Occam’s Razor

Occam’s razor is a principle that states that among competing philosophies, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected. Or, in other words, the simplest explanation is probably right.

There are so many instances where this can be principle can be comforting. For example, say I send a text or leave a voicemail to a good friend–maybe one I haven’t spoken to for a while but one who usually responds quickly. The message says something to the effect of: “Hey! Call me back. Big news!” And then let’s say I don’t hear back—maybe for hours. My mind almost naturally starts concocting an explanation. She’s dead. Or she found out about something I said years ago and has decided that she hates me. Or she has secretly hated me this whole time and is just going to cut me off without ever explaining why…etc. And then, inevitably, I get the call back, and the first eight words are, of course, “I’m so sorry! My phone died! What’s up?!”

And that, the phone simply dying, is Occam’s razor. Sometimes, I now actually say to myself, “Occam’s razor!” to reduce anxiety over things like that. Sometimes it works. But I think it is actually a natural a thing to allow the unknown–and, perhaps, my own insecurities–to start whispering in my ear. I’m pretty sure all humans do it, whether or not we often admit it. We have a hard time ignoring the whisper that caters to our emotions.

This whispering can be intensified if there is someone else agreeing, or even putting forth, fearful statements. Imagine another friend sitting with me while I waited for the response. And now imagine this friend saying, “She did seem a little distant last time we all hung out….” It might take something as small as that, and suddenly, even when she does call back and claim it was her phone, I might not even believe her. Occam’s razor might say, “She seemed distant because she was exhausted after work.” But now I have a more complicated, and let’s face it, interesting theory that could tie both things together. And it wouldn’t take me long to remember tons of other instances that, maybe, if over-analyzed could point me to the conclusion that not only does my friend hate me, but she was probably sleeping with my ex-boyfriend and secretly laughing with all my co-workers about it…

Maybe not that extreme. But I do have a good imagination. Meanwhile, what really happened? My friend’s phone had died. Of course, there are cases where that’s not the case–where Occam’s razor is wrong. And those are more likely to be the stories we tell one another, so maybe it even feels like those things are more common than they are. Who would bother to tell the above story besides a teacher/blogger on a summer break, attempting to illustrate an old principle?

Actually, there is, of course, a reason I bother to tell this story. I have been attempting to really understand why people hate Hillary Clinton so much more than they hate other politicians. Part of it, I think, has to do with all of her “scandals.”

I put scandals in quotation marks, not in a condescending way. I can see why people believe them. It’s natural. She’s a politician with a personality that grates on some people (most politician’s personalities grate on me) who really plays politics (something I’ll circle back to), so when we hear that she’s been accused of wrongdoing in anything, I can see why so much of the public latches onto it. It’s interesting. It feels right. It explains so much—maybe all the way down to our own problems at home. She’s been around and in the spotlight for a long time and has become rich and powerful, and, thus, she is a convenient target for our general fears about government and corruption. For this reason, the woman, it seems, has been under constant investigation for decades. Her closet has been turned inside out time and again in search of skeletons. And in this process, we’ve certainly commented on every pantsuit (literally), and found several distasteful accessories (figuratively)—and, of course, we’ve prominently displayed her husband’s dirty laundry in a way that must be painful to this day.

But we found no skeletons.

Occam’s razor would say that that’s because they aren’t there. Our fear, whispering in our ear, would say that’s because the Clintons are really secretly able to bribe and sneak their way around every investigation, murdering former partners along the way and managing to cover up all evidence of criminal activity—that they are masterminds who have succeeded in duping even their most ardent political enemies and privately laugh every time an American soldier dies. And the latter theory is more fun. But it belongs on Netflix, not in newspapers. Because if we allow ourselves to fall into this mindset, it becomes dangerous. Rather than spending all of our time investigating imaginative accusations and theories, we need to remember that we live in a country where people are innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around.

