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Epistemology

Ivermectin & Epistemology

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Americans who have decided to forgo vaccination have been hard hit by COVID. In response, some have been self-medicating with ivermectin. While this drug is best known as a horse de-wormer, the same drug is also used to treat humans for a variety of conditions. And, of course, many medications are used to treat conditions they were not originally intended to treat. Viagra is a famous example of this. As such, the idea of re-purposing a medication is not foolish. But there are obvious problems with taking ivermectin to treat COVID. The most obvious one is that there is not a good reason to believe that the drug is effective; people would be better off seeking established treatment. Another problem is the matter of dosing—the drug has the potential for serious side-effects even at the correct dosage. Since I am not a medical doctor, my main concern is not with the medical aspects of the drug, but with the epistemology. That is, I am interested in why people believe they should take the drug. Though the analysis will focus on ivermectin, the same mechanisms work broadly in belief formation.

Those most likely to use the drug are people in areas hit hard by COVID and subject to anti-vaccine and anti-mask messages from politicians and pundits. These two factors are related: when people do not get vaccinated and do not take precautions against infection, then they are more likely to get infected. This is why there is such a clear correlation between COVID infection rates and the level of Trump support in an area. Crudely put, we are now in what could be justly called the Republican Pandemic. As I discussed in previous essays, the trend in Republican political thought is authoritarianism and the rejection of expertise. There is also a clear desire to “own the libs” by rejecting their beliefs and doing things to make liberals mad. Liberals want people to get vaccinated and wear masks, so “owning the libs” here puts a person at greater risk for COVID. Once a person gets infected, then they need treatment. But why go with ivermectin over proven methods? This seems to be the result of how the right’s base forms their beliefs.

The right’s base seems especially vulnerable to grifters and thus inclined to believe what grifters tell them. This is not because they are less intelligent or less capable than liberals; rather it seems to result from two main factors. The first is that the American right tends to be more authoritarian and thus more inclined to believe because an authority figure they accept tells them to believe. The second is that the American right has waged a long war on critical thinking and expertise—hence people on the right are less inclined to use critical thinking tools effectively in certain contexts and they are likely to dismiss experts who they do not regard as authority figures worthy of their trust.

While ivermectin is being studied scientifically, there is currently no evidence that it can effectively treat COVID. But a small and growing industry has arisen for providing people with unproven or discredited treatments for COVID. While some might be well-intentioned, much of it is a simple grift at the expense of those who have been systematically misled. As such, people believe ivermectin can help them because authority figures have told them they should. But, of course, there is the question of why ivermectin was chosen.

One likely reason is that ivermectin has been shown to impede the replication of the virus. Someone who is misled by wishful thinking would probably not consider the matter further; but it is important to note that this test was conducted in the laboratory using high concentrations of the drug that probably exceed what a human could safely use. To use an analogy, this is a bit like saying that fire is effective in killing the virus—that is true, but that does not make it an effective treatment in humans. As such, there is a bit of truth to the claim that ivermectin influences the virus. For some reason, certain people seem to consistently reason poorly in such contexts; I am inclined to chalk this up to wishful thinking.

There is also the fact that a single, unpublished paper influenced some countries to include the drug in their treatment guidelines. However, this paper was never published because the method used to gather the data is both irregular and unreliable. The company that gathered the data, Surgisphere, is already notorious for its role in scandals involving hydroxychloroquine studies. People seem to have a tendency to believe the first thing they hear about something, especially if they want it to be true—hence this discredited paper holds considerable influence. This is like the case in which those who think vaccines are linked to autism still believe in a long discredited study by a discredited doctor.

One might attempt to respond to this by arguing that there are other papers showing the effectiveness of ivermectin. While this would be a reasonable response if these papers were based on good data, they are not. As has been shown, they suffer from serious errors. But, once again, this does not seem to matter. People such as Preston Smiles, Sidney Powell and Joe Rogan have been promoting the drug and, of course, Fox News personalities have been praising it. It is essentially hydroxychloroquine 2.0. This takes us back to the appeal to authoritarianism: people are believing because authority figures are telling them to believe. There is also a fallacious appeal to authority in effect. For example, Joe Rogan is a comedian and not a doctor; yet people believe him because he is a celebrity.

