I am reminded of an incident from my childhood. We were driving to Eastern Oregon for a fishing trip. It was late at night as we traveled down the eastern slope of the Cascade Mountains. Suddenly we saw, far in front of us, a deer, a beautiful stag, standing on the right shoulder of the road. His eyes were two dots of light as he stared at the advancing headlights. He was perfectly safe where he was, but suddenly he bounded across the road and stood on the left shoulder. Again he was quite safe. Still, my grandfather was slowing down the car as best he could, but the heavy Pontiac, with the boat trailer behind it, could not be easily stopped on the downhill grade. The deer sprang back across the road and stood again on the right shoulder. By now we were getting close, but he was still in no danger. As we approached, though, he jumped onto the highway and began to run right down the yellow line, ahead and to the left of the car's fender. Even yet he was safe. At the last moment, when we were almost up to him and about to pass by, he turned to look back and with a final despairing effort leaped directly in front of the car.

Whenever I hear it said, "But we have to do something!" about some problem or other, I think of that deer.

In talking to people about political issues, I come across this attitude again and again. There is, or appears to be, a problem, and something must be done about it. The proposed solutions, unfortunately, are frequently irrational or counterproductive. But when one points this out, the response is, "But we have to do something!"

We are told that rising carbon dioxide levels are causing global warming and that we must stop the burning of fossil fuels at once to avoid melting of the ice caps and disaster to the entire earth. In fact: the relationship between temperature and CO2 levels appears more complicated than was once thought; a mild rise in global temperatures might be beneficial, rather than harmful, to mankind and nature; and significant reduction in the use of oil and coal would devastate economies all over the world and eradicate much of the population of the Third World. "But we have to do something!"

Crime levels, especially in our major cities, are becoming intolerable. We hear every day of drive-by shootings, carjackings, sadistic torture-murders, and a host of lesser offenses. The solution, we are told, is gun controls. Yet criminals have no difficulty getting guns when they want them even in tightly controlled island societies such as Japan. And many thousands of attempted crimes are aborted each year by armed citizens. "But we have to do something!"

Millions of Americans are without health insurance and coverage for many others is less than ideal. This, it is said, mandates the need for nationalization of the health-care system. Yet countries with socialized medicine have poor health-care track records. Treatment is rationed, and those without political connections often die on the waiting list. Canadians come to the U.S. to get access to the prompt treatment and advanced medical techniques they are denied at home. "But we have to do something!"

Well, that's what the deer thought: he had to do something. But we are human beings, capable of rational thought. We ought to know better. When something needs to be done, better know what you are doing before you do anything.

Start by getting the facts. Is there really a problem? How bad is the problem? Do we have reliable numbers? Can we measure progress in solving the problem, assuming we make any? How?

A little analysis comes next. What is the cause of the problem? When did it start? What solutions have been tried in the past? How effective, if at all, were they? Why?

Only then is it time for concrete proposals to be considered. What possible solutions can we suggest? What evidence do we have that any of them will be effective? What would they cost to implement? What side-effects might they have? Could the solution itself cause new problems?

Of course all this information is generally not immediately available. Sometimes it requires extensive research and analysis to acquire it. But if we go off half-cocked and do something because we are too impatient to wait, the consequences can be a catastrophe far worse than the original problem.

Does this not seem to be common sense? Why do people not do this? The demand to "do something" arises, not because people are unable to understand the facts, but because they are unwilling to do so.

Take the case of drunk driving. Surely we must do something about this plague on our streets. When we catch somebody driving under the influence, let's pull his license after the third offense--or the second--or the first.

But it doesn't work, and we knew all along it wouldn't work, for two reasons. First, in our society--at least in most areas of the country--to lose one's driver's license is an economic death sentence. The automobile is not a luxury but a necessity in American life, outside a few very dense urban areas that have no drunk driving problem to speak of anyway. Without a car, he can't get to work, can't get to the store, can't get to school--so he drives without a license. And that brings us to the second reason: The policy is unenforceable. The police cannot tell at a glance that a driver has no license in his pocket, and cannot stop everyone to check. It's perfectly possible to drive without a license for years without getting caught.

