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Whatever happened to vaudeville? A reply to Professor Chomsky
Discussions
Whatever
happened
to vaudeville? A reply to Professor Chomsky
R. J. HERRNSTEIN Harvard University
Professor Chomsky winds up a discussion (1972)’ of some of my views on social stratification (1971) by listing what he calls my assumptions: ‘that people labor only for material gain, for wealth and power, and that they do not seek interesting work suited to their abilities - that they would vegetate rather than do such work (p. 40). Quite sensibly in the face of such strange assumptions, he rejects any conclusions that follow, especially since I offer ‘no reason why we should believe any of this (and there is certainly some reason why we should not)’ (p. 40). I agree completely, except that I made no such assumptions, nor are they required by any of my conclusions. Nevertheless, to be misread by a person of Professor Chomsky’s quickness of wit impels me to try to restate, perhaps to clarify, the part of my discussion that has eluded him. I believe that he was led astray because my conclusions run contrary to his political suppositions rather than by my prose style. In particular, my argument wrecks the egalitarianism to which Professor Chomsky, like many other American intellectuals, pays homage. First, what is my argument? Concisely stated, it is that, (1) since people inherit their mental capacities (as indexed, for example, in intelligence tests) to some extent, and (2) since success in our society calls for those mental capacities, therefore, (3), it follows that success in our society reflects inherited differences between people. To readers who have not worked their way through the 15,000 or so words leading up to that conclusion, my syllogism may seem rash and unsubstantiated. To those readers, I can only commend my original article. Since Professor Chomsky did not question the facts behind the two premises, I will not bother reviewing them here. Nor did Professor Chomsky object to the logical form of my argument, to the inevitability of (3), given (1) and (2). He did not even object to my use of such hazard1. Professor Chomsky’s discussion of my views appears, essentially word for word, in both Cognition (as part of a longer article)
and Ramparts (by itself). Page references here refer to the Cognition article.
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ous expressions as ‘mental capacities’ or ‘success.’ Some readers may wonder, at this point, what other objection there can be to a syllogism, besides to the factual truth of its premises, the logical soundness of its steps, or its definition of terms. That, I will come to in a moment. But first, I note that the second premise - that success in our society depends in some significant way on mental capacities - means specifically that mental competence is necessary, but not sufficient, for getting ahead. To put it yet another way, each level of success in our society, as defined by the members of society themselves, permits a range of intelligence, but the higher the level, the narrower the range. At the top of the scale of occupations, the intellectual requirement is set relatively high, but high intelligence does not guarantee success. This, too, is a factual assertion, which I therefore offer here without further substantiation. I focus on premise 2 because Professor Chomsky’s main argument centers thereon As he puts it: ‘This step in the argument embodies two assumptions: first, it is so in fact; and second, it must be so, for society to function effectively’ (p. 34). Professor Chomsky disputes only the inevitability of premise 2, not its current accuracy. But do I really assume that the second premise ‘must be so’? In fact, I find no such assumption in my article, nor can I see that I need it. For me, it is no disgrace if my argument holds merely for existing societies, not necessarily all possible ones. As regards societies about which we have some data, such as the American or the Japanese or the Western European or the Russian, Professor Chomsky apparently accepts premise 2, and so is inexorably carried on to my conclusion - that society will stratify itself increasingly by genetic factors as it divests itself of the barriers commonly held to be unfair - those of race, religion, family connections, inherited wealth, and so on. Or, at least, he has not at this time chosen to dispute my actual conclusion. Instead, his dispute is with a possibility I offer for scrutiny, which is that hereditary social classes may stratify not only existing societies but also any conceivable society in which merit is a factor in social status. Professor Chomsky challenges, then, not my conclusmn but my extrapolation, which is a distinction that I would like to register even as he overlooks it. Now, having made the distinction, I contend that his criticism of my extrapolation has barely a shred of merit, which, it seems to me, strengthens my case, for it would be a subtle flaw indeed that would elude Professor Chomsky’s sharp eye. Professor Chomsky notes that my argument ‘would not apply in a society in which “income (economic, social, and political) is unaffected by success”.’ (p. 34) That is correct, for in such a society, should it come to pass, the second premise may no longer hold. If people’s accomplishments did not gain the rewards society has to dispense, then, indeed, success (as measured by social rewards) might not depend in any significant way on mental capacities, thereby violating premise 2. But now, Professor Chomsky does something odd. Instead of depicting a hypothetical society without
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differential rewards, he instead postulates a society in which people are rewarded for their accomplishments ‘only by prestige.’ If they are differentially rewarded for their accomplishments, even if only by prestige, my syllogism applies, as Professor Chomsky admits. The second premise is back, albeit only for success defined by prestige - not by money or dachas or limousines or winter vacations in the Caribbean or on the Black Sea. In his idea of the ‘decent society,’ says Professor Chomsky, ‘It will only follow (granting his other assumptions [with which, I note, he registers no dispute at any point]) that children of people who are respected for their achievements will be more likely to be respected for their own achievements, an innocuous result even if true.’ (p. 35) Why does Professor Chomsky find it ‘innocuous’ for prestige to run in families? He does not say, but I believe it is because he thinks that if the sole status distinction between people is based on the prestige or respect they earn from their fellows, they will not suffer for their failures as much as they do in our society, in which the penalty for failure is poverty, or at least, relative poverty as compared to our society’s successful people. Let us, for argument’s sake, suppose that Professor Chomsky’s decent society could get its work done. It is, after all, possible (although rather unlikely, I wager) that a society using prestige as its only differential social reward could render prestige potent enough to sustain work no less well than do the rewards in our society, including money and power. But if prestige were that potent, then surely the lack of it would cause sadness and regret, just as the lack of money and power causes sadness and regret now. Perhaps it would be a kinder world than ours, if, in eliminating the suffering caused by relative poverty, it did not substitute equally, or more, painful psychic deprivations. But ‘innocuous’ hardly seems like the right word for a society stratified by a mortal competition for prestige. Professor Chomsky did not postulate any such competition, but that’s what he would find nevertheless, if prestige could be made potent enough to replace the material rewards of existing societies. Yet, if prestige were not that potent, could Professor Chomsky’s utopia get its work done? Does anyone doubt that the differential rewards granted in society function like the potential difference in an electrical circuit - as a kind of labor pump? By attaching different outcomes for different jobs, or for jobs done well or poorly, society directs the flow of labor one way or the other - as for example, out of vaudeville and into radio and motion pictures, which had captured its audience and the attendant multiple rewards. As a more timely example, consider the diminishing numbers of applicants for graduate schools and the lengthening queues for law and medical schools, precisely in tune with the shifting demands, and values, in society at large. Or remember that when the rewards for manufacturing spats disappeared, so did spats manufacturers. The inherent rewards of making spats, such as they were, could