People might also be motivated to accept the “evidence” of bad data and poor methods because doing so can seem rebellious—by rejecting the methodology of the experts they can see themselves as making up their own minds. By accepting what politicians and celebrities tell them. There might also be a conspiracy theory element at work as well; the idea that “they” do not want them to know about ivermectin (or whatever) and hence they want to believe it works.

At this point, ivermectin has been forged into a battle in the culture war. It must be said that the left helped weaponize it by mocking those who use the drug. But now that it is a political battle, the base will double down and defend it, despite a lack of evidence for their view. That is, they profess to believe because doing so is the stance of their tribe.

There have been efforts to conduct clinical trials of the drug, but these have bizarrely been met with hostility and threats from ivermectin proponents. On the positive side, there will be some data available from the people self-medicating. Unfortunately, it will not be very good data because it will mostly be a collection of self-reported anecdotes. Once again, the deranged culture war of the right is hurting people. Although, as always, some are making a sweet profit.

From the standpoint of reliably forming true beliefs, this approach is the opposite of what a person should take.  Believing based on political authorities, grifters and celebrities claim is not a reliable way to have true beliefs. Accepting flawed studies as evidence is, by definition, a bad idea from the standpoint of believing true things. But these belief forming mechanisms do have advantages.

The politicians, celebrities, and grifters obviously benefit from their base having these ways of forming beliefs. Those who form the beliefs also get something out of it; they can feel the pleasure of expressing their loyalty, the reassurance of wishful thinking, the warm glow of unity with their tribe, and the hot fire of angering the other tribe.

 

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Practical Epistemology: The Lab Hypothesis for COVID

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As a philosopher, I annoy people in many ways. One of these ways is that I almost always qualify the claims I make. This is not to engage in weasling (weakening a claim to protect it from criticism) but because of my awareness of my epistemic limitations: as Socrates famously said, I know that I know nothing. People generally prefer claims made with bold certainty and can see expressions of doubt as signs of weakness and a lack of confidence. Another way I annoy people is by presenting alternatives to my claims/views and providing reasons as to why they might also be true/correct. Doing so has the downside of making matters more complicated and can easily confuse someone. A common response I get to such behavior is an exasperated “what do you really believe!?!” I then annoy the person more by noting what I think is probably true/correct but also noting that I can always be wrong. For the obvious reason that I can always be wrong. I also create annoyance by adjusting my views based on credible changes in the available evidence. This really seems to annoy people; one is presumably supposed to stick to one view and adjust the evidence to suit it rather than the other way. The origin story of COVID-19 provides an excellent example for this discussion.

When COVID first appeared in China, speculation began as to its origin and people often combine distinct claims without considering that they can be separated. One set of claims deals with the origin of COVID. The main claims here are that it is either naturally occurring or the virus was engineered in the lab. At this point, the best explanation is that the virus is naturally occurring. But since humans do engineer viruses, it is certainly possible that the virus was engineered. The obvious challenge is to provide proof for this claim—merely asserting it is not enough. So, at this point my annoying position is that the best evidence is that the virus is naturally occurring, but that new evidence could change my position. After all, I am not devoted to any particular origin but to the truth.

Another set of claims deals with the origin of the infection. Some claim that it entered the human population through a wet market. Some claim that it arrived via some other human-bat interactions. There is also the claim that it originated from a lab in China. All of these are certainly viable points of origin. We know that diseases can originate in markets and spread. We know that labs are run by people and people do make mistakes and can be quite sloppy at work. We know that humans do have interactions with animals and disease can spread this way.

In the recent past, I favored the wet market hypothesis because that seemed to be the best supported by the available evidence. Diseases do jump from livestock to humans, so this claim is plausible. Recently, however, the possibility that the virus leaked from the lab has gained more credibility. While there is not yet decisive evidence, this hypothesis is now credible enough to warrant serious investigation. I do not have a vested interest in backing any hypothesis; so at this point my annoying view is that I am unsure

The third set of claims deals with whether it was intentional or not. Some claim that the virus entered the human population by accident—that no one intended for this to happen. There are also claims that the virus was intentionally introduced, and the exact nefarious reason varies from hypothesis to hypothesis. Accidents are regular occurrences—things are literally always going wrong in the world. But we also know that there are people who intentionally do evil and that they have various reasons for doing so, ranging from making money, to getting more power, to seeking revenge, to all the other reasons people do bad things. As it now stands, there is little or no evidence that a malign actor intentionally introduced the virus into the population—but evidence could certainly arise. People have, obviously enough, done worse things. The malign actor hypothesis is an umbrella: one must also select specific evildoers as the culprit—though there could, of course, be many. As always, evidence is needed to support any claims.

