorized one). That's not critical thinking.

Considering the arguments above, it seems to me that they offer an explanation of why certain segments of society—most often the pious and faithful—have traditionally disapproved of skeptics: skeptical ideas and doubt can threaten their beliefs. 
 
In fact, throughout history, neither the state nor religious people have been sympathetic to skeptics, because they cast doubt on society's beliefs. Especially in America, where the state and Christianity hold many of the same convictions, skepticism is often not welcome—sometimes along with its cohorts, discernment and critical thinking. At least we have not yet come to the point where we methodically jail skeptics, as they do in Turkey and China.

I believe there is another kind of person who also thinks skeptically, as well as discerningly; they are called prophets. Throughout history prophets have doubted and questioned the beliefs and behavior of mainstream society. When they've spoken up about their views and challenged orthodoxy, they've often become even less popular than skeptics.

Furthermore, I also think that a historian can benefit from a good dose of skepticism. My favorite historian for several years now is Yuval Noah Harari, who teaches history at Hebrew University in Israel and has written two profound books: Sapiens and Homo Deus. (In fact, I discovered Harari in a MOOC he taught several years ago.) Harari examines history through the eyes of a skeptic. He's both discerning and a very clear thinker. Years of lengthy meditation retreats have sharpened his mind. His particular strength is to examine history, connect the dots, and then interpret current events with that knowledge. That's the nature of his first book (Sapiens) listed above. He then goes on in the second book (Homo Deus) to connect the dots of today's events and then project what the future will be like.

So, I believe skepticism and a dose of doubt offers me some valuable thoughts on how to perceive the world around me. Healthy doubt can be useful—especially when coupled with careful examination of that world, and furthered by a good dose of curiosity. I can become a skeptic, without having to become a card-carrying atheist, or without denying the possibility of possessing any kind of knowledge; because skepticism is not necessarily about distrust or being a heretic. It's just as much about curious inquiry and discernment. So let those kids in school be taught critical thinking. Maybe they'll even grow up to become moderate skeptics

Happiness Hints

I recently finished taking an online course (a MOOC—massive online open course), presented by Dan Ariely, a professor of Behavioral Economics at Duke University. The course is titled “A Beginner's Guide to Irrational Behavior.” It was a fascinating (and entertaining) course on how so many of our choices in life—that we'd like to think are rational and smart—are, in fact, often irrational and impulsive. When we become aware of the underlying forces that drive us to make irrational choices, we can learn how to make better, more logical decisions—which, interestingly, does not necessarily imply that rational decisions are always best.

Along the way, Professor Arliey offers many psychological insights into how we look at our lives and feel about ourselves. In a recent lecture he offered a simple definition of one way we can come to feel happy about ourselves, or, alternatively, become depressed and dispirited—depending on how we weigh what's going on in our lives.

Ariely says to ponder how your life could have taken a different path—how past choices led you to follow the path you did, rather than another one. Then consider some realistic alternatives. What if you'd chosen another job? Another mate? Had more self-control? Think about an equally-likely direction that you could have taken. What might have happened, if that other choice had been made? Would you have been better off, or worse?

We tend to feel happier with our life, if we think the other choice would have led to more problems than we're now facing. If, on the other hand, we think the other path would have been more fun, our actual life could seem less happy, we'd have some regret, and maybe even feel a little depressed.

This is an interesting idea. I think it's common for us to imagine how different our lives could have been, if we'd chosen a different fork in the road. If we don't feel very happy now, we can lean towards regretting the fact that we made an unfortunate choice. We can even deepen the regret, if we externalize the reason for our choice—feeling that someone prevented me from making that better choice. If so, we even turn our disappointment into resentment of others.

There's another problematic response we can have, when we feel good about our life: we can convince ourselves that the fortunate choices we made were due to our superior intelligence; that we deserve our happiness, because we are special. Both of these reactions are not helpful.

If I think realistically about the past, I can realize that many of my choices could have been much worse, or even that I took a better path through grace. Whew! I'm sure happy that I didn't go that way!

It all makes me realize how complex life is. There are, of course, many other ways to feel happy or allow myself to sink into a depression because life sucks. But it seems to me to be helpful to ponder, now and then, how my life could have been far less pleasant, had I taken that other path.

