Deadbrain
Polemic 2: direct current through a large tundra dwelling
Situated as I am among various and sundry STEM fields, I have had the unique displeasure multiple times of someone coming along believing that he reveres me, sidling up to me as if to say “we are kindred souls, teach me,” when in fact the only thing he reveres is his own mind. I am speaking, of course, of the rationalist, a sweaty, greasy bit of grime that falls from between the coarse gears of modernity. Invariably, these figures are male, unkempt, awkward and arrogant. Inevitably, they realize that I spend more time actually doing science than I spend congratulating myself for it, that I treat the subject familiarly and with contempt, that I worship nothing discovered by man, and certainly nothing which I can comprehend with even my meager dole of intellect, and they are repulsed. As if a butcher can share the same love of animals as a child who only sees them in picture books! The rationalists disgust me on every level, from the personal to the political to the spiritual.
The first grotesquery of a rationalist is his slavish devotion to midwits and rabblerousers. Richard Dawkins, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Scott Alexander, Eliezer Yudkowsky — half of these men have no value whatsoever to an inquisitive mind, and the actual scientific works of the other two are sure to be overlooked by the rationalist. Their main appeal to him is speaking in such a way as to dupe the listener into thinking that he is smart. Sitting comfortably within the confines of a manicured palace garden of “real science,” these puppet kings build great artifices and dizzying discursions, all of which fall apart when subjected to a hearty gust of wind from reality. But the ivory tower is to a rationalist what a shell is to a hermit crab — he will only leave it if he grows too big for it, and rationalists loathe growth.
To a rationalist, every question can be reduced down to formal formulation and methodically, mindlessly subjected to “the scientific process” until he derives an answer which satisfies him. He pays homage to logic but does not actually use it, instead he expects it to be a tool by which he can bend the world to suit his fancy. Never willing to exert himself to virtue or moderate his vices, he toys with quotes and studies (abstracts only, heaven forbid he understand the method) until he finds one to justify himself as he is. This is why he believes that wine (which his mother, whom he hates, enjoys) is damaging but marijuana (of which he partakes) can only have positive effects. “Reproducability crisis” means nothing to him. He is not aware that it exists, and if you were to describe it to him he would believe it to be an anti-science conspiracy by fundamentalist Christians to undermine Progress (and by extension his own personal comfort).
He is not skilled in many things, but he is quite skilled in assigning motive. Question him and see how quickly he questions you! Are you bought off? Do you hate humanity? Are you driven to oppose him by greed, by fear, by ignorance? At the first sign of heterodoxy he will launch into a cross-examination so severe and unwarranted that Bulver himself would blush to see it. To the rationalist, no one can oppose him in good faith. To the rationalist, everything he “knows” is settled fact, graven in stone. To the rationalist, disagreement with him is disagreement with the entire institution of science (as if that were a sin in itself!) He loves nothing more than to play Freud, although he cannot stomach reading much of Freud himself, and only applies what little morsels of psychology he gathers from Wikipedia and forum posts. Ask him for his sources of information and, if he is stupid enough, he will tell you. All of them will be suffixed with .com or .org. He is a self-described autodidact, an invertebrate, a mental midget, a phony, a fraud, a coward, a liar, a cheat and a rube. He has no morals, no character, no original thoughts, no dreams in his head, no love in his heart. He has destroyed every organic thing about himself until he no longer feels the crushing weight of guilt or despair. He hides from his demons by denying their existence, and in doing so, of course, acts always to the benefit of Hell.
Ten years ago the rationalist watched atheism rants on Youtube, five years ago he started following a Facebook page titled “I Fucking Love Science” and today he retweets Ricky Gervais. He is only ever influential online. He is reddit. He is memes. He is blind to the limitations of science, and the world outside it. He does not see science for what it is — namely, an odd collection of trivia, questions and idle thoughts, compiled through a disorderly rush of eager, messy human beings, all with their own motives, means and opportunity. To him, Science is a great and terrible engine, an inevitable force, itself a scientific fact. Little wonder, then that he does not understand it, for how can we worship what we fully know? To him, Science is God. Pity him if you can, hate him if you must, but whatever you do, do not afford him even an ounce of respect or clout. Cut him out of your life, discard him from your social functions, cross to the other side of the street if you see a man wearing a Rick and Morty shirt. Rationalism arose because of the weakness and cowardice of its devotees; it can be destroyed by the same vectors.