Faith And Action
I had a comment on my Faith and Certainty entry that was essentially, instead of “I have faith that X,” try “I act as though X is true.” For the observer, and we all are, the indications that someone has faith in one thing or another is found in how they act. A person’s thoughts are only meaningful to others when they are observed though the thinker’s actions.
This would seem to be an effective way of translating a very private thing into something that would be meaningful to the external observer. I can place my spare change on the dresser which is an act as though gravity is true and won’t allow the quarters and pennies to float away, and it could be said that my action was an indication of my faith that certain things will happen due to gravity. Or I can set my alarm in anticipation of the sun rising the next morning and that’s an act as though the earth spinning on its axis is true. I guess that could be translated to “I set the alarm having faith that the sun will rise tomorrow.”
But, is ‘acting as though X is true’ necessarily the same as ‘having faith that X?’ When I put my change on the dresser would anyone really say that that action indicated faith in gravity? If I were a dunce and had no knowledge of gravity, would I act any differently? Probably not, and this would mean that acting doesn’t necessarily indicate faith. And does faith necessarily result in acting a certain way? I don’t think so. Someone can proclaim profound faith and their actions wouldn’t reveal that faith in any way. For instance, there are those who claim faith in a young earth based on a literal understanding of the bible. Except for their statement that they have this faith, you may never realize it in their actions. It would be difficult to imagine someone saying, “they act as though the earth is 6,000 years old is true.” What would acting like that be like? Yet, we can’t deny that these adherents of a young earth have faith in the bible being the literal word of God.
All this gets to is that in at least some cases, having faith and acting as though something is true aren’t necessarily the same. We can talk about faith and it means something different, even if only slightly, than observing someone’s action.
What about language? Can the use of language be considered an “act as though something is true?” Certainly. This may be the only way that we know that a young earth adherent believes in the literal truth of the bible. They are, in fact, very vehement in their assertions regarding the truthfulness of the bible and falsity of reported scientific findings. So, yes, their act of linguistic vehemence could be an indicator of their faith. But now we get into a quandary of people acting as though any number of things is true. After all, people can say or write just about anything and claim it to be true. How would we treat statements of con artists and swindlers? I don’t think those with religious faith will admit their belief is as easily pliable as that.
Let’s replace X with a religious concept and see what that gives us.
1. Tom has faith that God created heaven and earth in six days.
2. Tom acts as though God created heaven and earth in six days is true.
For me, statement 2 is rather tough to imagine. What would acting in that way look like? Or how about these statements:
3. Tom has faith that God exists.
4. Tom acts as though God’s existence is true.
Again, I’m not sure what the action in statement 4 would look like. Going to church? What if Tom is an agnostic who accompanies his faithful wife to church and goes through all the same actions that she does in church to keep her happy? He may act as though God’s existence is true (because he’s a considerate husband), but we can’t say that’s his faith.
So, where have we gotten? I think we can say that how a person acts is a good indicator of their faith . . . but not the sole indicator. I think the whole point of the comment was that so called mental states are only meaningful to others when they're indicated by action. While I agree most of the time, I think one can equate what's being said about a mental state with one's own private experiences or reports of other people's mental states that makes what's being said about a private mental state meaningful. For instance, it's perfectly meaningful to me when you say "I believe in God" even though your actions could mean any number of things including that you believe in God. And understanding that you believe in God doesn't necessarily mean that I expect you to act in a certain way. I don't have a problem that you're making an observation of a private mental state and I understand it to be such. My concern is this--what is the nature of that private mental state and how does it compare to other private mental states, such as certainty that 1+1=2.
Wittgenstein would roll over in his grave.
