STANDPOINT
 
 
God, Hayek and the Conceit of Reason  
_JONATHAN  NEUMANN_ 
(http://www.standpointmag.co.uk/writers/?showid=Jonathan Neumann) 
January/February 2014



A quarter of a century ago, Friedrich Hayek  (1899-1992), winner of the 
Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences, published  his final contribution to 
his considerable corpus, an eloquent exposition of his  enduring concerns. 
But The Fatal Conceit (1988) sought not to  recapitulate the intricacies of 
his economic thought (despite its subtitle,"The  Errors of Socialism"), or 
to revisit his postulated and widely celebrated  connection of economic 
collectivism and political tyranny. Rather, he was now,  four years from his 
death, occupied in this short and forgotten volume with one  of the most 
fundamental questions of humankind: the basis and preservation of  our 
civilisation. 
By civilisation, Hayek meant the "extended order  of human cooperation", 
also known ("misleadingly") as capitalism. This order,  and, more 
specifically, the traditional morality upon which it rested, Hayek  claimed, 
has been 
enabled by something other than human instinct and other than  reason. The 
fatal conceit itself, he explained, is excessive faith in reason,  based on an 
erroneous and dangerous notion that we can construct what in fact we  must 
inherit or learn. This conceit is fatal because it results in the collapse  
of society and the return to savage instinct. Rather, morality lies between  
instinct and reason, and "learning how to behave is more the source than the 
 result of insight, reason, and understanding". 
Unlike his economic and political philosophies,  Hayek's moral philosophy 
is less known, and yet it formed the culmination of his  life's work. His 
critique of reason is profound, but his own understanding of  traditional 
morality is found lacking, and he appears to have agreed. 
Hayek sees the centralising impulse of  contemporary Western political 
economy as stemming from a "presumptive  rationalism" which he calls 
"scientism" 
or "constructivism", and which expresses  the "spirit of the age". This 
presumption is the product of a "litany of  errors", which he seeks to 
disentangle and expose. Specifically, he cites four  basic philosophical 
concepts 
which, during the past several hundred years, have  formed the basis of this 
way of thinking: rationalism, which denies the  acceptability of beliefs 
founded on anything but experience and reasoning;  empiricism, which maintains 
that all statements claiming to express knowledge  are limited to those 
depending for their justification on experience;  positivism, which is defined 
as 
the view that all true knowledge is scientific,  in the sense of describing 
the coexistence and succession of observable  phenomena; and 
utilitarianism, which "takes the pleasure and pain of everyone  affected by it 
to be the 
criterion of the action's rightness". 
Hayek asserts that "in such definitions, one  finds quite explicitly...the 
declarations of faith of modern science and  philosophy of science, and 
their declarations of war against moral traditions",  because "the leading 
moral 
traditions that have created and are creating our  culture...cannot be 
justified in such ways". 
To clarify, Hayek induces from these definitions  several related 
presuppositions on the part of the critics of traditional  morality: that it is 
unreasonable to follow what one cannot justify  scientifically or prove 
observationally; that it is unreasonable to follow what  one does not 
understand; 
that it is unreasonable to follow a particular course  unless its purpose is 
fully specified in advance; and that it is unreasonable to  do anything unless 
its effects are not only fully known in advance, but also  fully observable 
and — as far as utilitarianism is concerned — seen to be  beneficial. When 
morality is founded on reason, moreover, it follows that what  is 
unreasonable also becomes morally dubious. 
The problems with these approaches, Hayek  explains, are that they show no 
awareness that there might be limitations to our  knowledge or reason in 
certain areas; they do not consider that part of  science's task is to discover 
those limits; and they show no curiosity about how  the extended order 
actually came into being, how it is maintained, and what  might be the 
consequences of undermining or destroying those traditions which  did create 
and do 
maintain it. 
The connection between constructivist rationalism  (the construction of 
morality from scratch) and socialist thought, Hayek argues,  is that they both 
flow from conceiving order as arrangement and control on the  basis of 
accumulation of all the facts. But, as Hayek earlier showed in his  landmark 
1945 
essay, "The Use of Knowledge in Society", the extended order could  not be 
such an order, for accumulation of all the requisite facts is simply  
impossible. Now he asserts that, similarly, the practices of traditional  
morality 
not only do not, but cannot, meet the requirements or criteria demanded  by 
scientism. Hence they are necessarily "unreasonable" and "unscientific".  
Hayek insists, though, that this is not "news", for      David  Hume 
(1711-76) observed centuries ago that "the rules of morality are not the  
conclusions of our reason". 
And this is not simply the case with traditional  morals (including God, 
sex, family, and — particularly of interest to Hayek —  private property, 
saving, exchange, honesty, truthfulness and contract), but "is  also true of 
any possible moral code, including any that socialists might ever  be able to 
come up with". Hence were we to pursue this perilous path — as "all  
versions of scientism have advised" — we would soon "be back at the level of 
the  
savage who trusts only his instincts". No argument about morals, therefore, 
can  legitimately turn on the issue of scientific justification, because it 
cannot be  achieved, so nothing can be gained-but everything can be lost. 
Having established the limits of reason in a  construction of morality, 
Hayek begins, however, to take a dubious turn. He  asserts that "while our 
moral traditions cannot be constructed, justified or  demonstrated in the way 
demanded, their processes of formation can be partially  reconstructed, and in 
doing so we can to some degree understand the needs that  they serve". He 
sees this as a historical or natural-historical investigation,  resembling 
what followers of Hume called "conjectural history", and not as an  attempt to 
construct, justify, or demonstrate the system itself. 
