Earlier this year, Democratic operatives looking for the best way to define Mitt Romney discovered something interesting about Paul Ryan's budget. The New York Times reported that when the details of his proposals were run past focus groups, they found that the plan is so cruel that voters "simply refused to believe any politician would do such a thing."
In addition to phasing out the Earned Income Tax Credit that keeps millions of American families above the poverty line and cutting funding for children's healthcare in half, Jonathan Cohn described the "America that Paul Ryan envisions" like this:
Many millions of working-age Americans would lose health insurance. Senior citizens would anguish over whether to pay their rent or their medical bills, in a way they haven't since the 1960s. Government would be so starved of resources that, by 2050, it wouldn't have enough money for core functions like food inspections and highway maintenance.
Ryan's "roadmap" may be the least serious budget plan ever to emerge in Washington, but it is reflective of how far to the right the GOP has moved in recent years. According to a recent study of public attitudes conducted by the Pew Research Center, in 1987, 62 percent of Republicans said "the government should take care of people who cannot take care of themselves," but that number has now dropped to just 40 percent (PDF). That attitude was on display during a GOP primary debate last fall when moderator Wolf Blitzer asked Ron Paul what fate should befall a healthy person without health insurance who finds himself suddenly facing a catastrophic illness. "Congressman," Blitzer pressed after Paul sidestepped the question, "are you saying that society should just let him die?" Before Paul had a chance to respond, the audience erupted in cheers, with some shouting, "yeah!"
Ryan's motives aren't purely ideological; he's been a magnet for dollars from big GOP donors for years (the $5.4 million in his House campaign account is among the largest war-chests for any representative this cycle). But what about the ordinary people who embrace this kind of 'screw 'em, I got mine' ideology? How can presumably decent people on the Right - people who care about their families and their communities - appear to be so cruel? Don't they grasp the devastating real-world consequences of what it means for a society to just "let him die"?
While some answers to that question are relatively straightforward, even intuitive, research into the interplay between cognition and ideology offers a deeper understanding of what appears on its face to be an extraordinary deficit of basic human empathy.
The simplest explanation for this apparent disconnect is the increasing polarization of our media consumption. People on the right tend to consume conservative media, and if you get your news from Fox and listen to Limbaugh, you too would think that Ryan's roadmap is simply a "serious" proposal to cut the deficit (never mind that it would cut taxes at the top by so much that the budget wouldn't be balanced for decades to come).
But it goes a bit deeper than that. The contempt a good number of Americans hold for the social welfare state has long been understood through the prism of race. In his classic book, Why Americans Hate Welfare, Martin Gilens found that while significant majorities of Americans told pollsters that they wanted more public spending to fight poverty, many were opposed to welfare programs because of widespread "perceptions that welfare recipients are undeserving and blacks are lazy."
That finding has been confirmed in a number of studies since then. But more recently, psychological research - and some neurobiological studies - have found something else: Liberals and conservatives don't just differ in their opinions, they have fundamentally different ways of processing information, which in turn leads them to hold markedly divergent sets of facts.
Even more frustrating for those who view politics as a rational pursuit of one's self-interest, facts don't actually matter that much. We begin evaluating policies emotionally, according to a deeply ingrained moral framework, and then our brains often work backward, filling in - or inventing -- "facts" that conform to that framework.
Dueling Morality Tales
It's long been understood that people evaluate policy ideas through partisan and ideological lenses. That's how, for example, a set of conservative, market-oriented healthcare reforms cooked up at the Heritage Foundation and pushed by Republicans for years can suddenly become a Maoist plot when embraced by a Democratic administration.
But according to George Lakoff, a cognitive linguist at UC Berkeley, one has to look beyond mere partisanship to really get the differences in how we process information. Lakoff describes what might be called a hierarchy of understanding, beginning with our conceptions of morality and then evaluating the details through that lens.
In The Little Blue Book: The Essential Guide to Thinking and Talking Democratic, Lakoff and co-author Elisabeth Wehling explain that the human "brain is structured in terms of what are called 'cascades.'"
A cascade is a network of neurons that links many brain circuits. All of the linked circuits must be active at once to produce a given understanding.While liberals and conservatives often see their counterparts as horrible people these days, the reality, according to Lakoff, is that they're processing information through very different, and often diametrically opposed moral frameworks.
Simply put, the brain does not handle single ideas as separate entities: bigger context, a logical construct within which the idea is defined, is evoked in order to grasp its meaning.
Cascades are central to political understanding, because they characterize the logic that structures that understanding.
In a recent interview with AlterNet, Lakoff said, "Conservatives have a very different view of democracy, which follows their moral system."
The basic idea in terms of economics is that democracy gives people the liberty to seek their self interest and their own well-being without worrying or being responsible for the well-being or interest of anybody else. Therefore they say everybody has individual responsibility, not social responsibility, therefore you're on your own. If you make it that's wonderful. That's what the market is about. If you don't make it, that's your problem.But it's not just about the moral imperative to be self-sufficient - that's always been central to the right's moral worldview. But beginning in the early 1960s, with the advent of the Right's deeply flawed "culture of poverty" narrative*, a defining morality tale about the public sector has been about how it does nothing but foster "dependency." This, according to today's conservatives, makes virtually every form of government intervention in the economy profoundly immoral, as it keeps a segment of the population mired in poverty for generations.