Comments
Steve, I’ll step my way down your post and see where it leads me. Your observations re: gravity and getting up in the morning are right on target. However, I’d observe that these simple actions show evidence of much greater faith than you, probably in the interest of space and brevity, explored. For example, placing my money on the dresser shows that I have faith that these coins were worth carrying home with me and carefully depositing them someone where I stand a reasonable chance of not losing them. Indeed, I have faith that they will not float away (though I may know nothing of the scientific concept of gravity), but my action also indicates that I have faith that the dresser, or the room/house it is in, are reasonably secure. Otherwise I might hide them under a sock, in a drawer, or in some kind of “piggy bank”. All of these actions indicate I have faith that these items will likely be valuable to me at some point in the future. I cannot prove, and nobody can prove for me, that these items, in fact, will be particularly useful in the future, but I act as if they will—I have faith. As for setting an alarm clock, this action indeed indicates that I have faith that the morning will come and that I will still be in a state of mind and health to want to accomplish certain things associated with waking at a specific time.
The answer to the question “is ‘acting as though X is true’ necessarily the same as ‘having faith that X?” is “yes.” When you put your change on the dresser, I would not say you had faith in gravity, gravity being only a word. I would say that you have faith that the coins will not float away. If you were a dunce (or a 10th century human), you would have no knowledge of “gravity” but your faith in the non-migratory nature of your coins would still be robust. To continue along your paragraph, actions always indicate faith however faith always leads to an action. Faith is inherent in action, even when we are uncertain as to outcomes. The faith, in some cases, is that action—any action—has the potential to change the world in such a way as I desire, that something meaningful can possibly be accomplished by my efforts. Faith always leads to action, even if this action is to do nothing but sit and breathe.
Pronouncements of faith are not faith. Pronouncements are actions, and these actions indicate the speakers’ faith that by their actions, by their pronouncements, the world may change in way that they desire. The desired change could be a number of things ranging from greater social prestige/acceptance, a cessation/start of certain behaviors on the part of others, etc etc.. If someone pronounces faith in a world that is 6,000 years old, what I really understand is that this person has faith that by telling me that he/she believes the world is 6,000 years old, that the world may change in a way that this person desires. Perhaps I will be more kindly to him/her, maybe the person anticipates having a desirable internal experience. It could be many things, but it is always something. Same thing with folks who pronounce a faith in “the literal word of God.”
It is not difficult to understand the con man’s game, he doesn’t have “faith” in the words he shares with you, he has faith that these words may cause the world to change in a way that is desirous by him. He will use whatever words will most likely create that change regardless of whether he believes the words to be true. Similarly, people can say things that they actually have no knowledge or personal experience of, and their pronouncements indicate their faith in the power of words to change the world, but not necessarily in the truth of the words themselves.
Your religious example is a good one, and I’ll follow your lead here as well. Since the time required to create heaven and earth does not practically impact most of our day-to-day lives, Tom probably only experiences this faith in the action of thinking or talking about it. Tom has faith that the action of contemplating/speaking about the time it took for God to create Heaven and Earth will create some kind of desirable change in his world (e.g., maybe he’ll feel better or others will think better of him, or he will generate a confrontation that he finds pleasing in some way). Apparently, Tom has faith that these desirable effects are most likely to occur if said contemplation/speech specifies 6 days as the required time.
For the proposition that God exists, which is to say if Tom acts as if the existence of God is true, some of the previous paragraph might apply. However, this proposition could have more expansive impacts depending on what.who “God” is to Tom. For purposes of illustration, for myself, if I replace “God” with “Mom”, I have a fair start at the answer. The evidence that others might have that I faith in Mom’s existence is found in the fact that I pick up the phone and talk to her from time to time, I hug her when I see her and care about her welfare and am interested in her opinions. Whether my Mom actually exists or not might be a matter of conjecture to others, but my actions would certainly indicate to them that I believe (have faith) in Her existence. Now, if “Mom” were a very powerful entity with the power to impose extreme sanctions or dole out significant rewards and this reward/punishment scheme was based on a fairly complex code of behaviors—oh wait that was Mom, to me, about 40 years ago. When I was 3 years old, I had enormous faith in the fact of my Mom’s existence, but my actions didn’t indicate that I had faith in her ability to always know everything I did, or that she would always be willing to impose sanction/withhold reward in the manner that she indicated. In the case of a Supreme Being, my actions would probably be significantly impacted by just how omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent and vengeful/rewarding I believed this Being to be…oh, and how much his/her code of behavior differed from what I wanted to do anyway. The more my actions deviate, the more this would indicate a lack of faith in the Supremeness of this Being. Perhaps my actions indicate that I only believe in a supreme being.