Why would we want to engage in such "rational  reconstruction?" Because 
doing so enables us "to improve and revise our moral  traditions by remedying 
recognisable defects by piecemeal improvement based on  immanent criticism, 
that is, by analysing the compatibility and consistency of  their parts, and 
tinkering with the system accordingly". 
On the face of it, this may appear  uncontroversial: after all, all moral 
systems, whether utilitarian, Revealed, or  other, are tinkered in this way. 
Indeed, tradition itself is largely the  accumulation over the ages of the 
sort of gradual "adaptations to the unknown"  that Hayek is describing. On 
such a reading, Hayek's enterprise is modest, and  he is simply encouraging 
intellectual humility in the encounter with traditional  morality. 
But there is a pivotal difference between  traditional moral tinkering and 
that which Hayek is suggesting: those  traditional moral systems usually had 
Revelatory foundations and an associated  telos which made the improvements 
philosophically coherent and intellectually  rigorous. One wonders, then, 
what Hayek understands to be the source of  traditional morality, the means 
by which morality can be tinkered with, and the  end to which morality aims. 
Put differently, what is it, according to Hayek,  that justifies traditional 
morality? 
In trying to provide a "rational reconstruction"  of morality, and thereby 
understand its formation, Hayek recognises the dilemma,  finding himself "in 
the embarrassing position of wanting to claim that it must  be 
the...economists" who are most able to explain those moral traditions that  
made the 
growth of civilisation possible. It is embarrassing because these are  the same 
specialists who are "infected with constructivism". This recognition is  
instructive for two reasons. First, because it is surely not coincidental that 
 those best placed to comment on the formation of morality (its source,  
development and, based on its successes, purpose) are also those most inclined 
 to construct a new morality, a relation that calls into question Hayek's  
insistence on the differentiation between construction and reconstruction. 
Second, because Hayek betrays a tacit telos of  morality as he understands 
it. In speaking specifically of "those moral  traditions that made the 
growth of civilisation possible", he indicates why he  considers traditional 
morality to be important; it emerges that a moral system  is evaluated by its 
propensity to "nourish larger numbers" of people and enable  its adherents to 
"outstrip others whose morals were better suited to the  achievement of 
different aims". 
Hayek anticipates this reaction, though, and  notes that, "although this 
morality is not 'justified' by the fact that it  enables us to do these 
things, and thereby to survive, it does enable us to  survive, and there is 
something perhaps to be said for that" (emphasis is  his). In a sense, Hayek is 
of 
course correct: there is a great deal to be said  for survival. But the 
insight is also deeply tautological, and it sheds further  light on his 
affinity to Hume and reliance on "immanent criticism". In effect,  the 
assumption 
underlying Hayek's approach is that we should aspire only to  maintain and 
improve our material condition, without much thought as to whether  such a 
goal is morally desirable. The system becomes its own justification, and  the 
only rationale that we can advance is that it has enabled us to survive.  
Morality thus becomes the means by which we live together and prosper  
materially, rather than vice versa. 
Again, though, one might retort that Hayek's  enterprise is more modest 
than the foregoing has implied. All he is doing,  perhaps, is inoffensively 
presuming that suffering is generally bad; that  alleviating suffering is 
generally good; that largely sticking with what we  know, along with occasional 
marginal improvements, is the recommended course,  for it has delivered the 
greatest prosperity known to man; and that this agenda  is threatened by 
scientism and rationalism. 
However, even this limited reading encounters  problems of its own. Aside 
from its exposure to the criticisms outlined above,  one might additionally 
observe that the greatest increases in Western prosperity  have occurred 
during the last couple of centuries, coinciding with some of the  greatest 
challenges to traditional morality. It is very possible that  capitalism's 
economic creative destruction might not be as independent of  scientism's moral 
creative destruction as Hayek might wish to imagine. With this  possibility in 
mind, a staunch moral guide is surely needed to navigate the  
socio-economic upheavals of our day, and this modest interpretation of Hayek's  
project, 
though surely on the right lines, does not quite deliver it. 
Thus, the merits of his critique of reason  notwithstanding, Hayek's 
approach toward traditional morality is lacking.  Interestingly, Hayek, 
troubled 
by the inadequacies of his inquiry, appears to  have agreed with this 
assessment. 
In his final reflections, Hayek concedes that his  moral philosophy is 
deficient. After all, is it truly satisfying to live as  though man's, or at 
least society's, moral purpose in this world is mainly to  survive? In the 
final chapter, entitled "Religion and the Guardians of  Tradition", Hayek tries 
to answer how practices that people dislike, whose  effects they cannot have 
anticipated, could have been passed down the  generations. He notes that 
"part of the answer" is the evolution of moral orders  through group selection 
(morality has survived because it has enabled its  adherents to survive). 
"But," he adds, "this cannot be the whole story." Yet, he  asks, if the 
beneficial effects of morality were not known in advance, whence  did morality 
originate? And how has morality endured despite the opposition of  instinct 
and, more recently, the assaults of reason? "Here we come to  religion." 
Like it or not, Hayek writes, "we owe the  persistence of certain practices 
and the civilisation that resulted from them,  in part to support from 
beliefs which are not true — or verifiable or testable —  in the same sense as 
are scientific statements". Like others, he is "not  prepared to accept the 
anthropomorphic conception of a personal divinity", yet  "the premature loss 
of what we regard as nonfactual beliefs would have deprived  mankind of a 
powerful support in the long development of the extended order that  we now 
enjoy." The loss of these beliefs now would still create "great  
difficulties", hence "even an agnostic ought to concede that we owe our morals, 
 