It is important to distinguish between the different claims and to note that evidence that supports one claim need to support another claim often associated with it. A common mistake people make is confusing how conjunctions work with how disjunctions work. In logic, a disjunction is an “or” claim which is true when one or both of the disjuncts is/are true. For example, if I say that I will bring beer and tequila to the party, then my claim is true unless I show up with neither. Showing up with one or the other or both makes that disjunction true. In the case of a conjunction, both conjuncts must be true for the statement to be true. So, If I say I will bring hot dogs and buns to the party, then I must show up with both for my claim to be true. While it might seem like an odd and obvious mistake, people can treat a conjunction like a disjunction when they want to claim the conjunction is true. In some cases, people will do this intentionally and in bad faith. This has been done in the case of COVID.

As noted above, the lab leak hypothesis for COVID is gaining credibility. Because of this, some people might be tempted to conclude that this shows that the virus was manufactured. The person could think that because there is reason to believe that the virus leaked from the lab, then it is also true that it was manufactured. If it is true that the virus was leaked, then one part of the claim “the virus was manufactured and leaked” would be true, namely that it was manufactured. As such, someone might be tempted to take the entire claim to be true (or make the claim in bad faith). After all, if it were true that the virus was leaked, then it would be true that it was leaked or it was manufactured. But this would be a matter of logic; it would thus also be true that the virus was leaked, or unicorns exist. As always, it is important to determine which part of a conjunction is supported by the evidence—if both claims are not supported, then you do not have good reason to accept the conjunction as true. The last annoying thing I will look at is the fact that being right does not mean a person was justified.

So, suppose it is determined that the virus was leaked from the lab. Many of those who are devoted to this claim will take this as vindication that they were right all along. On the one hand, they would be correct: they were right all along, and other people were wrong. But ever since at least Plato philosophers have distinguished between having a true belief and having justification for this belief. One can be right for a variety of bad reasons, such as simply guessing or from prejudice. For example, a person who likes horror-sci fi might go with the lab leak because they like that kind of narrative. As another example, a racist might go with the lab leak because of their prejudice towards Asians. A nationalist might go with the lab leak because they think China is an inferior country. And so on. But believing on these grounds would not justify the belief—they would have just gotten lucky. As such, their “victory” is a matter of luck—they just happened to guess right.

One thing people often find confusing about critical thinking and science is that a person can be initially justified in a belief that turns out to wrong. The initial evidence can sometimes warrant belief in claims that are later disproved. Roughly put, a person would be wrong but have all the right reasons to believe. Some of this is because of the problem of induction (with inductive reasoning, the conclusion can always turn out to be false) and some of it is because humans have limited and flawed epistemic abilities. People who do not understand this will tend to think these good methods are defective because they do not always get the truth immediately and they do not really get that a person can be reasoning well and yet end up being wrong. Oddly, they often seem fine with methods of belief formation that are incredibly unreliable, such as following authoritarian leaders or unqualified celebrities.  When the evidence does support them, they do not seem to get that this is how the process works: false claims, one hopes, eventually get shown to be false and better supported claims replace them. As such, the people who rejected the lab hypothesis earlier because of the lack of evidence but are now willing to consider the evidence for it are doing things right: they are adjusting based on the evidence. I suspect that some approach belief in claims like they might see religion: you must pick one and stick with it and if you just so happen to luck out and be right, then you win. But that is not how rational belief works.

What, then, about someone who believed in the lab hypothesis early on and was rational about it? Well, to the degree they had rational warrant for their claim, then they deserve credit for it. However, if they simply held to the belief without adequate justification, then their being correct would turn out to be largely a matter of chance and not the result of some special clarity of reason and evidence. To close, people should keep advancing plausible alternatives—that is an important function in seeking the truth. So those who kept the lab hypothesis going because they rationally considered it a possible explanation do deserve their due credit.

