Rule by Denial

Sunday night, the president announced an agreement to raise the debt ceiling and Asian markets rose considerably. When stockholders in China and Japan hear the leader of a country say "agreement," they assume that means there will be no default. But as I write on Monday morning, there is less confidence that John Boehner's leadership will have the same effect on his own party. Freshmen Tea Partiers and even some more seasoned Southern congressmen believe that (1) we are not on the verge of a catastrophe; and (2) if we are, then we deserve what we get.

This particular form of refusal also plays well with respect to climate change. The tornados in Missouri, the floods along the banks of the Mississippi, the fires in Arizona do not suggest we are experiencing global warming, say the climate change deniers, but if we are, then we deserve what we get. As with the debt crisis, the logic is nine parts denial and one part divine judgment. That one part divine judgment, however, is critical to the whole equation. Without it, the person in denial would just look lazy. With it, the person gets street cred for piety.

Both the debt crisis and climate change are what philosophers would call a "wicked problem." A problem is wicked when it's not clear exactly what caused the problem and it's not clear exactly what a proposed solution will do. That lack of certainty doesn't mean the problem can't be addressed, it just means that problem-solvers need to
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stay open and modify their hypotheses as more information comes in. American pragmatists, such as John Dewey, suggest trying lots of experiments and then gathering the information to determine which policy had the best results. As long as people are flexible in their thinking, solving a wicked problem can be deeply satisfying. The social nature of the experiment, the need to share information, is, in Dewey's eyes, the surest way to create a healthy democracy.

But in certain political circles, experimentation and flexibility are not in high regard. Rather, members of the conservative faction of the GOP want the certainty of a Balanced Budget Amendment and the spectacle of pledges. We can will these terrible problems away, they insist, if we just muscle up the necessary moral fiber. As long as we're good, nothing bad will happen. But if something bad does happen, we deserved it.

Moral absolutism, which is the term for this kind of thinking, has always provided a degree of comfort during difficult times. Parents often use this logic with teenagers, particularly when the adolescent brain is flooded with hormonal excesses. Put them on a short leash, goes the argument, have them sign an abstinence pledge, and they won't suffer consequences beyond their ken. "There are some behaviors," say these concerned parents, "that should not be determined through experimentation. We don't need more facts, we need you to just say, ‘No.'"

The logic of abstinence, which some parents find useful in the home, has now become the logic of Tea Party fiscal policy. "We don't need more facts," says this new faction of fiscal conservatives, "we don't need to know about the effects of losing our triple-A bond rating. We just need the government to say, ‘No.'"

But saying no to drugs and sex has different consequences than saying no to government spending, a point these conservatives don't seem to recognize. Just Say No was a tactic to keep unthinking youngsters from doing themselves serious harm. It does not apply to thinking public servants who require funds to assist people in serious need and to protect parks and public lands from wanton development.

But Just Say No, unfortunately, has its own reward: the reward of denial. Deny the wicked problem and suddenly lots of time and energy is returned to the self, particularly the judgmental self, that part of the ego that is certain it knows right from wrong and how to determine whether those who are suffering deserve their pain. Freed of obligation to others and ennobled by judgment, it is no wonder that many succumb to the sweet pleasures of moral absolutism. But for the rest of us trying to tackle the wicked problems of climate change and the careful use of limited resources, this new breed of conservatism is not much use at all. Denying the debt crisis doesn't help us address the wicked problem of too much need and not enough money. Claiming that disaster is part of God's master plan may frighten adolescents into safer behavior but it isn't very helpful when solving a problem with credible but opposing solutions. It's true that disaster can be a great teacher, but in order to learn from those hard lessons we need to put on our grown-up thinking caps.

Unfortunately, the conservative wing of the Republican Party doesn't seem to understand the very notion of thinking like a grown-up. Given the magnitude of wicked problems in the world, one can even forgive them for wanting to think like a teenager. But if that's the logic they feel most comfortable with, then government may not be the right career choice. Not all of us are up to thinking about wicked problems. Were it not for the fact that many people are sharing ideas and information about how to live through this upcoming bottleneck, when the need will be greater than the resources available, we might all stick our heads in the sand. But if we're willing to be flexible in our thinking and generous with our information, our democracy could become stronger, better able to deal with the wicked problems that neither denial nor divinity can make go away.