But we must do something! Let's send drunk drivers to jail, then, and for long sentences too. This sounds very well as long as we are visualizing some anonymous, evil character from afar who might run down one of our children. But the real-life drunk driver is the middle-aged lady who lives next door. If she's picked up at a road block because her blood alcohol is one point over the limit, will you cheer for the application of a draconian penalty that will smash her entire life? Will you really? The reality is that our communities do not really want to put their members in prison for driving after one too many, and no amount of law-making or judge-prodding can overcome the opposition of the community.

What are we to do then? Face the facts. For better or for worse, the automobile is crucial to American life and Americans are going to drive. If we want them sober behind the wheel, we must ultimately ensure that they do their drinking at home. What nobody wants to mention about drunk driving is the simple fact that nine times out of ten when a driver is drunk he is on his way home from a bar. As long as people drink at taverns or restaurants, they will depart from them with alcohol in their arteries. Everybody knows, but nobody says, that if the police really wanted to crack down on drunk driving, they need merely post themselves near a bar and check the breaths of departing drivers. They can make as many arrests as they want. Of course the bar would quickly go out of business; and if the policy were made general, all the drinking establishments in the country, or nearly all, would go out of business. That is why we have never done anything effective about drunk driving, and it is unlikely that we will. We know the price that would have to be paid; we just aren't willing to pay it.

We are also much exercised at the moment with the issue of welfare reform. The formation and relentless growth of the underclass in our urban areas naturally excites concern. The cost is getting too high, both financially and socially. We must do something about it, we are told, and "end welfare as we know it." The big thing now is "workfare." We will insist that these welfare mothers train for jobs, and after two years, cut off their payments. One can imagine how much chance of success this has. These young women do not come from a background that encourages such job-holding virtues as punctuality and reliability. And for what jobs are they to be trained? The economy is already saturated with desperate middle-class unemployed, and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. Where will jobs come from for these semi-skilled young women with no experience, when first-rate, university-trained people cannot find a position as a gas jockey? As for cutting off payments after two years, that sounds very well; but we cannot cut off the allegedly lazy young woman without cutting off her children. We all know very well that we are not going to do it when the time comes.

But we have to do something! Indeed we do; we have to think honestly about where this problem came from. The fact is that we have removed the social stigma that used to attach to unwed mothers. It was too cruel, we thought, to ostracize a young girl for such a mistake. Let us be more tolerant. So we have removed the social sanction, and the result is that the girl is condemned to a life of squalor. Society was too kind to withdraw its respect; and now the one thing she will never experience in life is self-respect. As for the solution to the welfare mess, that too is evident once we think about it honestly. The dirty little secret of the welfare crisis is that these women do not need jobs; they need husbands. Their children do not need pre-schools and food supplements; they need fathers. The reality is that a woman who bears an illegitimate child is committing a crime, and a very brutal and serious crime, against her own child. The father is an accomplice in that crime. Until society is ready to condemn, and appropriately punish, that crime, no something that we do will have the slightest effect on the welfare mess.

There are indeed many problems we face as a society. If we approach them with careful judgment, and above all with honesty, we can always discover a solution. Sometimes it is to do something; sometimes to do nothing and let the problem wither by itself. What is never right is to run blindly into the headlights.

When Darwin published The Origin of Species in 1859, he started an intellectual revolution. Not just the ideas of evolution and natural selection, but above all the idea that human beings are animals subject to natural biological forces, had enormous influence on philosophers and social thinkers as well as scientists. The powerful influence of Darwin can be seen in the thought of Marx, Freud, Nietzsche, Spencer--the men who, intellectually, created the Twentieth Century.