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not have changed, but the extrinsic ones evaporated and so did the industry. Now, this is not to suggest that society always distributes its rewards sensibly, humanely, or even attractively, merely that the distribution expresses something like a social consensus, which then gets converted into human effort. Sometimes, because of extraneous perturbations, or short term influences, or structural inadequacies, the consensus may be faulty, as Professor Chomsky notes. Thus, our society may be harming itself in the long run by paying public relations experts such high salaries (to the irritation of both Professor Chomsky and me), thereby attracting into the business the bright people who then sell us a bill of goods. No doubt, Professor Chomsky rightly notes that such high salaries often come from the wealthy few who have a stake in keeping the rest of us fooled. But all is not lost, for there is glory (if not also money) waiting for the fellow who sets the public straight, like Ralph Nader perhaps, showing that the system may have more resiliency than Professor Chomsky supposes. In any case, the merits of a given social consensus as compared to another is immaterial to the issue, except insofar as Professor Chomsky thinks I approve of the American consensus on the values of various occupations and therefore holds me accountable for what he considers its flaws. Whether I approve or not, whether the consensus is wise or not, the point is simply that labor flows towards the rewards, and that if a given reward successfully guides the flow of labor, then it is valuable enough to cause psychological pain by its absence. The relevant principle is one that Professor Chomsky, in his distaste for Professor Skinner’s psychology, has apparently never grasped. If a reward can sustain effort by its acquisition then it will punish by its deprivation. Or, to be concrete about it -if, in Professor Chomsky’s hypothetical world, prestige and respect are strong enough to direct labor in accordance with the social consensus, then they are strong enough to bring unhappiness to those who fail to get it. It does not matter a bit whether the consensus comes from a free market, monopoly capitalists, or the central government, In all likelihood, however, Professor Chomsky did not mean to allow prestige to be all that important in his decent society. Although a bit vague on this point, I believe that he intended the differential reward of prestige to be ineffective, which is to say, he intended that it have little or no effect on the distribution of labor. For the moment, let us grant that work would go on anyway, a supposition I firmly disbelieve and will later reconsider. With prestige unimportant, Professor Chomsky correctly infers that the lack of prestige would cause no pain, and that distinctions would be ‘innocuous.’ But, if SO, he erred in concluding that prestige would then run in families. If prestige was an impotent reward (hence causing no suffering by its lack), then the better endowed people would not end up in the prestigious occupations. They would instead be randomly dispersed among the various occupational levels (except for another of Professor Chomsky’s implausible postulations, to which I also return
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later), and their children would be randomly dispersed too. Premise 2 is either right or wrong as a factual matter. If it is right (assuming premise 1 is right, too), then there will be a hereditary meritocracy and some people will suffer the pain of having lost out in the competition for society’s rewards. If it is wrong, then we have no grounds for inferring a hereditary meritocracy and no reason to suppose anyone is hurting for the lack of society’s impotent rewards. Perhaps Professor Chomsky erred because he forgot that one reason we now find the highly rewarded occupations usually filled by the better endowed people surely is that they enjoy a competitive advantage in the contest to fill the slots. The correlation between occupational level and intellect has something to do with the greater desirability of the better jobs, on the one hand, and the greater competence (on the average) of the intelligent, on the other. Professor Chomsky accepts the fact of a correlation now 2, predicts that there would be a correlation in his hypothetical world, but disbelieves that the extrinsic social rewards, which he would ban, have anything to do with it. But why, if society did not create a gradient of potent lures towards the various occupations - by money, power, prestige, or whatever - would there be any sort of correlation between intellect and occupational level (defined by some secret consensus of social utility that was not being translated into differential rewards)? Professor Chomsky apparently believes that the inherent pleasures of labor would yield a good, strong correlation anyway. ‘In a decent society everyone would have the opportunity to find interesting work, and each person would be permitted the fullest possible scope for his talents. Would more be required, in particular, extrinsic reward in the form of wealth and power? Only if we assume that applying one’s talents in interesting and socially useful work is not rewarding in itself, that there is no intrinsic satisfaction in creative and productive work, suited to one’s abilities, or in helping others (say, one’s family, friends, associates, or simply fellow members of society).’ (p. 35f) In short, his hypothetical society would sort people roughly the way a beehive sorts bees, by a differentiation in the individuals rather than in their 2. Here and there, Professor Chomsky muses about the importance of ruthlessnessand the like, as opposed to intellect, in the struggle for achievementin our society. He apparently does not know that the data on the matter show intellect, as indexed in I.Q. tests or just by schooling, to be a far better predictor than any measure of personality that might identify those who are ‘ruthless, cunning, avaricious, selfseeking, lacking in sympathy and compassion, subservient to authority and
willing to abandon principle for material gain,’ (p. 38) to quote Professor Chomsky’s formula for success in America. No doubt, given two people of equal intellect, personality and character may spell the difference, but even here, the data do not bear out Professor Chomsky’s gloomy vision. Instead, the ones who succeed tend, on the average, to be the buoyant, energetic, independent, healthy ones, although there are many interesting exceptions.