 

 

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Metaphysics of Chance

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Dice (unloaded) seem to be a paradigm example of chance: when one rolls a die, one cannot know the outcome because it is supposed to be random. For example, if you roll a twenty-sided die, then there is an equal chance for any number to come up. If you roll the die 20 times, you would not be surprised if you did not roll every number on the die. If you rolled the doe 100 times, chance would indicate that you would roll each number 5 times—but it would not be shocking if this did not occur. But if you rolled 1,000 times or a million times, then you would expect the results to match the predicted probability very closely—that is, you would expect the law of large numbers to be in effect.

While dice provide a simple example of chance, the world is full of what seems to be chance.  For example, diseases are presented in terms of chance: a person has X% chance of catching the disease and, if it can be fatal, they have a Y% chance of dying from it. Deadly dice of disease, indeed. While the actual method of calculating chance in the context of death by a disease is complicated, the very rough idea involves determining the number of people in a category who become infected and the number in that group who die. To use a made-up example, if 1 person out of every 100 dies, then the chance of dying from infection would be a scary 1%.

This estimate can be off for many reasons, but one obvious concern is that one is estimating probability based on the outcome. That this is a problem can be shown by imagining an artificial scenario in which you are given the results of repeated rolling of a die, and you are trying to figure out from that the type of die that is being rolled and whether it is weighted in some manner. You could, of course, make some reasonable inferences. For example, if the highest number you are given is a 30, you know that the die has at least 30 sides. Matters also become more complicated if you are not sure that a die is being rolled—you might be given numbers generated by some other means. The person giving you the numbers could select them to create the impression of chance—even though they are intentionally selected. One could, for example, create the impression that they are rolling a 20-sided die by picking numbers to create the expected results for such a die. A similar sort of thing could occur in the world, something that can be illustrated by the disease example.

Let us imagine two universes. Universe A is a random universe that has real chance and probability (whatever that might mean). In that world, there would be a metaphysical and metaphorical roll of the dice to determine outcomes that arise from chance. For example, a disease that had a 1% fatality rate would work like this (metaphorically): each infected person would get a roll with a d100 and if the result was a 01, then they would die. Thanks to the law of large numbers, if enough people got infected then this would work out to 1 in 100 people dying in this random universe.  Naturally, smaller numbers will not match the 1 in 100 perfectly—but with a large enough number of infections the 1 in 100 will be achieved (oversimplifying things a bit). Now to universe B.

Universe B is not random—it could be a deterministic or pre-determined universe or whatever non-random reality you want. In this universe the disease kills 1 in 100 people, but this is not the result of chance. Out of every 100 infected people, there will be one who will die (this oversimplifies things a bit for the sake of the example). This is not due to chance since this is not (by hypothesis) a random universe. In terms of why it occurs, this will depend on the sort of non-random universe one has picked. For example, perhaps the universe is run by a god who has created the 1 in 100 death disease and has sorted out humans into groups of 100 using whatever standard the god has chosen.

From the standpoint of humans, this universe will (probably) appear identical to random universe A. After all, the samples people have will be imperfect and will create the impression that it is not a perfect 1 in 100 every time.  As such, it will seem random. Unless, of course, humans can figure out how the 100 person groups work. One could imagine a short story based on this idea in which scientists find that a disease is always fatal to 1 person out of a group of 100 people and the 100 person groups are divided up by the X factor they find. But if humans do not sort out the grouping, then the non-random universe would seem random because of human ignorance.

We do not, of course, know what sort of universe we live in. Roughly put, this might be a random universe and a 1 in 100 chance is “rolled” with metaphysical metaphorical dice. Or it might be a non-random universe in which a 1 in 100 “chance” means that it is “set” to happen once out of every group of 100. Unless we can identify the groupings and get complete data, then we will never know what sort of universe we inhabit.

 

 

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The Problem of Other Minds: The Aesthetic Solution

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In epistemology the problem of the external world is the challenge of proving that I can know that there are entities that exist other than me. Even if it is assumed that there is an external world, there remains the problem of other minds: the challenge of proving that I can know that there is at least one other being that has a mind. The common version of this problem tends to start with the assumption that other beings exist, and the challenge is to prove that I can know that these other beings have minds (or lack minds). Our good dead friend Descartes offered the best-known effort to solve the problem of the external world and in trying to solve this problem he also, perhaps unintentionally, attempted to solve the problem of other minds.