I’ll finish by following you down the trail of where have we gotten. Mental states are not visible to me unless I am watching a very sophisticated piece of medical equipment. I use cues such as posture, facial expressions, gestures, voice volume, physical actions (running, balling up a fist, waving, etc), and, yes, words, to assess another person’s mental states. Of all that I listed, words are the least revealing and the most likely to be manipulated by the object of my attention. Once again, if I tell you that I believe in God, all you really know is, as you say, that I want you to believe, for some reason, that I believe in God.
The final observation I’d make refers to your bottom line: “My concern is this--what is the nature of that private mental state and how does it compare to other private mental states, such as certainty that 1+1=2.” Most of us have very limited understanding of our own mental states, and the words we use to share our insights about these states are fraught with opportunities for deception and error. In this way the old adage that “your actions speak so loud that I cannot hear your words” is proved out and Wittgenstein is allowed to resume his slumber.
Thanks for the words Steve, it was fun to follow your lead, I hope this wasn't too long. I wonder what change it is I’m hoping to see!
Brad, thank you for your insights. You’ve pointed out some errors in my thoughts and I appreciate it. It’s been 30+ years since I’d done philosophy and sometimes it’s difficult readopting that analytical bent that’s so necessary to work through a problem.
Back 30+ years ago, in the dark ages, one of the most frustrating things to me was what I saw as twisting and forcing concepts for the purposes of analyzing them. I think what I found so appealing about the later Wittgenstein was that he had no qualms saying that sometimes that sort of analysis can only result in some sort of joke—putting something into a “language-game” where it just doesn’t belong. I may be mischaracterizing or misunderstanding his later philosophy (it has been 30 years), but that’s what has stayed with me all these years. Unfortunately, now I find myself slipping into the very misappropriation of language that I seem to dislike so much.
That being said, I can’t help feeling that when someone uses the word ‘faith’ in a religious context there’s something fundamentally different than using the word ‘faith’ in the context of putting change on the dresser. First of all, putting coins on the dresser assumes some things, like those that you raise. In actuality, I could run tests or analysis or experiments to scientifically establish the results of some actions, but I don’t because I’ve been taught or have learned that expecting the result is beyond doubt. So we take certain actions, not with faith in the results, but with results we’ve so often assumed that we no longer think about what we’re doing. If the word ‘faith’ has meaning in this context, it would seem to mean the assumption that leads one to take action without thought. But it seems to me that that meaning is something that most would find a rather odd meaning for ‘faith.’
If I say, “I have faith that my name is Steve,” you’re likely to accuse me of being a little odd. My farmer friends would say, “Well, that’s a stupid thing to say,” and in normal, everyday life they’d be absolutely right. It’s something that no one (with the possible exception of those I’ll mention in just a minute) would admit is a reasonable thing to say. It seems that the only time I can imagine that statement making sense is if the speaker is struggling with amnesia, mental illness or philosophy. And I believe that says something about the meaning of faith. What it is, though, I haven’t got my arms around.
Back to my example statement, “I have faith that God exists.” I think the religious would like their ‘faith’ to be understood as being as strong as the ‘faith’ talked about with gravity or my name. Something so commonplace or understood that saying it is an act of nonsense, so clearly assumed as the force holding my coins on the dresser (except the dime that winds up on edge and rolls off). But I can’t help feeling that they’re not the same. Can we imagine a philosophy or religion that doubts the statement of faith in the effects of gravity (even if they don’t recognize what gravity is). Yet, there are whole segments of population who hold that there is no God. There are large religions that do not side with the Judeo-Christian-Islamic God. The existence of these contrary opinions provides a whole new context for statements of religious ‘faith.’ Its very meaning is drawn from the fact that it’s not true for everyone, and even if the audience that hears it is like-minded, they understand it as taking a stance in a world where no everyone takes the same stance. It’s as if the speaker was saying, “Despite the existence of contrary opinions, I hold this as true.”