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extrinsic rewards. Only steady-handed, nerveless intellectuals would yearn to be surgeons; only true-earred, sensitive artists would crave to sing in public; only masters of logical complexity would declare themselves chessplayers (and no one must keep score at matches, for the pleasures of victory are paid for by the pain of defeat). And, at the other end of the range, the under-endowed would cheerily and spontaneously designate themselves assistant clerks or plumber’s helpers. That is how Professor Chomsky must get his correlation, for there would be no differences in pay, no differences in power, and such differences in respect as he grants would be ‘innocuous,’ which is to say, that they would not much affect the competition for jobs. There would only be differences in ‘intrinsic satisfaction in creative and productive work.’ Clearly, Professor Chomsky feels I have seriously underrated the power of that intrinsic satisfaction. And I grant that I hold it to be less important than he does, for, while he wants the world to run on it, I believe that human society can no more transform itself into a beehive than vice versa. I would say that the burden falls squarely on him to prove otherwise. It is not necesary to prove that work is sustained by a mixture of intrinsic and extrinsic rewards, and that both contribute to its attractiveness. To that extent I agree with Professor Chomsky when he says that the extrinsic rewards do not solely determine the distribution of labor. However, I know of no one who would disagree with him, not even Professor Skinner. Neither Professor Skinner nor I have any trouble understanding why house painters get more money for painting the outsides of houses than for painting the insides. They require extra extrinsic rewards to offset the intrinsic disadvantages of clinging to the 20th or 30th story on windy days, as compared to the safety indoors. Throughout the scale of occupations something similar operates. For a given level of social utility (not in any philosophical sense, but as measured by the prevailing consensus) the intrinsic and extrinsic benefits add up to something like a constant. Thus, Albert Schweitzer did not have to get paid a lot of money for his work in order to keep him going into old age, for the respect and the eternal reward he envisioned were apparently recompense enough. A society wisely praises such men ‘richly,’ if it is to have the fruits of great talent unstintingly dedicated. But such rich praise, as well as other sorts of riches, would have to be prohibited to inactivate my syllogism. The main issue between Professor Chomsky and me finally boils down to this. Suppose all extrinsic rewards for labor, from gratitude to cash, were somehow held constant over all occupations. Now, let only the intrinsic satisfactions vary as they will. Professor Chomsky supposes that in such a world, in which my syllogism would truly be innocuous, everything would go just fine. There would, he assumes, be no more clumsy surgeons, suicidal airplane pilots, inarticulate teachers, rude salesmen, out-of-tune singers in his ideal world than there are in the one we are living in.
