Reductionism is the nature of the times. We live in the Age of Reduction. We want people to put things in the simplest terms, to make ideas brief and accessible. Got a problem? No problem. As the Eagles sing, “Get over it.” Now think about how reducing ideas might play out in reality.
You can’t simplify without making things more complex. In fact, every simplification is a complication of sorts. Take factoring as an example. What if I want to factor 10. It’s 2 times 5, right? Twelve? That one is 3 times 2 times 2. The parts are smaller than the whole in that reduction, and, since there is no factoring of 2, you’ve reached bottom. But the answer isn’t simpler; it contains more parts, and, with regard to 2, well, let’s just say that trying to find something that is multiplied by something else to make 2 has kept many a mathematician up at night. ‘Where’s this going?” you ask.
Any time we reduce an idea or an argument, we end up with more parts or with discarded parts, or parts that, when reassembled in whatever fashion, alter the concept of the “whole.”
I know what you are thinking. “You are missing the point, Professor. Just having a view of the parts of any ‘whole’ isn’t a complication. It helps one to understand the ‘whole,’ just as understanding subatomic particles helps in understanding an atom.”
That might work with matters in science and logic. But look at emotional arguments, for example. The “whole” is a premise for an argument, but most people descend into attacking or defending its many parts. The tactic is understandable in this context: Each side tries to reduce the other’s argument. But in doing so, each arguer has a more complex task. When emotions are involved, reduction leads to complication.
It takes a simple mindset to make things complex.
You can’t simplify without making things more complex. In fact, every simplification is a complication of sorts. Take factoring as an example. What if I want to factor 10. It’s 2 times 5, right? Twelve? That one is 3 times 2 times 2. The parts are smaller than the whole in that reduction, and, since there is no factoring of 2, you’ve reached bottom. But the answer isn’t simpler; it contains more parts, and, with regard to 2, well, let’s just say that trying to find something that is multiplied by something else to make 2 has kept many a mathematician up at night. ‘Where’s this going?” you ask.
Any time we reduce an idea or an argument, we end up with more parts or with discarded parts, or parts that, when reassembled in whatever fashion, alter the concept of the “whole.”
I know what you are thinking. “You are missing the point, Professor. Just having a view of the parts of any ‘whole’ isn’t a complication. It helps one to understand the ‘whole,’ just as understanding subatomic particles helps in understanding an atom.”
That might work with matters in science and logic. But look at emotional arguments, for example. The “whole” is a premise for an argument, but most people descend into attacking or defending its many parts. The tactic is understandable in this context: Each side tries to reduce the other’s argument. But in doing so, each arguer has a more complex task. When emotions are involved, reduction leads to complication.
It takes a simple mindset to make things complex.
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