I’m not sure I’m being coherent or reasonable. I think I’ll leave it there for a bit and reconsider all that’s gone before.
Again, thanks for the discussion Brad. It’s invigorating.
I think the problem between you two is a difference in usage of the word faith. You see it the way most people see it, and you try to use it the way that most religious people use it. Brad, on the other hand, is saying that the people who profess faith in that manner don't really understand their own internal workings.
I like Brad's model and I'd like to expand on it from my own point of view. Faith is not something that happens in the rational mind. Belief, on the other hand, is (though linguistically there is no distinction as both have their roots in trust, I draw it this way to aid understanding). Believing is done with the rational (or less rational, heh) mind, and having faith is done with the heart.
The mainstream religious person believes in certain propositions because they have faith that their belief will lead them to good consequences. Do you see the subtle difference? Now, this faith may be misplaced. Believing that proposition may prove to be worthless. But do you see how one is a specific thought on the surface, while the other seems is a trust that this thought will pay off?
I don't like to use examples like gravity because there is no emotion associated with gravity. I think a better example would be deciding to confide in someone for the first time. You do not know if the person is trustworthy, or if another side of them will rear its ugly head and leave you heartbroken. But, you have faith in them. You act as if they will keep your secret and perhaps lighten the heavy burden it lays on you. You trust. This is something existential, not intellectual.
And when I myself talk about religious faith, I am never talking about what propositions I believe to be true. In fact, for me, I really don't care if God factually exists, or if Jesus ever walked the earth, or if the world was created in 6 days. I actually disbelieve some of that pretty strongly. But I have faith. I act as if these stories are true, not on a factual level, but on an existential one. What does it mean for me to have faith in God? For me, it means I trust that the world will not ultimately break my heart. That I can live without fear, put myself out there, trust other people, trust the events that happen to me. That there exists a level of reality on which all my worries and sorrows appear trivial, a level where bad is still bad, but it is also good. Where opposites become one and everything is whole. A place I can access when I have truly faith in it.
I'm not talking about another physical world, that is another intellectual belief. It's a very closely held, heartfelt faith that if I stop running, if I stop being afraid of consequences, stop holding myself back for fear of failure, it will ultimately be worth it, and I will find something no other approach could give me: absolute authenticity.
But often times my faith is weak, and I let fear slowly take me over again. I forget that all I need to do to reduce fear's hold on me is act as if it means nothing.
Thanks for commenting lightandstorm. You raise some interesting concepts. I’m not going to comment on the ‘faith’ that you profess for yourself. That would be unseemly. But there is something you raise I feel I have to comment on.
You say that I was talking about faith “the way most people see it . . .” and “the way that most religious people use it” while you agree with Brad’s assertion that when people speak of religious faith they “don't really understand their own internal workings.” I find that interesting. I can hear the people you’d say I’ve adopted, that I represent, saying, “What makes you think that what I mean isn’t exactly what I mean it to be?” There’s part of me that thinks it’s rather presumptuous to say, “you may think you mean something when you say it, but you’re mistaken. What you really mean is . . .”
If we say that people talk about themselves in ways that show they don’t understand what they’re saying, it sounds as though we’re claiming they’re making a mistake. They’re mistaken that their statement of ‘faith’ is one thing and not another. If that’s the case, at what point does a mistake that keeps being made stop being a mistake?
My dilemma, based on Brad’s comments, is reconciling a mental state that seems to be there in myself to the point that I’ve attached a word to it or have learned a word to attach to it. Other people use the same word and, more often than not, I can only presume that they use that word to describe something that’s about the same as I use it to describe. If I’m lucky, there will be actions to accompany the use of the word that will help solidify its meaning.