Whatever happened
to vaudeville? A reply to Professor Chomsky
He supposes, in other words, that the matching of talent to occupation
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need owe nothing to society’s system of differential rewards. A remarkable supposition; to me utterly unbelievable. Moreover, Professor Chomsky supposes that in his world there would be no shortage of labor either, that somehow the intrinsic rewards of coal mining, ditch digging, schooling, garbage collecting, poodle clipping, even house painting, would keep the work at just the level society needs, neither too much nor too little. For he supposes that the extrinsic rewards contribute nothing essential to the monitoring of labor. The reason Professor Chomsky must be supposing these outlandish things is that, as he well knows, as soon as he grants a role to the extrinsic rewards, my syllogism starts cranking away. It changes my argument not at all if intrinsic satisfaction could account for some of the distribution of labor, for the distribution of external rewards will compensate for such complications as the social consensus dictates. An onerous but important job will draw rich rewards; a pleasurable, insignificant one will draw little if any. As long as some of the distribution of labor depends at all significantly upon differential extrinsic rewards, and as long as the likelihood of success depends upon inherited mental differences (which, please recall, Professor Chomsky grants, or at least does not challenge), then social standing will depend upon inherited differences to some degree. Professor Chomsky may find me lacking in imagination. Why, he may ask, can I not picture his revolutionary new man or woman, eager to serve the decent society for no differential rewards except the sense of a useful job well done. The answer is that I know what has happened before when the state has told its citizens henceforth to be good and productive for the sake of the state (usually in the name of the ‘people’), instead of for their own sakes, and then enforces its vision of ‘classlessness.’ History does not encourage further ventures of that sort, at least, it does not encourage me. Soon after the leaders discover that selflessness cannot be counted upon, they are most likely to impose a gradient of punishment, which may have about the same potential for producing labor as our society’s gradient of’ reward, except that it is bound to be more, rather than less, cruel. It hardly looks like an improvement to substitute imprisonment or forced labor camps for poverty (especially when the poverty persists). Not that I think Professor Chomsky favors any such reign of terror, but he might have little to say at that point, for the revolution’s visionaries are often among its first victims. Professor Chomsky surely knows that the persistent status differentials in all socialist states follow directly from individual differences in ability and the Skinnerian principles of reward and punishment that he so contemptuously, and repeatedly, keeps dismissing. He must therefore tell us how his decent society will steer its way between those venerable human limitations. SO much for the main issue between Professor Chomsky and me. Unlike some of my more vehement critics, Professor Chomsky does not accuse me of racism, for
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which I am grateful. However, he does hold me accountable for making an argument that ‘will surely be exploited by racists to justify discrimination.’ (p. 41) Unfortunately for the sake of further discussion, Professor Chomsky fails to say which of my arguments will have that unwholesome consequence, which makes his assertion difficult either to evaluate or refute. Professor Chomsky does, however, provide what he considers an analogous case to mine, with which I heartily disagree. Perhaps if I refute his analogy, I will have dealt with his complaint. First, the analogy: ‘Imagine a psychologist in Hitler’s Germany who thought he could show that Jews had a genetically determined tendency toward usury (like squirrels bred to collect too many nuts) or, a drive toward anti-social conspiracy and domination, and so on. If he were criticized for even undertaking these studies, could he merely respond that [Professor Chomsky is quoting me here] “a neutral commentator. . , would have to say that the case is simply not settled” and that the “fundamental issue” is “whether inquiry shall (again) be shut off because someone thinks society is best left in ignorance”? I think not. Rather, I think that such a response would have been met with justifiable contempt. At best, he could claim that he is faced with a conflict of values. On the one hand, there is the alleged scientific importance of determining whether in fact Jews have a genetically determined tendency toward usury and domination (an empirical question, no doubt). On the other, there is the likelihood that even opening this question and regarding it as a subject for scientific inquiry would provide ammunition for Goebbels and Rosenberg and their henchman.’ (p. 42) Presumably, then, because I did not deny the possibility of a racial difference in I.Q., I am like the scientist in the analogy, studying innate Jewish usury in Hitler’s Germany. One must make allowances for Professor Chomsky’s tendency towards hyperbole. America is not Hitler’s Germany, and I was not proposing to study, nor was I asserting, a genetic flaw in any race. Let us, nevertheless, consider the analogy on its own merits. To begin with, I agree that in Hitler’s Germany, I might not study innate hoarding in Jews. But then, in Hitler’s Germany, would I do any science at all (disregarding for argument’s sake that Professor Chomsky and I would both be in concentration camps)? I hope that I would have had the strength to cease being a scientist in such a society and the good sense to have been among those who fled Germany in the 1930’s. I therefore share Professor Chomsky’s contempt for his hypothetical scientist, but not for Professor Chomsky’s reason. The scientist’s specialty hardly matters, compared to his willingness to stay and work at all. Wolfgang Kiihler, who voluntarily vacated the prime academic chair for a psychologist in Germany - the professorship at Berlin - worked on the physiological basis of perception. Was his gesture any less admirable because his research had no clear relevance to Nazi
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ideology? I think it was more admirable, for he could easily have used his irrelevance as an excuse for remaining indifferent to his country’s troubles and continuing to enjoy his eminent circumstances. Goebbels and Rosenberg did not need Kiihler’s data; they needed Kijhler’s acquiesence in German society, which he courageously and unstintingly withheld. And so it would be with Professor Chomsky’s hypothetical scientist. As a matter of fact, if Professor Chomsky’s scientist is honest, Goebbels and Rosenberg would probably stop him from carrying out his research anyway. Professor Chomsky forgets that in honest research, one does not always know the an.swer beforehand. Goebbels and Rosenberg would worry that Jews might not have an innate tendency towards usury, which would be quite embarrassing for the Party, if it got around. Instead, they would simply find some pseudo-scientist who would invent more convenient findings. Professor Chomsky, who wants me to subject scientific findings to the test of political suitability (see his pp. 41-44), should expect no less from Goebbels. Professor Chomsky’s analogy proves to be quite revealing, although it has little bearing on my article and hardly proves that my argument will be ‘exploited by racists.’ Contrary, I am sure, to his intention, I draw the lesson that we should encourage more research on people, not less. And all of it of passable quality should be published, not picked over for symptoms of apostasy. I trust that, as always before, the truth will turn out to be more complex and subtle than called for in anyone’s orthodoxy. Since society must cope with what people are really like, rather than with the fictions embodied in one political philosophy or the other, we would do well to learn as much as we can at every opportunity, limited, of course, by the rights of individuals to their privacy.
REFERENCES Chomsky, N. (1972) Psychology and ideology. Cognition, 1, 1 l-46; also in Chomsky, N. (1972) I.Q. tests: Building blocks for the new class system. Ramparts, 11
(l), 24-30. Herrnstein, R. J. (1971) I.Q. The Atlantic, Monthly, September.