In his Meditations Descartes set out to create an infallible foundation of knowledge by his method of doubting his beliefs until he found a belief he could not doubt.  As part of this project, he hoped to solve the problem of the external world. After his doubting spree in the first Meditation, he took his belief that he thinks and the belief that he exists to be certain and indubitable.  In trying to prove that something exists other than him, Descartes attempts to prove that God exists—that is, he attempted to solve the problem of the external world by solving a version of the problem of other minds. Proving that God exists would prove that another mind exists, thus solving a limited version of each problem.

While Descartes grinds through a plethora of proofs, his key reasoning for the purposes of this essay is his notion that the cause of a belief must contain as much reality as the belief itself. Roughly put, you can think of this reasoning as analogous to reasoning that whatever charged a mobile phone battery must have at least as much power as in in the battery (assuming the battery charged from zero). Descartes based this reasoning on the principle that something cannot arise from nothing.

Roughly put, Descartes claimed that his idea of God is such that he could not be the cause of this idea—it had to be caused by something external to him. For example, Descartes notes that God is perfect and argues that he could not get the idea of a perfect being from his imperfect self. As another example, Descartes claims that God is infinite and that he (Descartes) could not create the idea of infinity from himself. From this he infers that God exists. He then goes on to argue that since God is perfect it follows that God is not a deceiver. Descartes then concludes that since God created us, we can generally trust our senses and thus we can infer that there is an external world. While this does not address the common version of the problem of other minds, it does offer a solution to the narrowest version: it does attempt to show that Descartes is not the only mind. In philosophical terms, success in this challenge would refute solipsism. That is the philosophical view that I am the only being in existence. Or, alternatively, it could be taken as the view that I am the only mind (thinking being) that exists. While I think that Descartes’ efforts to find certainty failed, his attempted solution to the problem of other minds provides a model that I will steal to attempt a solution to the problem of the other mind. My goal is modest: I am not trying to prove that other people have minds, I am just endeavoring to show that there is at least one other mind. I will do this with an aesthetic argument that was inspired by the combination of watching Wandavision and teaching Epistemology via Zoom this semester.

While teaching my Epistemology class at squares on Zoom I mentioned Wandavision as an example and had the realization that the quality of the show could be used to argue for the existence of other minds. While Descartes argued that the cause of an idea must equal or exceed the reality of the idea, I will replace this with the principle that cause of an idea must equal or exceed the quality of the idea in terms of creativity. As such, to show that something exists other than me, I just need to find an idea (or ideas) whose content exceeds my own creativity. That is, I need to find ideas that I could not create. This is extremely easy.

Wandavision, the show that inspired this argument, exceeds my creative abilities—I lack the skill and talent to write such a series. I can obviously say the same about many other movies, books, and stories—they are beyond my skill to create. As a writer, I am aware of the limits of my abilities and hence can safely draw these conclusions. I can also add in other art, such as music and drawing. I know my skills at music (none) and drawing (very limited) and know that I lack the ability to create most works I have heard or seen. Since I could not create such works, then there must be at least one other mind that is creating these works. There might be only one mind—it could be electing to create works of varying degrees. Or there might be many other minds creating these works. This does not, of course, show that there is an external world of the sort I think exists—it could be (as Descartes considered) just me and one other being who is causing all these ideas in my mind. While I would condemn the deception, I must thank them for the high quality works they create for me. As such, I can infer that at least one other mind exists and that I am not alone. But there are counter arguments.

One obvious counter argument is that I have an unknown talent or skill that allows me to create such works without being aware I am doing so. That is, I cannot consciously create such quality, but I can do so without being aware I am doing so. One could point to dreams as an obvious example of such creation: the best explanation for dreams is that their content is coming from me although I lack conscious control. My reply is to point out that my dreams do not match the quality of the works I encounter in the waking world in terms of the stories. Any art I see or music I hear in my dreams are always mere copies from when I am awake (or think I am awake) or of low quality. As such, I would seem to lack such a hidden and unknown faculty of creativity. I do agree it is not a logical impossibility that I have such a faculty, but there is no evidence for it existing beyond explaining my aesthetic experiences without any other mind existing—which would seem to be ad hoc.

