Artificial Intelligence and the Professions

I recently came across a welcome bit of good news (which many of us crave these days!). Through a vehicle intriguingly titled the “Ethics and Governance of Artificial Intelligence Fund,” several philanthropies are providing generous support for an important and challenging undertaking: an investigation of the ethical and moral considerations of advances in AI. The beneficiaries are two highly appropriate and complementary university centers: the Media Lab at the Massachusetts of Institute of Technology and the Berkman Klein Center for Internet and Society at Harvard University.

This philanthropic support could not be more timely. After a number of false (or overly-hyped) starts in the last half-century, the field of artificial intelligence is coming of age. As the size of computational devices gets ever smaller, the question-answering and problem-solving capacities of our technologies increase steadily. We can still argue about whether “artificial intelligence” is truly intelligent—that is, intelligent in the way that we humans think we are intelligent; and it is clear that much of artificial intelligence still depends on “brute force” processing of tons of information rather than the kinds of elegant heuristics that we human beings allegedly employ.

Until recently, I had thought that one arena of human life was unlikely to be affected by artificial intelligence—the practice of the learned professions. Of course, I knew that almost all workers make use of technological aids, and, as a (self-proclaimed) professional, I have for decades used computer programs that help me to array and analyze data, write and edit easily, and—indeed (perhaps especially)—organize my life. But I thought of these as mere adjuncts to my “real” work of thinking, advising, planning, executing, and professing.

Thanks to recent attention in the press—and Richard and Daniel Susskind’s book of The Future of the Professions—I now realize that I was naïve. The subtitle of the Susskinds’ book is telling: How technology will transform the work of human experts. Large parts of professions are now carried out far more rapidly—and in many cases, more accurately—by AI programs and devices than by even the most skilled and speediest human beings. It’s become an open question whether, and to what extent, we will need flesh and blood accountants to handle and authenticate our books; live physicians to commission and interpret our MRIs; animated teachers who stand and deliver in front of us rather than well-designed lessons online.

But for the most part, discussions of these trends have ignored or minimized what is at the core, the proverbial “elephant in the room”: the responsibility of professionals to make complex judgments, and notably ethical ones, under conditions of uncertainty. The auditor has to decide which items to include or exclude, how to categorize them, what recommendations to give to the client, when to report questionable practices, to whom, and in what format. The medical practitioner has to decide which tests to commission, which findings to emphasize, and how to explain the possible courses of a disease process to patients and families who differ widely in background, knowledge, and curiosity. The teacher has to decide which topics are most important, what to emphasize (or minimize) in the current context (including time constraints, snow days, and epochal world events), which kinds of feedback are useful to specific students in specific contexts, and which kinds are better kept under wraps for now.

“To be sure,” you might respond. But these kinds of knowledge and “moves” can and are being built into AI. We can and should consider varying contexts; we can have different responses for different clients, even for the same clients on different days or under different circumstances; we can tweak programs based on successes and failures according to specified standards; and, anyway, we cannot be confident that human practitioners—even ones with the best of motives—necessarily handle such challenges very well.

Since I am (hopefully) less naïve than at earlier times, I won’t attempt to bat down or ignore these rejoinders. But I raise the following considerations:

1. Over the decades, professionals have developed understandings of what is proper professional behavior and what is not. To be sure, sometimes these consensus judgments are honored as much in the breach as in the observance; but at least they are standards, typically explicit ones. (One journalism ethical code—that of The New York Times—runs for over fifty pages.) Any artificial intelligence program that takes on professional (as opposed to purely technical) competence needs to be explicit about the ethical assumptions built into it. Such discussions have commenced—for example, with reference to the norms governing driverless automobiles that get into traffic jams or accidents.

2. It is illusory to think that there will be one best approach to any professional challenge—be it how to audit accounts, interpret radiological information, or fashion a lesson. Indeed, different approaches will have different ethical orientations—implicit or explicit. Far better that the assumptions be made explicit and that they have to contend with one another publicly on the ethical playing field… as happens now in discussions among philosophers, cognitive scientists, and neuroscientists.

3. Among competing artificial intelligence approaches to professional quandaries, how do we decide which to employ? We could create AI “meta-programs” that make these decisions—but for now, I’d rather let human professionals make these discernments. As the Romans famously queried “Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?” (“Who guards the guardians?”)

4. What happens if, for some reason, AI breaks down (for example, if the “hackers of ethics” have their day)? (More than a few gifted hackers pass through the portals of the two Cambridge institutions that have been generously funded.) In such post-diluvium “after the flood” cases, we will desperately need well-educated human beings who themselves have come to embody professional expertise and judgment.