Whatever
happened
to vaudeville? A reply to Professor Chomsky
R. J. HERRNSTEIN Harvard University
Professor Chomsky winds up a discussion (1972)’ of some of my views on social stratification (1971) by listing what he calls my assumptions: ‘that people labor only for material gain, for wealth and power, and that they do not seek interesting work suited to their abilities - that they would vegetate rather than do such work (p. 40). Quite sensibly in the face of such strange assumptions, he rejects any conclusions that follow, especially since I offer ‘no reason why we should believe any of this (and there is certainly some reason why we should not)’ (p. 40). I agree completely, except that I made no such assumptions, nor are they required by any of my conclusions. Nevertheless, to be misread by a person of Professor Chomsky’s quickness of wit impels me to try to restate, perhaps to clarify, the part of my discussion that has eluded him. I believe that he was led astray because my conclusions run contrary to his political suppositions rather than by my prose style. In particular, my argument wrecks the egalitarianism to which Professor Chomsky, like many other American intellectuals, pays homage. First, what is my argument? Concisely stated, it is that, (1) since people inherit their mental capacities (as indexed, for example, in intelligence tests) to some extent, and (2) since success in our society calls for those mental capacities, therefore, (3), it follows that success in our society reflects inherited differences between people. To readers who have not worked their way through the 15,000 or so words leading up to that conclusion, my syllogism may seem rash and unsubstantiated. To those readers, I can only commend my original article. Since Professor Chomsky did not question the facts behind the two premises, I will not bother reviewing them here. Nor did Professor Chomsky object to the logical form of my argument, to the inevitability of (3), given (1) and (2). He did not even object to my use of such hazard1. Professor Chomsky’s discussion of my views appears, essentially word for word, in both Cognition (as part of a longer article)
and Ramparts (by itself). Page references here refer to the Cognition article.
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ous expressions as ‘mental capacities’ or ‘success.’ Some readers may wonder, at this point, what other objection there can be to a syllogism, besides to the factual truth of its premises, the logical soundness of its steps, or its definition of terms. That, I will come to in a moment. But first, I note that the second premise - that success in our society depends in some significant way on mental capacities - means specifically that mental competence is necessary, but not sufficient, for getting ahead. To put it yet another way, each level of success in our society, as defined by the members of society themselves, permits a range of intelligence, but the higher the level, the narrower the range. At the top of the scale of occupations, the intellectual requirement is set relatively high, but high intelligence does not guarantee success. This, too, is a factual assertion, which I therefore offer here without further substantiation. I focus on premise 2 because Professor Chomsky’s main argument centers thereon As he puts it: ‘This step in the argument embodies two assumptions: first, it is so in fact; and second, it must be so, for society to function effectively’ (p. 34). Professor Chomsky disputes only the inevitability of premise 2, not its current accuracy. But do I really assume that the second premise ‘must be so’? In fact, I find no such assumption in my article, nor can I see that I need it. For me, it is no disgrace if my argument holds merely for existing societies, not necessarily all possible ones. As regards societies about which we have some data, such as the American or the Japanese or the Western European or the Russian, Professor Chomsky apparently accepts premise 2, and so is inexorably carried on to my conclusion - that society will stratify itself increasingly by genetic factors as it divests itself of the barriers commonly held to be unfair - those of race, religion, family connections, inherited wealth, and so on. Or, at least, he has not at this time chosen to dispute my actual conclusion. Instead, his dispute is with a possibility I offer for scrutiny, which is that hereditary social classes may stratify not only existing societies but also any conceivable society in which merit is a factor in social status. Professor Chomsky challenges, then, not my conclusmn but my extrapolation, which is a distinction that I would like to register even as he overlooks it. Now, having made the distinction, I contend that his criticism of my extrapolation has barely a shred of merit, which, it seems to me, strengthens my case, for it would be a subtle flaw indeed that would elude Professor Chomsky’s sharp eye. Professor Chomsky notes that my argument ‘would not apply in a society in which “income (economic, social, and political) is unaffected by success”.’ (p. 34) That is correct, for in such a society, should it come to pass, the second premise may no longer hold. If people’s accomplishments did not gain the rewards society has to dispense, then, indeed, success (as measured by social rewards) might not depend in any significant way on mental capacities, thereby violating premise 2. But now, Professor Chomsky does something odd. Instead of depicting a hypothetical society without
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differential rewards, he instead postulates a society in which people are rewarded for their accomplishments ‘only by prestige.’ If they are differentially rewarded for their accomplishments, even if only by prestige, my syllogism applies, as Professor Chomsky admits. The second premise is back, albeit only for success defined by prestige - not by money or dachas or limousines or winter vacations in the Caribbean or on the Black Sea. In his idea of the ‘decent society,’ says Professor Chomsky, ‘It will only follow (granting his other assumptions [with which, I note, he registers no dispute at any point]) that children of people who are respected for their achievements will be more likely to be respected for their own achievements, an innocuous result even if true.’ (p. 35) Why does Professor Chomsky find it ‘innocuous’ for prestige to run in families? He does not say, but I believe it is because he thinks that if the sole status distinction between people is based on the prestige or respect they earn from their fellows, they will not suffer for their failures as much as they do in our society, in which the penalty for failure is poverty, or at least, relative poverty as compared to our society’s successful people. Let us, for argument’s sake, suppose that Professor Chomsky’s decent society could get its work done. It is, after all, possible (although rather unlikely, I wager) that a society using prestige as its only differential social reward could render prestige potent enough to sustain work no less well than do the rewards in our society, including money and power. But if prestige were that potent, then surely the lack of it would cause sadness and regret, just as the lack of money and power causes sadness and regret now. Perhaps it would be a kinder world than ours, if, in eliminating the suffering caused by relative poverty, it did not substitute equally, or more, painful psychic deprivations. But ‘innocuous’ hardly seems like the right word for a society stratified by a mortal competition for prestige. Professor Chomsky did not postulate any such competition, but that’s what he would find nevertheless, if prestige could be made potent enough to replace the material rewards of existing societies. Yet, if prestige were not that potent, could Professor Chomsky’s utopia get its work done? Does anyone doubt that the differential rewards granted in society function like the potential difference in an electrical circuit - as a kind of labor pump? By attaching different outcomes for different jobs, or for jobs done well or poorly, society directs the flow of labor one way or the other - as for example, out of vaudeville and into radio and motion pictures, which had captured its audience and the attendant multiple rewards. As a more timely example, consider the diminishing numbers of applicants for graduate schools and the lengthening queues for law and medical schools, precisely in tune with the shifting demands, and values, in society at large. Or remember that when the rewards for manufacturing spats disappeared, so did spats manufacturers. The inherent rewards of making spats, such as they were, could