This powerful story has only become more deeply entrenched in the conservative worldview with the growing influence of Ayn Rand. Rand wasn't only a schlock novelist, she was also the progenitor of a sweeping "moral philosophy" that justifies the privilege of the wealthy and demonizes not only the slothful, undeserving poor but the lackluster middle-classes as well. Her books provided wide-ranging parables of a world made up of "parasites," "looters" and "moochers" using the levers of government to steal the fruits of her heroes' labor.
While Ryan recently disavowed Rand's philosophy, he's on the record saying that Rand "makes the best case for the morality of democratic capitalism." On another occasion, he said, "The reason I got involved in public service, by and large, if I had to credit one thinker, one person, it would be Ayn Rand."
This philosophy is constantly reinforced. According to Lakoff, most people have both liberal and conservative moralities that vie for prominence as our brains process information. One "neural circuit is in mutual opposition to another neural circuit" he told AlterNet, and "each of those two inhibit each other."
For the Fox News crowd, the circuitry of conservative moralism is charged again and again every day. "When one of those circuits is activated over and over, more than the other, the stronger it gets and the weaker the inactive one gets," said Lakoff. "The stronger one of these circuits gets, the more influence it's going to have over various issues."
Shutting Down the Thinking Brain
Princeton psychologist Daniel Kahneman refined earlier theories about how the brain functions on two levels - one instinctive and very quick, the other slower and more deliberate. He described the first as intuitive processing, or "system one cognition," and the other as a process of reasoning, or "system two cognition."
And the key point here is it appears that when system one is active, system two shuts down. Or, to put it another way, when we perceive an issue in emotional terms (system one), we make a quick judgment in which we don't think much about the details. This is common in our daily lives, but takes on real signifigance in our political culture, and while this tendency isn't limited to a particular ideology, some research suggests that political conservatives are more likely to rely on the kind of snap judgments associated with system one cognition than liberals.
(In his book, The Republican Brain, Chris Mooney suggests that there may be powerful evolutionary benefits for having an instinctive, knee-jerk process take over at times. If you were an early human wandering on the savanna and heard a rustling noise in the brush, it was to your advantage to instantly assume there's a lion coming and have your fight-or-flight instinct kick in. If you paused to weigh the evidence of whether or not it might be a lion, there would be a good chance that you wouldn't pass your genes onto future generations.)
Given the cascade of cognition - from a broad moral frame, to the way a specific issue is framed in our discourse and finally to the nitty-gritty details that most people ignore - and given how the fast, instinctive processing can overwhelm our more deliberative, reasoned cognitive process, it's easy to understand how so many people on the right could be immune to the real-world consequences of doing things like cutting healthcare for poor children. It simply follows - from the overarching moral frame of dependency -- that this kind of "tough love," while perhaps painful in the near term, is ultimately beneficial for those feeling that pain.
Isn't That a Contradiction?
It is a contradiction in one sense. But researchers have long observed that humans have an excellent capacity to hold contradictory beliefs. A recent study at the University of Kent, for example, found that those who believe Princess Diana was murdered are also more likely than most to think her death was faked.
A number of researchers have posited that we stave off painful cognitive dissonance by a process called "motivated reasoning," whereby we seek out plausible explanations for complex phenomena in order to make things fit into our previously held belief systems.
Drew Westen, Pavel S. Blagov, Keith Harenski, Clint Kilts, and Stephan Hamann at Emory University describe ($$) motivated reasoning as a process by which, "people actually seek out information that confirms what they already believe." This, say the researchers, results in "a form of implicit emotion regulation."
Writing in the New York Times, David Redlawsk, a political scientist at Rutgers, explains that "we are all somewhat impervious to new information, preferring the beliefs in which we are already invested.
We often ignore new contradictory information, actively argue against it or discount its source, all in an effort to maintain existing evaluations. Reasoning away contradictions this way is psychologically easier than revising our feelings. In this sense, our emotions color how we perceive "facts."Everyone does this, but some research suggests that political conservatives, perhaps because they are more set in their views, and more averse to cognitive dissonance, tend to display more motivated reasoning than liberals.
When you hear someone like Paul Ryan proposing, for example, to shift $4,700 in health costs onto the backs of seniors living at the poverty level by 2022, it's important to understand that the consequences of those actions - the factual, real-world results of these policies - are often inconsequential to like-minded people on the Right not because they're (necessarily) bad people, but for the simple reason that the consequences don't register.
While a half-dozen analyses paint a sharp picture of the cruelty inherent in the Ryan plan, it is this process of motivated reasoning that allows conservatives to simply block out any details that contradict their ideas about the need to avoid fostering a "culture of dependency."
And here, one of the apparent differences between conservative and liberal cognitive styles comes into play: the "backfire effect." The term was coined by political scientists Brendan Nyhan and Jason Reifler, who found that when conservatives' erroneous beliefs were confronted by factual rebuttals, they tended to double-down on those beliefs. The same dynamic wasn't observed with liberals (they weren't entirely swayed by the facts, but didn't show the same tendency to believe false information more strongly after being presented with them).
This is not to suggest that Ryan's plan - now effectively Romney's as well, despite some efforts to distance himself from it -- won't prove toxic to most people when they get a sense of what it does. That's because, as Lakoff notes, there are very few people who hold a primarily conservative or liberal moral framework - most have a bit of both. But it does help explain why seemingly ordinary citizens can embrace such such cruel public policies. It also suggests that Ryan's vision can't be attacked with facts and figures alone; it has to be challenged with a progressive moral vision of a society that values fairness and understands that in a modern economy, the public sector serves and sustains the private.