5. A personal point: As I write these lines, I am dealing with a medical situation that will take months to resolve. I am fortunate—indeed, more than fortunate—to have a skilled medical team that is helping me to deal with these challenges. No doubt each member makes use of all of the “computational intelligence” at his or her disposal. But I also have conversations—in person, on the telephone, or on line—with these physicians frequently (in one case, on a daily basis). These personal interactions with live, empathic human beings have enormous positive impact on my well-being. When I have recovered, I expect to write about the sense of professional calling which still exists, at least in the prototypical profession of medicine.

6. Maybe my grandchildren or great-grandchildren will be equally satisfied having “conversations” with AI programs, although I can’t conceive of a situation where I would be. And this is in large part because my physicians are human beings. In some ways, as a fellow human being, I know where they are “coming from”—and in some ways, they also know where I am “coming from”; where I am going; and how the many pieces fit (or don’t) fit together. As fellow human beings, we share both an evolutionary background and a common fate.

And so, as the researchers and practitioners commence their important work on the ethics of AI, I hope that they will keep in mind those capacities and potentials that represent the “better angels” of human nature—those civilized and professional virtues and values that took centuries to develop but can so easily be scuttled and forgotten.

An Action Call: “I Am A Citizen” Project

By Arina Bokas

Arina Bokas is an author, independent educational consultant, and faculty member in the department of English at Mott Community College, Michigan. She is also the editor of Kids’ Standard Magazine.

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Is civic education on the decline in America? Like many educators, the most recent presidential election made me rethink my own role in preparing students to become engaged citizens and informed participants in the American political process. In response to recent events, I developed a research project for my college students called “I Am A Citizen,” first completed by my freshmen composition class last semester.

Located in Flint, Michigan, Mott Community College, where I teach, has a diverse student body. Many inner city students, predominantly African-American, receive financial aid that allows them to attend. The college also draws many students from Flint’s suburbs that, up until a few decades ago, were home to many skilled, well-paid automotive workers. These predominantly white students come from working class families, often making just above the income line that would qualify them for financial assistance. Many students from both groups work in order to afford college. I could safely say that my composition class was evenly divided in their political preferences, with about a quarter of students being removed from politics altogether.

The Ground Rule: Ideas, Not People

From the very start, I made it clear that regardless of their political considerations, students were to treat each other with respect. Most importantly, we were to discuss ideas, and never individuals. This rule applied to the presidential candidates, their supporters, and students themselves. This was one important shift in thought that students had to embrace.

Set-Up and Expectations

Students were split in groups of five, each group working within one theme or general area of interest. When creating groups, I purposefully combined students from various social-economic and racial backgrounds to ensure a diversity of views. Individually, each student was to select a specific question that he or she would investigate within the chosen area.

To make sure that students were well positioned to conduct a productive investigation, I asked them to submit a research proposal containing their question, criteria, and hypothesis prior to collecting any data.

Students worked within their groups to develop tools for gathering information, most often surveys, and were each responsible for collecting a specific demographic sample. After the results from all members were compiled, groups analyzed the data to see whether responses differed based on respondents’ age, gender, social-economic class, or political affiliation, information that was analyzed in individually written papers.

The final outcome of this project was a research portfolio that included a research proposal, individual survey results, bibliography, first draft with peer edits, final draft, and a reflection exercise.

The Project: Building Skills and Dispositions

As my students gathered early in the morning on November 9, 2016, our nation had just awakened the results of the election. Amidst the confusion, joy, fear, and anger sweeping our country, my 18-year-old first-time voters talked quietly and respectfully as they were discussing and selecting areas for their projects.

The image of the President of the United States, the system of the U.S. electoral process, and the particular election of 2016 were three dominant themes. To help students formulate individual questions, I led the class through a “Chalk Talk” thinking routine in which groups moved from one station to another to recording their thoughts about each group’s proposed topic and build on one another’s reflections. By the end of the class period, many students had a clear idea of what exactly they were eager to research.

Examples of research questions included:

• Are values of truth and ethics in the President of the United States important to our society

• Has our perception of personal values in the President of the United Stated changed over time?

• Does the electoral process currently in place in the United States allow the best candidates to advance?

• Does the two-party system serve America well?