MOOC Manna—Part 2

I have listed some of the positive aspects of MOOCs that I enjoy. But they can't be the greatest thing since "sliced bread," so what are some of their downsides? Since they are a current, well-received phenomenon—if not exceedingly popular right now—do they as yet have a downside that has had a chance to show up? Well, yes, a few detractors have offered a few criticisms, or have asked a few pointed questions.

Are the MOOC courses being over hyped? Is the quality as high as advertised or expected? Will there be a letdown on the part of students who are led to expect too much from a course? What about access to the lecturer: there is little chance to have access to the professor, when thousands of students are taking the course. Some courses offer credit: How do you grade appropriately or avoid students cheating on tests? Of students who sign up, typically only 10% finish a course. With this dropout rate, what's really been accomplished by offering that course?

I recognize that some of these concerns are valid, but have either discarded them as not relevant for me or worked through them for my needs. But I have my own misgivings about MOOCs—mostly in the arena of money. Right now they are free and of high quality, but how long before greedy profit motives muck things up? At the moment, MOOCs are almost too good to be true, and I fear that commercial interests will spoil the treat or dilute the teachings. TV once (back in the 1950s) promised to be a medium of merit, but has degraded into shallow and trivial entertainment. Will the money grubbers eventually demand their pound of flesh from MOOCs?

Another concern I have about the future of MOOC manna: right now, MOOCs are being taught by highly-qualified professors, who I think may be offering these courses for several motivations (none of them money): (1) reaching a worldwide student audience, (2) exploring a new venue, and (3) teaching students who really want to be there. (Too many of today's university professors lecture to an audience of minimally-interested students.) How long will the teachers' enthusiasm last and how long will the high quality continue?

Who knows where the MOOCs will go? No one. In the meantime, I aim to take full advantage of their remarkable manna.

MOOC Manna—Part 1

We online beings currently have been offered access to a wonderful educational opportunity—something dubbed MOOCs—Massive Online Open Courses. They come in the form of instructional videos—as if you are sitting in a college lecture hall, listening to a qualified professor giving you a lesson on an academic subject, but in the comfort of your own living room. (With maybe even a beer in your hand!)

MOOCs have erupted into the online world as the latest form of what's been designated as "distance education." Numerous leading universities around the world are participating in this process, offering their most experienced teachers the opportunity to present their courses to thousands of curious people worldwide. These online courses are provided free of charge to anyone who is interested. What a bargain!

MOOCs give us a unique opportunity to broaden our minds in an extremely wide variety of subjects—virtually all of which are exceptional learning experiences, given the fact that the most reputable universities are participating. Most of the courses do not require prior knowledge or prerequisite college courses to participate. Most are introductory enough or general enough that virtually anyone can sign on and learn.

Distance education has existed for over 100 years. The internet has provided the perfect medium for their emergence in this new medium. In the late 19th century, postal correspondence courses were the first distance education process that arose, followed by radio courses in the 1920s, followed by TV courses in the 1980s. So now we have the latest manifestation of distance education in the form of MOOCs.

This new phenomenon of what could be also designated as the Chautauqua process (an outdoor adult mass educational experience that originated on Chautauqua Lake in New York State in the late 19th century) is now available to anyone with online access, from their own home. Many universities (MIT, Harvard, Stanford, Princeton, etc.) have encouraged their professors to offer their courses. Coursera is a major MOOC offerer—providing over 300 online courses. EdX is another main offerer. Some courses enroll hundreds of thousands of students worldwide. So the term “massive” is certainly relevant.

I have signed on to four MOOC courses in the last year. Two of them I have followed and completed, for a dozen weeks or more each—watching lectures, taking quizzes, and participating in online forums and discussions with other students. The other two I dropped after a week or so—upon realizing that I either did not have the appropriate prerequisites after all, or the subject matter did not appeal to me, or the lecturer's style was problematic for me. Unlike my college classes all those many years ago, I can easily drop a MOOC course without the stigma of feeling inadequate or suffering the loss of tuition.

I love the ability to be able to watch lectures from home at my leisure. I can take notes, repeat a lecture, join a forum, or further pursue the subject on my own, via references that are given. My science education did not provide me with an extensive background in the humanities, literature, or other liberal arts—so MOOCs give me a wonderful opportunity to pick up on those subjects I missed in my formal education.

More on MOOC manna next time...