A second obvious counter is to allow that something exists other than me, but this is not another mind. That is, the aesthetic experiences are created in a “mechanical” way without the sort of thinking that would be done by a mind. To use an analogy, this would be like having an AI art creator creating art without having a mind. There are two responses to this. The first is that this would still entail that I was not the only being in existence—there would also be this creator entity. The second is that such a high degree of creativity would seem to require a mind. It would pass tests analogous to the Turing test and thus is would be reasonable to infer there is at least one mind behind these creative works.

In closing, there are two main possibilities. The first is that I alone exist, and I have an unknown faculty of creativity that vastly exceeds my known skills and talents (and I can never consciously use these hidden abilities). The second is that at least one other being exists and is creating these works.

 

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What Next for QAnon?

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According to Q, Donald Trump is engaged in a war against a conspiracy of deep-state agents and their celebrity allies. These foes of Trump are said to be involved in Satanism, pedophilia, child trafficking and efforts to extend their life through diabolic means. The members of QAnon believe that Trump will crush his foes in the Storm, which is the QAnon mini apocalypse.

Members of QAnon were among those who stormed the capitol. Given their belief that he won the election and still must bring the storm, this behavior makes sense: they see themselves as heroes fighting on the side of their righteous messiah. This perception of Trump, a vile and soulless husk of a grifter, is perhaps the most wrong of their mistaken beliefs. As I discussed in an earlier essay, QAnon has a key similarity to Millerism. The Millerites believed that Jesus would return to earth in 1843-1844 and this lead, obviously, to the Great Disappointment. Some Millerites gave up their belief in the prediction, while others insisted that it had come true and developed accounts to explain what they thought had happened. While Millerism is otherwise very different from QAnon, it and similar apocalyptic belief systems can be used as analogies to consider what might happen with QAnon.

It is likely that Trump’s failed attempt to overthrow the election and his impotence in the face of Biden legitimately taking office has demoralized some QAnon members—they have experienced the QDisappointment and it has broken their faith. But people with the sort of belief forming mechanisms that allow a person to embrace QAnon can clearly reject clear and evident facts in favor of a deranged and unfounded fiction. As such, it is likely that many of them are up to the task of interpreting or ignoring the facts to fit their fiction. They can, for example, tell themselves that Trump has made a strategic move to lull his enemies into complacency: once the Democrats and their celebrity allies believe they are in control, Trump and his army will strike again. And this time, one must QAssume, they will succeed.  Ted Cruz and the QAnon members of the House are also helping to feed this belief, although Trump has fallen silent because of his exile from social media. But the silence of their messiah might drown out these words of the lesser heroes of QAnon and this could weaken the resolve of the faithful—or they might find a new hobby or cult to occupy their time.

When the Storm does not arrive soon, the remaining faithful will need to modify their beliefs once again. Perhaps Trump plans to bring the Storm in 2024 when he runs for president again. Some might decide that they need to take matters into their own hands and engage in domestic terrorism on behalf of Trump while others might decide that Trump was a false messiah—there are certainly people who would love to become the new messiah of Q. Still others might take the view that one of Trump’s children is the true Trump messiah and create a Q Anon splinter faction around one or more of them. QAnon might, like other cults, evolve into a religion—we might see a respected Church of Q in a thousand years, with tales of the miracles of St. Rudy and the prophecy that Trump will return for his Second Term—and then the Storm will strike the wicked. Or, one can hope, QAnon will fade away into obscurity and receive brief mention only in textbooks and documentaries about cults.

 

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Moral Mask, Rationalizing or Mental Illness?

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Before, during and after the election Trump and his allies tried to undermine democracy with lies. As this is being written, the worst outcome of these lies was when Trump followers attacked the capitol after Trump incited them. While the right tried to blame the attack on Antifa, the FBI quickly refuted this lie. Once it became clear that the attempted overthrow of the election had failed and the arrests began, members of Trump’s mob began pleading for pardons. While Trump did dispense many pardons, he had none for his capitol warriors—he abandoned them like they were an aging wife. Despite the lack of evidence for widespread fraud, despite the failure of the coup, and despite Joe being sworn in as president, the idea that the election was stolen persists and will, no doubt, be used to incite more domestic terrorism in the future. I am continuing my somewhat informal efforts in epistemic epidemiology and this persistent claim warrants ongoing analysis.