The verbalization of questions and hypotheses prior to conducting research afforded students an opportunity to evaluate their own perspectives and the evolution of their views as their research progressed. Students considered throughout the project whether their research supported their preliminary view or made them reconsider it, learning to postpone judgment and objectively evaluate evidence.

Because the students were also required to examine original documents, rather than rely on the interpretation of others, and to develop their very own data collection tools, this project fostered student agency and perspective taking.

Outcomes and Observations

From the time I introduced the project to the students until the day they presented their results, we had six weeks of bi-weekly class meetings, a relatively short amount of time to tackle broad ideas. Through the presentations, project reflections, and more informal conversations, I was able to conclude that the value of this project was found in three areas vital to responsible citizenship.

1. Understanding of the political arena.

Before completing this project, many students believed that they had sufficient knowledge of political processes. Very soon, however, it became clear that there was a substantial deficit in their knowledge and comprehension. One student wrote in her reflection, “I learned that even with all of the technology we have, we don’t know much about the elections or the candidates. Maybe this is because of misinformation that comes with certain media outlets, or maybe this is because we sometimes just don’t care to take time to really understand something.“ (Jazmin H.)

For many students, the surveys and analyses of secondary sources led to unexpected conclusions. For example, most respondents over the age of 35 across various demographics didn’t consider truth and ethics to be important in the political arena. They based their trust in the President not on telling public truths but rather on their perception of whether or not the President was true to his/her word. On the other hand, public truth was an important factor for younger voters.

Students also concluded that the two-party system was limiting the presidential pool inside and outside the parties. Most respondents knew nearly nothing about third party candidates or even the third parties themselves.

2. Understanding of the role of a citizen.

One student noted the effect of this project on his sense of responsibility as a citizen: “This project gave me a new perspective on the U.S. government. Before this, I always brushed off our American politics as a sort of nuisance. Reading the Constitution and trying to understand it for the first time, learning about actions of the past Presidents and their effects on my life today, made me take a critical look at myself as a citizen.” (Patrick S.)

The surveys data demonstrated a substantial shift between generations in how people perceive their civic responsibility. Older voters had a higher percentage of civic participation and desire to stay informed than did their younger counterparts. Older people were also more likely to believe that their voices matter.

One student reflected, “I didn’t vote in this election or the last one, even though I was eligible. I honestly didn’t realize how much the presidential elections affect us, American citizens, and the rest of the world. This project has changed my perspective. I will be more involved in the future, following up on the issues and partaking in the voting process.” (Katherine H.)

3. Desire to question, seek various perspectives, verify, and postpone conclusions.

Compiling and interpreting data from various demographic samples and working in mixed groups allowed students to interact with perspectives of those with whom they disagreed. Throughout the process, students strove to remain objective as they read, edited, and listened to presentations of evidence and conclusions of others.

A number of students observed that since the founding of the country, ethical standards for the President had changed. Many of the founding fathers weren’t concerned about human rights issues as we understand them today, and different priorities were at the fore. Students commented that they realized that almost any issue involved a number of interrelated and complex factors. Differences of opinion were often a result of which factors individuals considered more relevant and important to their lives.

“I feel I am more open minded,” reported one student. “In the future, I would like to stay neutral until I fully understand and know both sides of the argument. Just because I know my life doesn’t mean I know the needs of my neighbor.” (April L.)

Concluding Thought

I believe that nearly every non-technical subject presents an opportunity for a project that enhances student civic knowledge or understanding of civic engagement. No matter how brief the exposure might be, it matters. Little by little, we all can make a change that will have a lasting effect on the future of our nation.

The Letter of Recommendation: Professional Judgment Under Siege

As a veteran professional, considered to have expertise in education and social science, I am often asked for advice. The requests run the gamut from where to study, to what to study, to how to succeed in one or another competitive arena. I do my best to be helpful—which often includes the admission that I don’t know enough to offer help.

Among the areas for which my professional judgment is most often sought is the letter of recommendation. I am asked to write a variety of letters. These range from recommending a young person for admission to a secondary school or college to recommending a senior colleague for a prize or a month long residency at a picturesque conference site. In the former case, I’m buoyed by the knowledge that there are many good places where the candidate can study. In the latter case, there is often already a lot of public knowledge about the candidate and so my support is probably symbolic rather than substantive.

The most challenging letters: those requested by young scholars who are applying for full-time tenure track teaching jobs. (Sometimes I have been the chief doctoral adviser for the scholar; at other times, I am one of her teachers or on her dissertation committee.) These jobs are highly competitive, with dozens or even hundreds of qualified candidates for each coveted position. Not infrequently, I (as well as other colleagues) will be asked to write letters for more than one candidate for the same job!

