The Kavanaugh situation is probably the greatest object lesson in motivated reasoning that we’ve encountered since Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman. Scott Adams calls it watching two different movies on the same screen. But Jonathan Haidt brought to my attention another way of thinking about this is a talk at UVA last year.
Motivated reasoning involves applying different standards of evidence to a proposition depending on whether or not you want the proposition to be true. If you want something to be true, you ask “CAN I believe it?” If you DON’T want something to be true, you ask “MUST I believe it?”
This is universal behavior. In the absence of extreme intention and self-discipline, we are all guilty of motivated reasoning, in areas both big and small. Think about how you watch sports. If you’re rooting for the Cowboys (as all right-thinking Americans do) and the ref rules that Dez didn’t catch the ball, you are absolutely convinced that he did. The evidence is so obvious that only a moron could claim otherwise, or possibly someone with an ulterior motive. If however, you’re rooting for the Packers, it’s as clear as day that it wasn’t a catch. The way you apply the rule, and interpret the facts in light of it, is entirely dependent on what you WANT to be true. As long as the evidence falls in the grey area between “can” and “must,” you see exactly what you want to see.
So how does this play out in L’Affaire Kavanaugh? If you went into that hearing wanting to believe that Kavanaugh was guilty, you certainly came out of it believing that he was. Looking at the evidence that was presented, CAN you believe he’s guilty? Of course. Dr. Ford apparently came across as a very credible witness, told a compelling story, and was completely convinced of its veracity. Judge Kavanaugh’s angry display was exactly what you’d expect from a rich, spoiled, jock who is having the thing he’s felt entitled to his whole life ripped away from him over what, to him, was a harmless romp. Of course, in the current environment, he can’t say that, so he tried to downplay his drinking and came up with strained explanations for obviously sinister yearbook quotes. He probably perjured himself multiple times, and hid the one person whose testimony would have been potentially most damning (Mark Judge) from the committee and behind a lame “rehab” excuse. What you saw in that hearing was exactly what you expected to see.
Now, if you went into it NOT wanting to believe him to be guilty, did anything in the hearing COMPEL you to believe that he was? Nope. As he pointed out, it’s an accusation from 35 years ago, about which no details are offered except the few that serve to implicate him (and nothing that could be proven false). Every person Dr. Ford said was at the party has no recollection of it, or outright denied that it happened – in sworn statements under penalty of perjury. Her lifelong friend – the person with the most incentive to back up her story – said she never knew Kavanaugh. High school yearbook quotes are essentially like YouTube comments now – where you say edgy things to make your friends think you’re cool. They often bear no resemblance to the actual person. Judge Kavanaugh’s anger was exactly what you’d expect from a man who had lived his entire life in a circumspect manner, carefully following the rules (a few brewskis aside) and building a stellar career and reputation, and was now being accused of something horrific – something he would never do – for pure partisan gain. He had watched his name and his family’s life ripped apart because some Senators thought he would rule in a way they didn't like on certain cases. And Dr. Ford, however sympathetic she may have appeared, had multiple holes in her story. There are contradictions between her therapist notes (or what was reported from them – she apparently refused to turn them over to the committee) and her later testimony. What you saw in that hearing was exactly what you expected to see.
The odds are that one of those last two paragraphs made you very mad. One of them was much harder for me to write than the other, because I’m as guilty of motivated reasoning as everyone else.
I’m certainly not telling you what to believe. How we FEEL about this case is based on a whole host of ideas and experiences that we’re often powerless to overcome. If you’re a woman who has been subject to sexual assault, and has watched men exactly like Kavanaugh get away with it time after time over the years, you’re probably traumatized by the very sight of him. If the rulings he might tilt toward reversal are ones that protect the freedoms that you cherish, his appointment is an existential threat to be defeated at all costs. If you’re a man who has been falsely accused of a crime by a vindictive ex, and been unable to prove your innocence, you’re furious at everyone involved in this process. And if the ruling he might tilt toward reversal are those that protect barbarisms that you find morally repugnant, anything that interferes with his appointment is a tool of evil.
What I am trying to do is help you understand that when we throw facts back and forth at each other, on this and a whole host of other issues, we’re not accomplishing anything. Ben Shapiro often says “Facts don’t care about your feelings.” He’s right, but the reverse is also true. Your feelings don’t care about the facts. Dr. Haidt’s solution to this seeming intractable problem is moral humility. Don’t be so sure that your perspective on an issue represents Good and any other represents Evil. Don’t talk about these issues in ways that preclude the possibility that someone else’s perspective might have merit. And empathize with the people who disagree with you. They’re no more in control of their feelings than you are. But we can all control how we express those feelings, and how we try to find common ground.
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