and...not only our civilisation but our very lives, to the acceptance of such  
scientifically unacceptable factual claims." 
These admissions, however, pose a further  difficulty. Hayek appreciates 
the role of the monotheistic religions (and those  which endorse private 
property) in sustaining our civilisation, and he  recognises that, just as 
today's specialists cannot construct a morality with  knowledge of its effects, 
so 
these religions could not have been established by  a conspiratorial elite 
serving some noble lie or opiate to the masses. But he is  unwilling to take 
the faithful step and thereby understand these religions (and  the moral 
systems they profess) on their own terms. He seems to share Napoleon's  
sentiment that "I do not see in religion the mystery of the Incarnation, so 
much  
as the mystery of the social order." 
This hesitation leaves Hayek advising  contemporary society to appreciate 
the limits of its knowledge but calling upon  man to follow laws of morality 
largely based on religious ideas in which man  need not believe. Why, 
though, should man do so? To this, Hayek can only offer  the familiar answer 
that 
traditional morality is the only way of which we know  that civilisation can 
endure. But the implication is that man should suppress  instinct (and the 
prospect of immediate pleasure) or disregard reason simply in  order to 
bequeath civilisation to the next generation. Hayek is aware of the  
deficiencies of this uninspiring rationale and appears to remain dissatisfied.& 
 
"I long hesitated whether to insert this personal  note here," Hayek wrote, 
referring to these remarks on religion. He decided to  do so, he explained, 
because hearing these arguments from a "professed agnostic"  might 
encourage religious people "to pursue those conclusions that we do  share". 
Hayek spent his life arguing for man's freedom.  The Fatal Conceit was his 
last contribution to that effort. The  question, though, is how man should 
then use that freedom. And that is the  question Hayek was unable to answer 
because he could not cross the faithful  threshold. Nevertheless, he 
recognised, in his final published words, that "on  that question may rest the 
survival of our  civilisation".

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