I am always suspicious of claims that “things used to be easier” or “more straightforward” in the past—and in reading C. P. Snow’s novels about academe in England, I learned that intrigue has always hovered over coveted appointments. But things certainly used to be different.

In the first half of the 20th century, nearly all appointments at selective institution (in the United States, United Kingdom, and other countries) came about through personal recommendations—in writing, in person, or by phone. The operating principle was the “old boys’ network”—and literally boys, since almost no “girls” were part of the network. When there was an opening at an institution, or when a senior scholar had a promising student, relevant “old boys” would get in touch with one another and have a presumably frank discussion of strengths and weaknesses. (Having read some correspondence from that era, I have been impressed by how candid the letters were—critiques were at least as prominent as raves.) In that sense, one can say that these recommendations were truthful.

But it’s equally important to point out that scholars had their favorites—and having a candidate who carried on your work or agreed with your view of the field or was personally helpful to you were undoubtedly fingers on the scale of a positive recommendation.

The “old boys’ network” needed to be exploded, and in the last several decades, it clearly has been. To begin with, while sexism has hardly disappeared, the range and variety of candidates is much greater, with women and minorities at least in the pool even when there has not been special encouragement for their candidacy. All jobs must be publicly advertised. Further, in many places there are “sunshine” rules, such that either letters are made public or—more typically—the letter writer is warned that confidentiality cannot be guaranteed.

Efforts have been undertaken to make such letters more objective. One ploy is to ask the letter writer to compare the candidate to other candidates in her cohort—either others who are explicitly named or ones whom the writer himself is asked to nominate. Another ploy, common for admission to a highly competitive program, is to ask the letter writer to rate the candidate in terms of her percentile rank with respect to properties like originality, expression in writing, oral expression, etc. An example: “In oral expression, as compared to other candidates, is this candidate in the upper 1%, the upper 5% the upper 10%, etc.?”

A complicating factor—especially salient in the United States—is what I’d term “letter inflation.” We are all familiar with grade inflation—the tendency over the decades to give students ever higher grades (in many institutions of higher learning, the Gentleman C has been promoted the Gentleman A minus). With respect to letters, I’ve observed the same trend in the United States—letters often compete with one another for superlatives. Indeed, of the many letter writers whom I know personally or “on paper,” only one of them is relatively candid about the flaws in a candidate.

So, in the light of all of these obstacles, what is left, if anything, of professional judgment? Faced with other letters that are likely to be laden with superlatives, as well as the prospect of public exposure of critical remarks (not to mention the possibility of a lawsuit filed by an unsuccessful job candidate!), are there any principles to which a letter writer should adhere in order to convey his or her professional judgment in a reliable way?

Here is what I would recommend:

1. When asked by a job candidate for a letter of recommendation, be prepared to say “no” and to give reasons that are candid, though not, of course, gratuitously nasty. I often explain that I don’t know the candidate well enough to be helpful or that I have already agreed to write for someone else or that I don’t think that the candidate is appropriate for the job. Better to be tough at the beginning than to find yourself in a quagmire.

2. Refuse to do rank orderings or checklists. Here’s the standard boilerplate that I use: “As a matter of personal policy, I do not complete ratings questionnaires as a portion of recommendations.” Why this refusal? One almost never sees checklists that are not completely skewed to the positive—so much so that checking off “Top 10%,” rather than “Top 1%,” can be the kiss of death.

3. Be purely descriptive whenever possible. For example, when it comes to a discussion of the candidate’s research, put it in your own words and be explicit about its contribution as well as its limitations.

4. State in a positive way the candidate’s strong features—letter readers will be interested in how you see her strengths.

5. If possible, touch on the candidate’s less strong features—or indicate areas where you don’t feel competent to comment (for example, if you know the candidate’s research but not her teaching, it is fine to state that).

If, for whatever reason, you cannot be explicit about a candidate’s weaknesses, be silent. Leave it to the readers of the letter to make inferences about what is not discussed. To avoid unintentionally harming the candidate, I always have a last line that reads, “Please let me know if I can provide any further information.” If there is indeed a follow-up, you are free to say, “I am not comfortable commenting on that issue.” Don’t lie!

As you can probably tell, this state of affairs does not please me. I’d much rather be completely candid and have others be equally candid with me. (In that sense, despite its obvious flaws, I have sympathy for the normative behavior in earlier times.) But that is not the world in which we live, and it is unfair to treat a job candidate in a way that unfairly jeopardizes her chance for a livelihood. But I come to the reluctant conclusion that, at least in the United States, letters of recommendation are not a site where one can expect candid professional judgment.