And even more importantly, we need to stop going down this track because there are things that are worth criticizing in Hillary Clinton that need to be addressed. As much as I admire the woman—and I do truly and deeply admire her resilience and strength, her ability to avoid getting dragged into the mud and focus on policies (which I agree with most of the time), and, of course, her example to me (and all women) as a woman who isn’t afraid to be unpopularly ambitious—as much as I admire those things, I don’t think she’s perfect. And I’d much rather the criticism of her focus on the things that are truly worth criticizing.

I’m not just talking about her fake Southern accent. (Side note time: Hillary, as a Missouri-born woman who has put up with too many politicians saying “Missour-ah” in that affected way that they think really connects with us, all I can say is, “Please, stop.”) The accent is annoying, but probably not the biggest critique that I would make of Hillary—or most of our politicians.

In fact, every four years, we work recognize the problem and work ourselves into a fury. So many people feel like there is no one to vote for. So many people realize that everyone, the more we hear about them, feels dirty. And that’s because they are. And that’s because we’ve let the game itself become dirty. And that’s because we excuse bad behavior when it’s for our team. Like New England football fans, we overlook a dirty playbook when it works, at least temporarily, in our favor. That’s what it has come to mean to be a Patriot.

But we should be mad. At our own politicians and party as well as the opposing party. The money involved in politics, a situation made worse by Citizens United, puts every public servant at risk of being under the influence of private interest. It hurts democracy even if it benefits your favorite candidate. I have been a Hillary supporter from the start of this election, but I’m critical of the amount of money she has taken in from people or companies who have the potential to influence her. I understand she is doing it because she is allowed to do it and that’s what she feels she needs to do to win—and that most politicians are operating under the same guidelines. Most have Super PACs. But this rule needs to change so the playing-field can be leveled. Many active politicians accept exorbitant speaker’s fees, and we probably need to figure out how to regulate or at least monitor this.

We can change the rules. But they get set before the election, not during it. So if you are really mad, you’ve got to work over the next four years to change it, starting at the local level. Those aspects of the game are set for this election. Some may feel like, for these very reasons, it’s time to play the Trump card. But that’s giving up, not winning. That’s saying to the world, we’re out. It’s saying to minorities, low-income families, and immigrants that we’re too frustrated to fight for them. And it’s ignoring the fact that Trump is doing the same things Hillary is criticized for. (For instance, Hillary’s highest speaker fee was 400,000; Trump’s $1.5 million.) And though he claims to self-fund his campaign, he has accepted millions in individual donations—and is not donating his money, but loaning it—a situation that has the potential to turn him a profit, if he so chooses. (I imagine, if Hillary had claimed to self-fund her whole campaign and had accepted a penny, she’d be roasted alive.) Not only that, the whole problem with accepting large donations is a potential conflict of interest, and Trump has enough self-interest in his own businesses to make the possibility that they would affect his governing seem pretty likely. So what moral stand, exactly, is a Trump vote taking?

Occam’s razor tells us that Hillary is probably not going to surprise us with a skeleton. She is probably not evil. She is probably not likely to be influenced by corporate money or self-interest any more than any other politician.

And, in fact, two major points in her speech at the Democratic convention were about overturning Citizens United and taxing the super wealthy. Supporting those two changes gives evidence directly against accusations of special interest in Wall Street or herself. And, even if you still suspect there is something sinister about Hillary, her voting record and the things she has publicly stood for have not been.

I will not claim that Hillary is always on the forefront of progressive thinking. Her positions have shifted in the moderate to left-of-center zone throughout the years, as they do for the many politicians who shift with their people instead of ahead of them. And she may not be the most charismatic leader we’ve had. But it seems improbable that she’s evil and undeniable that she is a political workhorse. And with a few important issues that seem ripe for bipartisan support in the next four years—including immigration reform, “common sense” gun laws, and student student debt relief—she is the type of policy politician who could find common ground and help us take some important steps forward.

I’m not asking you to be excited about voting for her. But perhaps allow William Ockham’s principle keep you from being afraid to.