Pragmatism

I haven’t blogged in ages but my brain has nevertheless been active despite tile and lighting orders, fireplace sketches, and meetings with the electrician. I feel that I ought to split this entry up into five or six days. It really IS unmanageable as I've been "writing" it in my head for a month. And for that I’m sorry. Perhaps you could read a paragraph per week, sort of the way you might read a textbook. I won’t be the wiser if you choose that route. Without further ado, for your reading pleasure or torture, my thoughts on Pragmatism.

Our family, along with two other families in our squadron, is going through a biblical worldview course by Focus on the Family called “The Truth Project.” We’re not really studying but, more precisely, surveying the various ways that people seek truth. Last week we surveyed philosophy and where Truth comes from. This week we surveyed anthropology and studied the nature of evil. Via my one and only philosophy class in college, I was vaguely familiar with Socratic thinking, still ruminating on Rene Descartes’ defense of God’s existence, and still puzzling over the upside down (my opinion) logic of Immanuel Kant. But I’d not known that my own mantra was a philosophy—and a distinctly American one at that!

In the circles in which I've traveled, to be pragmatic has been tantamount to a compliment. Pragmatic people made things happen. They produced results and checked stuff off their to-do lists. Not that most pragmatists would subscribe wholeheartedly to the entire philosophy of the system, but it nevertheless is helpful to understand its roots. Pragmatists live by the worldview that “what we’ve got is all we’ve got. It may not make rational or transcendent sense, but we can still do something with it.” C.S. Pierce, William James, and John Dewey, the architects of the philosophy, said that meaning was merely in what we could perceive (i.e. NOT outside of ourselves) and that the only function of thought is to guide action in a course that leads to the most success and value for the least possible short-term cost. In other words, the truth of the proposition is dependent upon the success or failure of the result.

Increasingly, over the past few years, I have winced to see that Pragmatism is not only a stumbling block to my faith in God; it is the antithesis of my faith in God. Pragmatism is faithlessness itself.. It is the sugar that we prosperous lovers of fast food swallow most frequently, believing it to be good for us simply because it tastes so good.

Under Pragmatism, the truth of the claim is dependent upon the perceived success or monetary value of the outcome. For example:

Truth claim: Prostitution is a good thing for society and should be legalized.
Evidence: It decreases criminal activity, provides jobs for women who would otherwise be unemployed, and provides benefit to both parties involved.

Truth claim: It is wrong to discipline a child.
Evidence: Using methods other than discipline (such as coaxing, bribery, agreements, and withholding privileges), you can obtain the desired result without running the risk of making the child and/or yourself uncomfortable.

Truth claim: It is undesirable to have children.
Evidence: Little people contribute nothing to society and drain the pools of human labor and finances.

Truth claim: It is foolish to stay in a difficult marriage.
Evidence: Choosing to stay in a difficult marriage will result in further quarreling, mental and emotional stress for both parties, and can result in violence or emotional retreat.

As ludicrous as are some of these pragmatic arguments and as realistic as are others, they have one thread in common: pragmatic “truths” have no device by which to account for intangibles—things that we can’t see but that we know, down deep in our souls, are precious. Pragmatism can’t measure freedom, selflessness, joy, human dignity, emotional peace, honor, or inherent beauty and therefore it cannot bring those intangible values to bear upon its truth constructs. Although all of the Pragmatists of my acquaintance (including myself when I’m acting like one) might like to account for such things, we cannot do so without invoking some other value system outside the realm of Pragmatism.

The other activity in which Pragmatism fails is in measuring effects over an expanse of time. Pragmatists cannot account for long-term effects because they’re so busy acting upon the “truths” validated by short-term evidence . For instance, in the truth claim which says “it is undesirable to have children,” the evidence is swayed by the immediate result of having a baby—tons of diapers, hours of screaming, and whopping helpings of thankless self-sacrifice only to be followed by more of the same. Yes, in the short-term, babies and toddlers are a drain to everyone and everything they touch (short-term effect)—but that assumes that they never grow up to get jobs and care for their parents (long-term effect).

Despite its evident drawbacks, Pragmatism continues thrive in its American breeding ground. This is for two reasons that I can see and, I’m sure, for more reasons that I fail to understand. Pragmatism is concerned with the payoff--and what more objective indicator for success can we find than possessions? And which country has the most citizens with the most “stuff” (“Better Off French? World Magazine, May 13, 2006)? Schwack! Americans have washing machines, computers, televisions, pillow shams, and Elvis paintings by which to measure their short-term success. We coined it here: “The one who dies with the most toys wins!” Compounding the success of a philosophy concerned with payoffs is the fact that we Americans are mesmerized by the temporal and focus, almost exclusively, on the short term. When those same truth constructs prove false or inadequate as time goes on, instead of blaming our truth constructs, we’re prosperous and active people who can conveniently find plenty of alternative causes at hand.