In some cases, those who claim widespread fraud are engaging in the rhetorical technique of moral masking. This occurs when a person claims motives that are morally superior to their true motives. They are, metaphorically speaking, donning a mask of goodness to conceal less laudable or even wicked motives. This method does have value as a persuasive tool: pretending to have laudable motivations can influence others to agree with one’s views or, at the very least, encourage them to be more tolerant of one’s actions. Trump and his fellows said that they were refusing to accept the results of a legitimate election because they want Trump to remain in power to continue to get what they want, would probably have less persuasive power than their lies.

This method often includes lying about the morality of one’s actions and being deceitful in related claims and arguments. Trump and his allies presented themselves as acting correctly in their efforts to undermine democracy, lied about fraud, and advanced what were at best bad faith arguments. Trump and his allies did, however, seem to be aware they were lying. But some of his supporters undoubtably tried to convince themselves that they were acting rightly.

While those putting on the moral mask know they are engaged in deceit, people also rationalize. While the moral mask could be presented as a form of rationalization, rationalization involves an effort at self-deception. The person engages in an action (which might be telling a lie) because of a specific motivation and then attempts to present a better motivation as their true motive. This typically involves trying to justify the action by convincing oneself (and perhaps others) that the motives were rational or good. The attempt to persuade oneself might fail, but there is at least the attempt to do so—this distinguishes rationalization from simple lying and from the moral mask method.

Since people rarely admit to rationalizing as they are doing it, it can be challenging to determine when someone is engaged in this behavior. After all, the outward behavior of someone engaged in rationalizing will typically not reveal that they are rationalizing. Sorting out when this is occurring usually requires knowing the person well enough to make plausible assessments of their real motives. While it seems likely that some or even many of Trump’s supporters have been rationalizing, I have no way of confirming this unless they admit to doing so.

Trump supporters can also, obviously, believe Trump’s lies and believe what they are doing is right. Given the utter lack of evidence for the claims of widespread fraud and Trumps repeated failures in court (even with judges his administration appointed) a person would need to engage awful reasoning (or no reasoning at all) to believe Trump’s lies. Wishful thinking, fallacious appeal to authority, and appeal to authoritarian would be but some of the likely fallacies that would lead someone to believing Trump. There are also numerous cognitive biases that would influence how his supporters form their false beliefs, such as confirmation bias.

Trump’s supporters are obviously not unique in falling for fallacies and rhetoric. They are also not unique in having cognitive biases. However, their believes are dangerous to themselves and others, as the attack on the capitol showed. In most cases, I hope, his supporters are suffering from normal issues with their belief forming mechanisms. While these issues are severe, they would be within the realm of normalcy and could perhaps be treated. Some treatment would involve improving their critical thinking skills, but treatment would also require motivating them to apply such skills. Perhaps the shock of Trump’s craven and utter betrayal of his capitol storming mob will help some of his followers escape the lies of Trump through normal means. But some of Trump’s followers exhibit the classic behavior of cultists and their minds exist within a fictional reality constructed by Trump and the right-wing media. Those who fully embrace QANon are an excellent example of this.

While there is a grey area between epistemic issues and mental illness, it seems likely that some of Trump’s followers crossed over from normal errors of belief to such corrupted belief-forming mechanisms that they would require medical treatment to recover or achieve some degree of mental health. This sort of mental illness would, obviously, be outside of the domain of philosophy and would be in the field of psychiatry. This is not to say that one could not apply epistemic theory to such belief formation, just that it would be so pathological that it becomes a concern for medical doctors.

It must be noted that when I consider that some Trump supporters might be mentally ill, I am not disparaging them or joking; the seriousness of their condition invokes only concern and worry. While some might be engaged in moral masking, rationalizing or merely deceived, some do seem to exist within a world disconnected from reality in a way that seems to be a form of madness. I am, obviously, not qualified to make such medical judgments—all I can do is point out that their belief forming mechanisms are so corrupted that they have left the realm of epistemology and have probably entered the domain of medical science.

 

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