Since these issues will not go away, and they affect likely all who would read this piece, I’d be eager to hear others’ ideas about the professional judgment involved in letters of recommendation and how to exercise one’s professional judgment in a responsible way. Feel free to write your own recommendations below!

Colleagues from the Netherlands Visit The Good Project

By Daniel Mucinskas

In October 2016, The Good Project welcomed five colleagues from the Netherlands affiliated with The Professional Honor Foundation (PHF), a Dutch organization that explores professional identity and behavior across many sectors. PHF is currently celebrating its 10th anniversary. In honor of this milestone, members of The Good Project and PHF teams convened in Cambridge to share updates, connections, and reflections.

During the visit, The Good Project’s researchers had the opportunity to learn more about the work of these scholars and activists, including successes and ongoing challenges.

Co-founded by Thijs Jansen and Alexandrien van der Burgt, PHF formed following the publication of Professional Pain (2005), a book which detailed the frustrations of many Dutch professionals with pervasive forces of deprofessionalization, bureaucratization, and lack of autonomy. In 2009, a second book, Professional Pride, furthered these messages and emphasized “pride” as a central value for all professionals to embrace.

Over the past several years, PHF has drawn on The Good Project’s conception of “good work” for a series of focus groups with professionals in different sectors, among them judges, physicians, educational officials, and accountants. PHF and associated scholars have also released additional books supporting their vision of a “Good Work society.”

In our sessions together, we focused on three professional domains where PHF has been able to exert influence.

Medicine: In recent years, Dutch healthcare has inched ever closer to the system in the United States, with high costs and insurers/private companies holding increasing power. Those opposed to these trends have had some success in countering them (for example, the government’s plan to abolish the free market for patients to choose their doctors was scrapped); but medical practitioners in the Netherlands are subject to new levels of policy oversight that distance them from patients. In The Alternative for Healthcare (2015), Jansen and his associates argue that the quality of care and a relationship of trust between patient and practitioner are the foundations of the medical profession. Two-thirds of Dutch general practitioners have successfully campaigned for measures that would reduce red tape, limiting the influence of healthcare insurance companies and forced competition between GPs.

Accountancy: Following the 2008 financial collapse, public confidence in accounting in the Netherlands collapsed; surveys revealed that 85% of people had no confidence in auditors. A crisis of identity for the profession resulted, with many accountants questioning how to ensure integrity and quality in their work. Margreeth Kloppenburg has been at the forefront of work encouraging Dutch accountants to be more ethical, accountable, and aware. As a result of the report “In the Public Interest” about the purposes of the accounting profession, 53 new policy measures were passed by the Dutch government. These measures include the allowance for external governors in accounting firms, penalization for individual misconduct, and the adoption of a professional oath and mandatory ethics courses. Kloppenburg is currently working on a curriculum to help accounting students tackle difficult ethical dilemmas on the job; she has launched a website called The Accountables, where accounting students reflect on vexing professional issues and share ideas and insights. While reforms in the Dutch accounting system could act as a model of “good work” practices, puzzles remain. The best methods of inculcating these ideas have yet to be determined, and students complain they are being asked to over-reflect before they have even entered into the profession. By the end of 2017, PHF will publish a book on the professional honor of accountants, written by accountants and other interested parties, as a force of change for the greater good.

Teaching: Education in the Netherlands is increasingly hierarchical, with the government dictating policy down to districts, to administrators, and finally to individual teachers. In 2013 the co-authored book Het Alternatief  (English title: The Alternative), Jelmer Evers, a candidate for the Global Teacher Prize, details a reversal of this un-professional top-down power structure. According to the scheme that he has developed, education should focus more on open dialogue for teacher collaboration/association, a reduction in burdensome instructional periods, and creation of national teacher academies. These recommendations have received attention from the Dutch Minister of Education and Parliament. As part of a global professional movement, Evers the co-authored an international follow-up book called Flip the System: Changing Education from the Ground Up (2015). Based on this work, together with Education International, Evers is organizing a worldwide educator network called TENGlobal which seeks to increase teacher agency through greater trust, a sense of purpose and pride, and collaborative effort and support.