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not have changed, but the extrinsic ones evaporated and so did the industry. Now, this is not to suggest that society always distributes its rewards sensibly, humanely, or even attractively, merely that the distribution expresses something like a social consensus, which then gets converted into human effort. Sometimes, because of extraneous perturbations, or short term influences, or structural inadequacies, the consensus may be faulty, as Professor Chomsky notes. Thus, our society may be harming itself in the long run by paying public relations experts such high salaries (to the irritation of both Professor Chomsky and me), thereby attracting into the business the bright people who then sell us a bill of goods. No doubt, Professor Chomsky rightly notes that such high salaries often come from the wealthy few who have a stake in keeping the rest of us fooled. But all is not lost, for there is glory (if not also money) waiting for the fellow who sets the public straight, like Ralph Nader perhaps, showing that the system may have more resiliency than Professor Chomsky supposes. In any case, the merits of a given social consensus as compared to another is immaterial to the issue, except insofar as Professor Chomsky thinks I approve of the American consensus on the values of various occupations and therefore holds me accountable for what he considers its flaws. Whether I approve or not, whether the consensus is wise or not, the point is simply that labor flows towards the rewards, and that if a given reward successfully guides the flow of labor, then it is valuable enough to cause psychological pain by its absence. The relevant principle is one that Professor Chomsky, in his distaste for Professor Skinner’s psychology, has apparently never grasped. If a reward can sustain effort by its acquisition then it will punish by its deprivation. Or, to be concrete about it -if, in Professor Chomsky’s hypothetical world, prestige and respect are strong enough to direct labor in accordance with the social consensus, then they are strong enough to bring unhappiness to those who fail to get it. It does not matter a bit whether the consensus comes from a free market, monopoly capitalists, or the central government, In all likelihood, however, Professor Chomsky did not mean to allow prestige to be all that important in his decent society. Although a bit vague on this point, I believe that he intended the differential reward of prestige to be ineffective, which is to say, he intended that it have little or no effect on the distribution of labor. For the moment, let us grant that work would go on anyway, a supposition I firmly disbelieve and will later reconsider. With prestige unimportant, Professor Chomsky correctly infers that the lack of prestige would cause no pain, and that distinctions would be ‘innocuous.’ But, if SO, he erred in concluding that prestige would then run in families. If prestige was an impotent reward (hence causing no suffering by its lack), then the better endowed people would not end up in the prestigious occupations. They would instead be randomly dispersed among the various occupational levels (except for another of Professor Chomsky’s implausible postulations, to which I also return
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later), and their children would be randomly dispersed too. Premise 2 is either right or wrong as a factual matter. If it is right (assuming premise 1 is right, too), then there will be a hereditary meritocracy and some people will suffer the pain of having lost out in the competition for society’s rewards. If it is wrong, then we have no grounds for inferring a hereditary meritocracy and no reason to suppose anyone is hurting for the lack of society’s impotent rewards. Perhaps Professor Chomsky erred because he forgot that one reason we now find the highly rewarded occupations usually filled by the better endowed people surely is that they enjoy a competitive advantage in the contest to fill the slots. The correlation between occupational level and intellect has something to do with the greater desirability of the better jobs, on the one hand, and the greater competence (on the average) of the intelligent, on the other. Professor Chomsky accepts the fact of a correlation now 2, predicts that there would be a correlation in his hypothetical world, but disbelieves that the extrinsic social rewards, which he would ban, have anything to do with it. But why, if society did not create a gradient of potent lures towards the various occupations - by money, power, prestige, or whatever - would there be any sort of correlation between intellect and occupational level (defined by some secret consensus of social utility that was not being translated into differential rewards)? Professor Chomsky apparently believes that the inherent pleasures of labor would yield a good, strong correlation anyway. ‘In a decent society everyone would have the opportunity to find interesting work, and each person would be permitted the fullest possible scope for his talents. Would more be required, in particular, extrinsic reward in the form of wealth and power? Only if we assume that applying one’s talents in interesting and socially useful work is not rewarding in itself, that there is no intrinsic satisfaction in creative and productive work, suited to one’s abilities, or in helping others (say, one’s family, friends, associates, or simply fellow members of society).’ (p. 35f) In short, his hypothetical society would sort people roughly the way a beehive sorts bees, by a differentiation in the individuals rather than in their 2. Here and there, Professor Chomsky muses about the importance of ruthlessnessand the like, as opposed to intellect, in the struggle for achievementin our society. He apparently does not know that the data on the matter show intellect, as indexed in I.Q. tests or just by schooling, to be a far better predictor than any measure of personality that might identify those who are ‘ruthless, cunning, avaricious, selfseeking, lacking in sympathy and compassion, subservient to authority and
willing to abandon principle for material gain,’ (p. 38) to quote Professor Chomsky’s formula for success in America. No doubt, given two people of equal intellect, personality and character may spell the difference, but even here, the data do not bear out Professor Chomsky’s gloomy vision. Instead, the ones who succeed tend, on the average, to be the buoyant, energetic, independent, healthy ones, although there are many interesting exceptions.