For instance, when we were looking for the cause of Seth’s constant tantrums and screaming, we failed to remove corn from his diet. Corn was one of the few grains he could eat (or so we thought) and it was inconvenient to take it out of his diet. Honestly it was not only inconvenient; it would have been painful. Seth loves cornbread and corn on the cob. And it was summertime. Our truth construct: “Corn is good for Seth” was validated by the fact that eating cornbread made him happy and it made my life in the kitchen easier. The problem was that Seth continued to throw tantrums, complain of headaches, break out in rashes, and scream hysterically in the night. His fits were much less frequent than before he’d come off the wheat, berries, and sugar but we were still dealing with at least one miserable day per week. When those miserable days came, instead of seeing the corn that he’d eaten a day or two ago, I saw a later bedtime as the cause or I pointed to his brothers as being more irritating than usual. There was always something else to blame. I was so enamored by the positive effects of the corn that despite my newly-acquired knowledge about the powerful interactions of food with the human immune system, I failed to realize that something eaten a day or two ago was having long-term effects.

More sobering and to-the-point is the example of my parenting of Brandt when he was young. While I’m sure that I said I was parenting “by faith and not by sight” (what else would a Christian say?), my truth construct was that God’s way of discipline administered in love must not work. I never would have admitted that to myself, much less said it to you; but when I could finally look back with some degree of perspective, I saw my faithless heart as plainly as I could see the county dump. Every time Brandt gave Gresham a right hook to the gut, every time he woke us in the middle of the night with belligerent demands, every time he said “No!” to my face (and boy did he know how to say it!), every time he insisted upon whining instead of asking, I chalked up more evidence for my truth proposition. I had days of sins heaped up as ample evidence that God’s way “just wasn’t working.” Fortunately (providentially) I didn’t have anything else to try, not having been raised in a manipulative household and not having read many “other” parenting books. I was stuck using God’s truth constructs to raise my child but I chose not to exercise the faith that would complete its efficacy. Outwardly, I was following God’s way. Inwardly I was sure that God was failing us. “But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved)” (Ephesians 2: 4-5). Apparently it’s not only a verse about salvation.

So I applied the discipline and said the right words; but I was plagued mentally and emotionally by frustration. This, in turn, often influenced by behavior toward Brandt. I couldn’t believe God’s plan because I couldn’t see it. And that made me desperate. There were many times when I sinned against my son by speaking to him in an exasperated tone or by reinforcing his rebellion with pleading and coaxing and then, in despair, administering the discipline I should have given at the first. What was the poor child to think? And then, after years of faithful discipline accompanied by faithless thinking, the Lord began to change Brandt’s heart. And in so doing, He changed mine. He softened us both visibly. Thank God for the prayers of the saints! Brandt began to obey cheerfully and immediately. I began to believe in God’s power to change a heart of stone into a heart of flesh. Oh that I, who had seen that power before in my own life, had believed that as I ought! Shame flooded me at the same time as I experienced the relief of seeing God’s ways bearing fruit. I am still ashamed by my phariseeic efforts, but since Brandt’s journey through toddlerhood, we’ve continued to have the opportunity to see God grow both them and us.

Gresham followed Brandt into “the terrible twos”—but in completely different ways. And just when we thought we had some of the parental formulas within our grasp, God gave us Seth and Eva—a whole different set of issues than either Brandt or Gresham. Each time, trusting God has become a little bit easier even when there is more at stake. Each time, I get the opportunity to see my phariseeic heart just a bit more clearly. Each time He reminds me that the blessings are here now if I obey unquestioningly and they are waiting for later also. By faith, I don’t have to worry about the long-term consequences of short-term gratification. By faith, I can put to death my pragmatic nature.

Seen in light of its limitations, Pragmatism shows itself as a worthless philosophy. So why do we continue to run to it, embracing it as the de facto operating procedure for our lives? It is because the alternative is almost unthinkable. The alternative is faith in God’s principles and faith in His immutable and priceless Word. Faith in imperishable and eternal truth constructs is not a mode in which we can operate without the direct intervention of God. And that requires that we humble ourselves and do, without requiring an answer or a result beforehand, exactly what God has called us to do. When we trust God as He has revealed Himself in His word, He takes into account both the “intangibles” and the long-term effects in His perfect truth constructs. Not only that, He takes into account the people who are likely to be affected by those truth constructs. He says He loves little ones precisely BECAUSE they have nothing to offer in the short term (Matthew 18). He says He loves us although we have nothing to offer but our filthy rags and whitewashed hearts. Those who follow Him will reign with Him in a kingdom of intangibles: a kingdom of love that can’t be measured, a kingdom of joy that will never end. And all of it lasts longer, much, much longer than the short-term.