As the Left has pursued its totalitarian objectives, its intelligentsia has repeatedly wavered between attacking and coopting the Darwinian paradigm. There was initially a contest between socialists and the libertarian "Social Darwinists" such as Spencer and Sumner for possession of the intellectual prestige of Darwinism. It was the Left, we should recall (though they do not want us to) that, in the early part of this century, pushed for eugenics and the sterilization of the "unfit". In the 1930s there was a reaction, and the Left surged to the other side, denying that biology had any relevance to human nature. Left intellectuals from B. F. Skinner to Margaret Mead advocated environmental determinism and proclaimed that human nature could be molded as desired by society.

This view was triumphant for a long time, despite its clear contradiction by both science and common sense. But in recent decades the application of Darwinian concepts to human affairs has seen a rebirth, mostly under the term "sociobiology". At first Left intellectuals responded with shrill invective; but the accumulating weight of the scientific evidence has now become so crushing that they are beginning to shift back to the cooptation strategy. Among the leading "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" thinkers is Robert Wright.

The Moral Animal is structured as an exposition of "evolutionary psychology," with the life of Charles Darwin himself used for illustrative material. This conceit makes for an interesting story, and Wright explains his subject with clear, readable, and entertaining prose. He is familiar with the relevant literature and has a clear grasp of the facts and theories with which he is dealing.

In a nutshell, Wright concedes the basic point that man is a biological phenomenon. Our behavior, and the emotions that drive our behavior, are seen in Darwinian terms as evolved mechanisms that serve the reproductive objectives of "selfish genes". Wright carefully surveys an entire array of human emotions, from sexual desires to altruistic benevolence, and shows how they arise from biological roots.

Where is the payoff in political conclusions? Wright invokes that hoary old standby, the "naturalistic fallacy". The "Social Darwinists," he explains, made this mistake in assuming that what was natural was good. On the contrary, says Wright, natural selection is evil, selfish genes make us behave badly, and we ought to fulfil ourselves as "moral animals" by fighting against our emotions. And especially, we ought to take care that we are not deceived by our biological urges, which cause us to rationalize behavior that actually has its source in concealed Darwinian motives.

Certainly an Objectivist must agree that we should determine right and wrong on the basis of reason, and be careful not to be biased by our emotions. But is Wright qualified to be an instructor on this point? His book is in essence an extended ad hominem attack in which the people with whom he disagrees are characterized as being driven by subconscious Darwinian urges to espouse positions that are not correct. But what of Wright? His philosophical position is one of utilitarianism and determinism. Ironically, he seems quite incapable of perceiving that his own beliefs could be attacked by the same weapon he uses.

Wright gives an entertaining account of conflicts among chimpanzees, and the ways in which chimpanzee politicians muster support. From this we see one of the earliest applications of "evolutionary psychology" as implemented in a social animal: majority rule. "There are more of us than there are of you, so we'll kill you and take your food." Primitive human tribes frequently show this same behavior pattern, with the human addition of rationalization: "We are the real people; they aren't really human." With the rise of civilization more subtle and sophisticated rationalizations were developed, including utilitarianism: "The greatest good of the greatest number." Or, as the Nazis put it, "Gemeinnutz vor Eigennutz--the good of the group over the good of the individual."

Wright thinks he has good intellectual grounds for being a utilitarian. But by his own method of analysis, utilitarianism can be reduced to a straightforward rationalization of a simple Darwinian genetic rule: "Try to become part of the majority establishment in society, and then be an advocate that it is good for the majority to be able to take resources from the minority or from individuals."

Determinism too can be traced to Darwinian roots. If we could look back to the beginnings of this concept, we would see an ape-man with a club, standing over the bleeding corpse of his victim, pleading to the other tribe members, "But I couldn't help it." Primitive cultures consistently create mythologies in which spirits or gods control the actions of human beings. Advanced civilizations still cling to determinism, for, in Darwinian terms, this rationalization is too valuable to give up. Only the explanations change: "I couldn't help it! Zeus made me do it--my id made me do it--my social conditioning made me do it--the quantum-mechanical transitions of the electrons in my brain made me do it."

