Part I: Engage the Elephant
“If you want to change someone’s mind . . . talk to the elephant first. If you ask people to believe something that violates their intuitions, they will devote their efforts to finding an escape hatch—a reason to doubt your argument or conclusion. They will almost always succeed.”
—JONATHAN HAIDT
Chapter 1
Treble Tactic One: Befriend the Behemoth
Bass-Pounding Fallacy: Righteous Indignation Excuses Rude Rhetoric
“Dale Carnegie was one of the greatest elephant-whisperers of all time. In his classic book How to Win Friends and Influence People, Carnegie repeatedly urged readers to avoid direct confrontations. Instead he advised people to ‘begin in a friendly way,’ to ‘smile,’ to ‘be a good listener,’ and to ‘never say “you’re wrong.”’ The persuader’s goal should be to convey respect, warmth, and an openness to dialogue before stating one’s own case.”
—JONATHAN HAIDT
Do you remember the name of your high school librarian? I do. Her name was Helen Porter. As a librarian you have to be doing something right, or at least memorable, for former students to recall your name. If Helen was anything, she was memorable. Well into her sixties, she was quick, clever, dry, and quirky. Most importantly, she was the caretaker of the library’s beloved mascot—a scruffy taxidermied owl by the name of Isaac.
While some students called Helen by her first name, she seldom returned the favor. Instead, she gave us nicknames. Mine was “Bursitis”—a twist on my surname. I was not super-thrilled with it. After all, adding an “itis” to a word is rarely a good thing (in this case: the inflammation of the bursa sac, a painful condition affecting the joints.).
Apparently, I was a pain in some part of Helen’s anatomy because one day she imparted a particularly memorable kernel of wisdom that has stayed with me my entire adult life. With the erudite Isaac peering over her shoulder, she looked me square in the eye and said, “Bursitis, no one is completely worthless. At least you can serve as a bad example.” Ouch. Thanks, Helen.
A Gator in Wildcat Clothing
While my beloved librarian was having a little fun at my pubescent expense, her nugget of wisdom is actually quite profound. It’s true that sometimes we learn as much from cautionary tales as we do from inspirational ones. We will consider both good and bad examples in this chapter, starting with a misstep from my own life.
Several years ago, I gave an apologetics talk to the University of Kentucky InterVarsity Christian Fellowship chapter. I spoke on three of my favorite topics: C. S. Lewis’s Lord, Liar, or Lunatic Trilemma; Blaise Pascal’s Resurrection Trilemma (the disciples were either Deceived, Deceivers, or Correct); and Pascal’s Wager. This was a pretty thick slab of meat for these undergraduate students, so I thought it might be good to start off with a light appetizer. I decided to break the ice by wearing a bright blue Kentucky Wildcat pullover. I opened the talk with all of the usual niceties—“Thanks for inviting me, it’s great to be here in Big Blue country . . .” You get the picture. Then, right before I moved into the heart of my talk, I ripped off the Wildcat jacket to reveal my true identity—an obnoxiously bright Pantone 172 Florida Gator orange polo shirt! As a former University of Florida employee, this stunt was intended to be a humorous warm-up to the evening. Instead, it unwittingly poured salt into a gaping wound the Gators had inflicted on the Wildcat football team just a few days earlier (the final score was 65–0). Needless to say, the temperature of the room remained frosty for the duration of the evening.
You might think this was a harmless faux pas, but Southeastern Conference fans take their football seriously. In fact, it is almost a religion. OK, for many, it is a religion. Athletic fanaticism, however, is hardly unique to the southern part of the United States. A few years ago, a study was conducted in England, where soccer (real football according to my British friends) reigns supreme. Ardent Manchester United fans were asked to write an essay on the virtues of their team. The study participants were then told to walk to another building where someone would record their avid support on videotape. Along the way, however, each participant came upon a fallen jogger writhing in pain. In some cases, the injured person was wearing a Manchester United shirt; other times the jersey of their archrival, Liverpool. More than 90 percent helped the ManU jogger, while 70 percent ignored the injured Liverpudlian. This Good Samaritan study illustrates the deeply ingrained tribalism that we all share and how it often expresses itself through our sports allegiances, which is one reason why I am allowed to criticize my own team, but not yours!
How to Become an Elephant Whisperer
So far this chapter has been a bit like a trip to the zoo. We have strolled past the bird, reptile, and cat habitats, but now we come to the star of the show, the elephant. Several years ago, Marquette University professor Michael Johnson took a memorable trip to one of the largest zoological properties in the United States—Disney’s Animal Kingdom. While observing scientists studying elephants, Johnson was struck by a thought. As a computer engineer, he wondered what it would be like to study elephant communication patterns. This question led to the development of the Dr. Dolittle Project, which funded research of animal vocalizations. By utilizing speech-processing technology and methods, Johnson and his colleagues identified a repertoire of five distinct African elephant vocalizations. “We can’t hear a difference but the computer can,” Johnson says. “Elephants often talk at a very low frequency, eight to 14 hertz. We hear it as a rumble, but it is actually a vocalization that they can hear just fine.”
This insight reinforces the first principle of moral psychology—intuitions come first, strategic reasoning second. While it might be comforting to imagine ourselves as purely rational beings with strategic reasoning firmly ensconced in the driver’s seat, Jonathan Haidt believes this is a delusion. Instead, Haidt likens our strategic reasoning to a rider sitting atop an enormous intuitive elephant with a mind of its own. So rather than brilliantly shifting and steering a nimble sports car, it is more accurate to imagine our reason straddling the largest land mammal on the planet. Haidt observes: “Wh...