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extrinsic rewards. Only steady-handed, nerveless intellectuals would yearn to be surgeons; only true-earred, sensitive artists would crave to sing in public; only masters of logical complexity would declare themselves chessplayers (and no one must keep score at matches, for the pleasures of victory are paid for by the pain of defeat). And, at the other end of the range, the under-endowed would cheerily and spontaneously designate themselves assistant clerks or plumber’s helpers. That is how Professor Chomsky must get his correlation, for there would be no differences in pay, no differences in power, and such differences in respect as he grants would be ‘innocuous,’ which is to say, that they would not much affect the competition for jobs. There would only be differences in ‘intrinsic satisfaction in creative and productive work.’ Clearly, Professor Chomsky feels I have seriously underrated the power of that intrinsic satisfaction. And I grant that I hold it to be less important than he does, for, while he wants the world to run on it, I believe that human society can no more transform itself into a beehive than vice versa. I would say that the burden falls squarely on him to prove otherwise. It is not necesary to prove that work is sustained by a mixture of intrinsic and extrinsic rewards, and that both contribute to its attractiveness. To that extent I agree with Professor Chomsky when he says that the extrinsic rewards do not solely determine the distribution of labor. However, I know of no one who would disagree with him, not even Professor Skinner. Neither Professor Skinner nor I have any trouble understanding why house painters get more money for painting the outsides of houses than for painting the insides. They require extra extrinsic rewards to offset the intrinsic disadvantages of clinging to the 20th or 30th story on windy days, as compared to the safety indoors. Throughout the scale of occupations something similar operates. For a given level of social utility (not in any philosophical sense, but as measured by the prevailing consensus) the intrinsic and extrinsic benefits add up to something like a constant. Thus, Albert Schweitzer did not have to get paid a lot of money for his work in order to keep him going into old age, for the respect and the eternal reward he envisioned were apparently recompense enough. A society wisely praises such men ‘richly,’ if it is to have the fruits of great talent unstintingly dedicated. But such rich praise, as well as other sorts of riches, would have to be prohibited to inactivate my syllogism. The main issue between Professor Chomsky and me finally boils down to this. Suppose all extrinsic rewards for labor, from gratitude to cash, were somehow held constant over all occupations. Now, let only the intrinsic satisfactions vary as they will. Professor Chomsky supposes that in such a world, in which my syllogism would truly be innocuous, everything would go just fine. There would, he assumes, be no more clumsy surgeons, suicidal airplane pilots, inarticulate teachers, rude salesmen, out-of-tune singers in his ideal world than there are in the one we are living in.