Again, Wright casually and contemptuously dismisses those who believe in free will as unscientific. But he himself could be read out of court on the same grounds he uses to criticize others. He is simply rationalizing his selfish genes, which tell him, "Avoid the costs of being held responsible for your incorrect actions by claiming that your actions were not under your control. Give the same excuse for your allies--but insist that your enemies have free will and do wrong out of their own evil choices." Of course there is a logical inconsistency here--but determinism is a self-contradictory position, after all.

The Moral Animal is then, a good guide-book to the way human beings are. Wright, however, is not a useful advisor when it comes to the question of how humans should be.

Ayn Rand once said that all of the evils of philosophy have been perpetrated by means of "How do you know you know?" Epistemological skepticism is the root of all wrong thinking in this view. The most blatant and flagrant approach is exemplified by the "brain in a bottle" argument. This has been ably dealt with by Leonard Peikoff in his book on Objectivism. Still, there are some points that will repay consideration.

Let us state the argument as strongly as possible.

"How do you know that what you think you perceive is actually real? Perhaps you are just a brain in a bottle, placed there by a mad scientist. What you think you see and hear and feel is actually simply being generated by computer, according to the mad scientist's instructions, and fed into your brain by wires."

"And that's not all. Let's suppose you come up with some argument, call it X, that proves that you are not a brain in a bottle. How would you then respond if you are taken into a laboratory and shown a brain in a bottle which has been made to think it is you? It could then recite argument X to you to prove that it is not a brain in a bottle. So whatever argument you may come up with, it must be invalid."

The argument from the bottle may be broken down as follows: 1. Everything you know is derived from your perceptions, that is, from sensory data. 2. But sensory data can be false, as is shown by the existence of hallucinations, optical illusions, etc. 3. Therefore you cannot be sure that what you are perceiving is reality.

Now the obvious rejoinder to this is that reality must comply with the laws of logic. This allows us to test our perceptions. We can recognize hallucinations or other distortions of our sense data by their inconsistency; if we see an airplane with one wing flying overhead, we can immediately conclude that there is something wrong.

We can now see that the "brain in a bottle" image is not, as its advocates imply, merely a convenient example, one way out of many in which our perceptions might be false. It is the only way; for any random or ordinary interference with our perceptions can be detected by logic. The only way to consistently fool us about reality is for some reasoning mind to intentionally feed us false information. This is the only way to ensure that the false picture is self-consistent so that it cannot be exposed by logical checking.

Let us further note that the argument from the bottle relies on our failure to disentangle two strands of argument that have been cleverly woven together. On the face of it, the argument is personal and particular: You, some particular person, cannot be sure of your perception of reality. But implicitly the argument then extends itself to become general: Since this argument could be applied to any human being, nobody can be sure of his perception of reality.

But, as we have just seen, this argument relies on an inconsistency. For, in order to attack the validity of perception, it assumes that there is some person (the mad scientist, in this case; Descartes assumed a demon) who does have a valid perception of reality, which makes it possible for him to create the deception. The argument from the bottle relies on a basic self-contradiction.

We may perhaps see this more clearly by invoking the following rhetorical response: "No, I know I'm not a brain in a bottle. I can't be, because there's no such thing as a bottle. It is not possible for bottles to exist; therefore, I cannot be a brain in a bottle."

How is the epistemological skeptic to counter this response? If he says, "Oh yes, bottles can and do exist," the next response will be, "How do you know?" Will the skeptic then invoke his perception of reality?

As Peikoff points out, the skeptic is not willing to accept, on the evidence of his own senses, the nature of reality as it is. But he is willing to accept, with no evidence whatever, the existence of bottles, brains, and mad scientists!

