The Box of Kleenex

A friend of mine is fond of telling others about a particular example of my quirkiness. One day when visiting me he asked why I had a box of Kleenex positioned at a particular location. I proceeded to explain my reason. Actually I gave him three reasons, since – by some trinitarian mechanism – I seem usually to have three reasons for whatever I have a reason for doing. But the quirkiness he is pointing out is that I have a(t least one) reason for everything I do … from the trivial (like placement of a Kleenex box) to the “momentous” (for example, why I chose to retire when I did).

                (Was my friend equally quirky for inquiring why the Kleenex box was located where it was?)

                And the reason he delights in doing this (if he has only one reason) is to point out the irony (or contradiction? and hence … irrationality?) of my having gone on a campaign to convince him to stop being so rational all the time! I do this because I have become convinced that his form or way of using rationality is a dead end.

                Of course if I’m being inconsistent by continuing to be rational myself while urging my friend to be irrational, then my behavior is thereby consistent with my advice to him not to be so rational! So then … where’s the irony?

                I had to mention that, but it’s just playing with concepts. Let me get back to the substantive issue. My friend thinks that I am a paradigm of rationality because I am always ready to provide reasons for what I do, no matter how trivial the action. And I agree. However, I do not think it follows that I am rational in the way my friend is (or purports to be).

                My friend’s conception of rationality, and in particular what we in the trade call practical rationality, is that a person reasons about what to do and then, having reached a conclusion that is logical and sound, acts on that conclusion. Thus for example:

By placing the Kleenex box on the edge of the desk, I won’t have to get up from my chair when I am working at my desk every time I want to blow my perpetually runny allergic nose.

Therefore I ought to place the Kleenex box on the edge of the desk.

                And then I place the Kleenex box on the edge of the desk. Voilà: practical rationality. My action is rational.

                And since I always do reason in this sort of way before acting and then act accordingly, my friend considers me a paradigm of rationality. But since he conceives himself to act in the same way (albeit not to my extreme of doing it even for every trivial action), he thinks I am lapsing in my own rationality to advise him to act differently.

                But I don’t think my friend fully understands what is going on when I act in the way I myself consider to be rational … and ultimately I think he misunderstands even his own springs of action in the same way he misunderstands mine.

                What is missing from my friend’s analysis is that, while I am indeed always able to provide a reason, even three, for anything I do, I could just as well provide a reason, or three, for not doing it. That is the nature of the beast – in this case, of the philosopher, who is adept at generating logical possibilities or hypotheses to make sense of things that may or may not appear to make sense at first blush.

                That is the sort of skill or mentality that enabled someone to look up at the sun moving across the sky and wonder: “I wonder if it might be that the Earth is turning rather than the sun moving?”

                Just so, I could reason about the Kleenex box:

By placing the Kleenex box on the edge of the desk so that I won’t have to get up from my chair when I am working at my desk every time I want to blow my perpetually runny allergic nose, I will deprive myself of little breaks from my already too sedentary life and thereby become plumper and more prone to back aches and heart disease.

Therefore I ought not to place the Kleenex box on the edge of the desk.

                So what is the rational thing to do? The difference between my friend and me is that he thinks the answer is provided by the stronger argument, whereas I think the answer is provided by the stronger desire. My argument  for my position (which argument you may, and in fact will, take or leave depending on how strongly it appeals to your desires) is that, philosopher that I am, I am able to generate enough argumentation on both sides of any issue to produce a dialectical stalemate, and so the only way to produce an actual action is for one argument (or set of arguments or considerations) to move me more than the other; and the way that happens is for the wholly contingent set of desires that I happen to possess in the given circumstances to contain a preponderance of preference for the one argument over the other.

                Thus, if present convenience trumps heart health in my personal conative constitution, I will go with the argument for placing the Kleenex box on the edge of my desk. But if long-term health (or personal vanity about my appearance) trumps convenience, I will go with the argument for not doing so.

                If, furthermore, one additional proviso is met – namely, that whichever desire persists has done so in light of a reasonable amount of investigation on my part of the relevant considerations and logical reflection thereon – then I am satisfied to call any resultant action rational.

                My friend, however, balks at this conclusion and maintains that the action would be rational only if any tie-breaker were to be found in the relative merits of the arguments themselves regardless of the agent’s desires. Thus, for example, it would be irrational for me to place the Kleenex box on the edge of my desk if the argument for heart health were stronger than the argument for convenience.

                I say: Dream on.