Overall, PHF has pushed matters of professional identity into the national consciousness of the Netherlands, presenting a counter-narrative to the marketization and systemic weakening of individual choice apparent across the professional landscape. As Gabriel van den Brink, professor emeritus at Tilburg University, put it, a new paradigm in professionalism will temper the prevalence of capitalist commercialism with more relational and creative arrangements.

Truth and Goodness: Taking a Page from Ronald Reagan!

In a previous blog, I lamented the emergence of a “post truth”-“false news” public space—one where there is essentially no belief in truth, nor even in the possibility of establishing it. Given my interest in ethical behavior, I wondered whether it is possible to offer visions of “the good” when there is no longer a belief in the search for—indeed, even the possibility of ever establishing—truth.

I rejected two options: 1) surrender to postmodern skepticism about the possibility of rendering judgments of truth; and 2) clinging to the Olympian view that truth may ultimately be established but is not a viable goal for ordinary mortals in ordinary time.

While searching for a plausible alternative in real time, I suddenly remembered the words uttered by President Ronald Reagan as he laid out his stance toward the then still formidable Soviet Union. Reflecting on the possibility of mutually reducing or even eliminating nuclear weapons, the 40th president said, “Trust, but verify.”

(There are various wordings and translations of this phrase, which may date back to classical times—for my purposes, it’s the two key terms that are instructive.)

Turning first to verification, of course anyone can make any kind of assertion at any time. Those who encounter the assertion need to determine on what basis it has been made. And so, if, for example, the Soviet Union (or the United States) claimed to have reduced its stockpile of weapons, there needed to be surveillance methods whereby the accuracy of the claim could be ascertained.

The scholarly disciplines and forms of technical expertise that humans have developed over the centuries have embedded in them ways, methods, and algorithms on the basis of which claims can be judged. Sometimes, of course, the methods of verification are controversial, as are their realm of their proper application. Yet, within, say, economics or psychology or astronomy or civil engineering or neurosurgery, certain methods are widely accepted; only a cynic or an ignoramus would ignore or bypass them completely. Why re-invent the disciplinary wheel?

Experts frequently agree when the evidence is inconclusive, and then these experts are challenged to indicate conditions under which claims might be supported with greater confidence.

Each of us is better off if we can judge claims and methods ourselves or in discussion with other knowledgeable peers. But that state of affairs demands that we have achieved significant expertise; and life is far too short to allow any individual to attain expertise in more than a few, usually quite closely-related areas. No more polymaths in the tradition of Leonardo da Vinci!

Enter the second arrow in the Reagan quiver: that of trust. Only a fool trusts all claims blindly; only a skeptic does not trust anyone under any conditions.

And so the challenge for all of us is to determine who(m) to trust, and under what circumstances. In my own case, there are certain publications and certain websites that I have come to trust because they are disinterested in the best sense of that word.  Rather than seeking to find evidence to support a position to which they have already been committed, these publications carry out fresh investigations, are careful in their reporting, and—importantly—are quick to point out errors and to correct course. In cases of doubt, I’ll turn to The New York Times, National Public Radio, The Economist, and their respective websites (not, of course, to their opinion pages and columns).

Depending on the area of expertise, there are also certain individuals whose judgments, opinions, and conclusions I have come to trust. (Out of respect for their privacy, I am not going to name them, but they know who they are!) What these individuals will claim or conclude with respect to a particular case cannot be anticipated; rather, these knowledgeable individuals weigh each case on its merits, come to the best conclusion that they can, and freely admit when the case remains unclear or indeterminate. And, as in the case of the publications to which I have just made reference, these trustworthy individuals do not hesitate to indicate when an earlier conclusion or claim was off base.

With respect to trust, there is one potential source about which I am particularly skeptical: one’s own intuitions. Intuitions are sometimes well-founded; but when it comes to issues of import, especially as they affect others, evidence, argument, and consideration of counterclaims need to be given pride of praise. I recall an old saw: “No one ever went so wrong as the person who relied primarily on his own judgment.” (If this makes you think of a current political figure, you and I are thinking along similar lines.)

Bottom Line: If we are to continue to believe in the possibility of ascertaining what is true, we have two primary allies: 1) the methods of verification of the several fields of knowledge and practice; and 2) the existence of persons, publications, and institutions whose track record merits trust. It’s best if we can continue to draw on both of these allies, with the relative importance of each ally, depending on the particular issue and its ramifications.

So while Ronald Reagan was contemplating reductions in the arsenal of nuclear weapons, his pithy phrase helps us to think about the validity of the various claims that we encounter—claims that are essential to consider if there is to be any progress in judging and achieving the good.