What of the second part of the "brain in a bottle" argument? Suppose that I am taken to the laboratory, and shown a brain in a bottle that has been convinced by the mad scientist that it is Ron Merrill. The brain in the bottle then quotes back to me the same argument that I have just made, in order to show that it is not a brain in a bottle. How will I refute my own argument? Obviously I cannot.

My response is that there is no argument to refute, because there is no arguer. The brain in a bottle cannot validly argue as I have just done, because it is not a consciousness. It does not, and cannot, perceive reality.

An analogy may make this clearer. Any argument I make that I am a conscious, reasoning being, can be spoken and recorded on a tape recorder. If the tape recorder is then used to replay the argument, does this constitute a proof that the tape recorder is a conscious, reasoning being? Of course not.

Again, the "brain in a bottle" argument relies on obscuring the distinction between the particular and the general. Because some particular person could in principle be systematically deceived about the nature of his perceptions, we are expected to conclude that anyone's perceptions could be invalid. But the very argument assumes that someone's perceptions are valid; for it is by means of this person's perceptions that the deception is perpetrated. Note the fundamental inconsistency in the argument arising again; what the skeptic is in effect saying is: "I'll take you to the laboratory and show you, and you can see, relying on your perceptions, which must be valid, that your argument that your perceptions are valid must be wrong."

Adolf Hitler, like Bill Clinton, was born into a less-than prosperous family in a rural backwater, and had a very bad relationship with his father.

Hitler, like Clinton, was obsessed with politics from an early age and devoted his entire life to his political ambitions.

Hitler, like Clinton, was a draft dodger. (But, unlike Clinton, he was an unsuccessful one; he served in the German Army and became a decorated hero.)

Hitler, like Clinton, was relatively young on his accession to power, a representative of a new generation in national politics who called for a change in the old order.

Hitler, like Clinton, came to power with only a plurality at the polls (44% for Hitler; 43% for Clinton). Like Clinton, he ignored the fact that the majority of voters opposed him, and took his election as a mandate to make radical changes in government.

Hitler, like Clinton, got much of his political momentum from the support of aggressive homosexuals. And, like Clinton, Hitler betrayed his homosexual supporters once he had achieved power.

Hitler, like Clinton, was conceded by even his opponents to be a man of immense personal charm. He inspired intense personal loyalties despite his penchant for occasional towering rages. Like Clinton, he drove his aides to despair with his indecisiveness, inability to delegate, and micromanagement. Like Clinton, he was notorious for his flip-flops on policy positions.

Hitler, like Clinton, detested the military's officer class. He, like Clinton, flattered them obsequiously when he needed their support; but when he thought he could get away with it, he made a point of humiliating and degrading the most respected military officers.

Those who knew too much about Hitler's past, like those who knew too much about Clinton's, had a strange habit of dying under mysterious circumstances. (Note: Even *The Economist*, not exactly a right-wing conspiracy rag, has commented on the high death rate of people connected with Clinton's background.)

The Hitler of the early Thirties, like Clinton, was controversial, more for his personal than his political character. Like Clinton, he was dogged by rumors about sexual escapades, commingling of personal and campaign funds, and income-tax evasion. And again like Clinton, he faced a constant stream of scandals due to the unsavory behavior of his chosen colleagues.

Of course, one could also cite many differences between the two men. For instance, Hitler was the most spellbinding orator of his age; Clinton is a soporific speaker. Hitler was a high-school dropout; Clinton a Rhodes Scholar.

But here is the point. We have not really absorbed the lessons of the Nazi era until we understand how Hitler appeared--not to us, with the benefit of hindsight, but to his contemporaries. And the fact is that he played a role in German politics of the Thirties much like the role Clinton plays in modern American politics. There is not, repeat not, a perfect parallel; history does not repeat itself exactly. But there are enough similarities that we ought to be stimulated to think about how a creature like Clinton could be elected here; and to ask how historians sixty years from now will evaluate Clinton and the people who voted for him.