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need owe nothing to society’s system of differential rewards. A remarkable supposition; to me utterly unbelievable. Moreover, Professor Chomsky supposes that in his world there would be no shortage of labor either, that somehow the intrinsic rewards of coal mining, ditch digging, schooling, garbage collecting, poodle clipping, even house painting, would keep the work at just the level society needs, neither too much nor too little. For he supposes that the extrinsic rewards contribute nothing essential to the monitoring of labor. The reason Professor Chomsky must be supposing these outlandish things is that, as he well knows, as soon as he grants a role to the extrinsic rewards, my syllogism starts cranking away. It changes my argument not at all if intrinsic satisfaction could account for some of the distribution of labor, for the distribution of external rewards will compensate for such complications as the social consensus dictates. An onerous but important job will draw rich rewards; a pleasurable, insignificant one will draw little if any. As long as some of the distribution of labor depends at all significantly upon differential extrinsic rewards, and as long as the likelihood of success depends upon inherited mental differences (which, please recall, Professor Chomsky grants, or at least does not challenge), then social standing will depend upon inherited differences to some degree. Professor Chomsky may find me lacking in imagination. Why, he may ask, can I not picture his revolutionary new man or woman, eager to serve the decent society for no differential rewards except the sense of a useful job well done. The answer is that I know what has happened before when the state has told its citizens henceforth to be good and productive for the sake of the state (usually in the name of the ‘people’), instead of for their own sakes, and then enforces its vision of ‘classlessness.’ History does not encourage further ventures of that sort, at least, it does not encourage me. Soon after the leaders discover that selflessness cannot be counted upon, they are most likely to impose a gradient of punishment, which may have about the same potential for producing labor as our society’s gradient of’ reward, except that it is bound to be more, rather than less, cruel. It hardly looks like an improvement to substitute imprisonment or forced labor camps for poverty (especially when the poverty persists). Not that I think Professor Chomsky favors any such reign of terror, but he might have little to say at that point, for the revolution’s visionaries are often among its first victims. Professor Chomsky surely knows that the persistent status differentials in all socialist states follow directly from individual differences in ability and the Skinnerian principles of reward and punishment that he so contemptuously, and repeatedly, keeps dismissing. He must therefore tell us how his decent society will steer its way between those venerable human limitations. SO much for the main issue between Professor Chomsky and me. Unlike some of my more vehement critics, Professor Chomsky does not accuse me of racism, for
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which I am grateful. However, he does hold me accountable for making an argument that ‘will surely be exploited by racists to justify discrimination.’ (p. 41) Unfortunately for the sake of further discussion, Professor Chomsky fails to say which of my arguments will have that unwholesome consequence, which makes his assertion difficult either to evaluate or refute. Professor Chomsky does, however, provide what he considers an analogous case to mine, with which I heartily disagree. Perhaps if I refute his analogy, I will have dealt with his complaint. First, the analogy: ‘Imagine a psychologist in Hitler’s Germany who thought he could show that Jews had a genetically determined tendency toward usury (like squirrels bred to collect too many nuts) or, a drive toward anti-social conspiracy and domination, and so on. If he were criticized for even undertaking these studies, could he merely respond that [Professor Chomsky is quoting me here] “a neutral commentator. . , would have to say that the case is simply not settled” and that the “fundamental issue” is “whether inquiry shall (again) be shut off because someone thinks society is best left in ignorance”? I think not. Rather, I think that such a response would have been met with justifiable contempt. At best, he could claim that he is faced with a conflict of values. On the one hand, there is the alleged scientific importance of determining whether in fact Jews have a genetically determined tendency toward usury and domination (an empirical question, no doubt). On the other, there is the likelihood that even opening this question and regarding it as a subject for scientific inquiry would provide ammunition for Goebbels and Rosenberg and their henchman.’ (p. 42) Presumably, then, because I did not deny the possibility of a racial difference in I.Q., I am like the scientist in the analogy, studying innate Jewish usury in Hitler’s Germany. One must make allowances for Professor Chomsky’s tendency towards hyperbole. America is not Hitler’s Germany, and I was not proposing to study, nor was I asserting, a genetic flaw in any race. Let us, nevertheless, consider the analogy on its own merits. To begin with, I agree that in Hitler’s Germany, I might not study innate hoarding in Jews. But then, in Hitler’s Germany, would I do any science at all (disregarding for argument’s sake that Professor Chomsky and I would both be in concentration camps)? I hope that I would have had the strength to cease being a scientist in such a society and the good sense to have been among those who fled Germany in the 1930’s. I therefore share Professor Chomsky’s contempt for his hypothetical scientist, but not for Professor Chomsky’s reason. The scientist’s specialty hardly matters, compared to his willingness to stay and work at all. Wolfgang Kiihler, who voluntarily vacated the prime academic chair for a psychologist in Germany - the professorship at Berlin - worked on the physiological basis of perception. Was his gesture any less admirable because his research had no clear relevance to Nazi
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ideology? I think it was more admirable, for he could easily have used his irrelevance as an excuse for remaining indifferent to his country’s troubles and continuing to enjoy his eminent circumstances. Goebbels and Rosenberg did not need Kiihler’s data; they needed Kijhler’s acquiesence in German society, which he courageously and unstintingly withheld. And so it would be with Professor Chomsky’s hypothetical scientist. As a matter of fact, if Professor Chomsky’s scientist is honest, Goebbels and Rosenberg would probably stop him from carrying out his research anyway. Professor Chomsky forgets that in honest research, one does not always know the an.swer beforehand. Goebbels and Rosenberg would worry that Jews might not have an innate tendency towards usury, which would be quite embarrassing for the Party, if it got around. Instead, they would simply find some pseudo-scientist who would invent more convenient findings. Professor Chomsky, who wants me to subject scientific findings to the test of political suitability (see his pp. 41-44), should expect no less from Goebbels. Professor Chomsky’s analogy proves to be quite revealing, although it has little bearing on my article and hardly proves that my argument will be ‘exploited by racists.’ Contrary, I am sure, to his intention, I draw the lesson that we should encourage more research on people, not less. And all of it of passable quality should be published, not picked over for symptoms of apostasy. I trust that, as always before, the truth will turn out to be more complex and subtle than called for in anyone’s orthodoxy. Since society must cope with what people are really like, rather than with the fictions embodied in one political philosophy or the other, we would do well to learn as much as we can at every opportunity, limited, of course, by the rights of individuals to their privacy.
REFERENCES Chomsky, N. (1972) Psychology and ideology. Cognition, 1, 1 l-46; also in Chomsky, N. (1972) I.Q. tests: Building blocks for the new class system. Ramparts, 11
(l), 24-30. Herrnstein, R. J. (1971) I.Q. The Atlantic, Monthly, September.