I’m reluctant to admit that when someone says something, what they mean can only be a consistent mistake. If they believe they mean that there’s some mental process that results in what they call ‘faith,’ I’m inclined to allow it. And my earlier posts were an attempt to figure out what that meaning for ‘faith’ entails. I’m still struggling with it.
Howdy again Steve, and hello to you lightandstorm. Three posts to consider, hmm, I think I’ll try to “chunk” your posts, otherwise I may be too daunted by the task of replying. I wasn’t having much luck “experiencing clarity on the keyboard” when I tried to reply to your first post Steve, so I’m glad lightandstorm replied, because your reply to him helped me understand where you were coming from.
As I see the basic question, when someone tells me that they believe something that isn’t obviously provable, how should I perceive what they’re telling me? Do I take them at face value, do I take them mostly at face value, do I believe them only slightly, or do I not believe them at all? My experiential reasoning follows:
1) Someone is telling me they believe something that is not obviously provable and is plausibly wrong (“I believe in a god that exists”)
2) I know that people have great capacity to deceive or just be wrong about things (the person might not really believe in god or they may believe but god may not actually exist)
3) I can’t verify what this person is telling me, and this person knows I can’t verify it (I can’t just google it)
4) So, I then have two avenues to explore (if I care to)—is this person serious? and is this person right in their belief?
5) To determine if the person is serious, I assess the earnestness of the spoken message and whether it corresponds with his non-verbal cues. For truly weighty issues however, this assessment is not enough to convince me, more is needed….
5a) For important issues, ones where I want to try to ensure that the person isn’t trying to deceive me in some way, I watch the person’s actions to see if they match with the stated belief. For example, if someone tells me that investing in the stock market is a really good idea, but they aren’t investing, I have to wonder why. If they claim they believe in a god that exists but don’t act as if one does, then their credibility wanes quickly. Why would someone lie about their faith in a god that exists? Who knows, people lie about far more trivial things than this, sometimes they even deceive themselves. If their actions speak louder than their words, I make the assessment: “this person doesn’t really believe, even though they claim they do. I don’t know why they are attempting to deceive me, maybe they are deceiving themselves as well, but, either way, I don’t believe them.” Steve, this speaks to your question about taking someone at face value if they say they believe…and was the thrust of my very first post: instead of “I have faith that X,” try “I act as though X is true.” You shall know them by their fruits…
6) If a person satisfactorily convinces me that they do indeed believe what they say they believe, I can still doubt the wisdom of this belief. “I believe it won’t hurt to get hit by a bus.” may be a fervently held belief, but I doubt the wisdom behind it. But, why should I care whether the belief is wise or not? In most cases I don’t. People are free to be wise and unwise and the rain will fall on us all just the same. It only starts to matter if I take the issue under advisement as something I should also believe. If I didn’t believe that it hurt to be hit by a bus, I would be well served to come across someone who did believe so, and was willing to share the knowledge with me—if only I heed their word. So, along comes a person who believes in a god that exists…yeah, so. Oh, by the way, all those who don’t believe will get hit by a bus (figuratively). Hmm, really? Well, I don’t want to get hit by a bus, so I listen to what they have to say (see step 1). I’ve already determined that this person is in earnest and lives their life, more or less, in consonance with what follows from believing in a god that exists. However, short of obvious physical manifestations of this being (a.k.a “miracles”) it is impossible to prove or disprove this person’s assertion. So normally, I’d sort of wish them a good day and go about my business. However, it turns out there isn’t just 1 of these people, there are millions, and they’re everywhere. They’re in my workplace, at the stores I frequent, in school with my kids, on the streets I drive…all stating with various levels of fervor and credibility that they believe I will be hit by a bus if I don’t believe also. Being the herd creature that I am, I am reluctant to discount the dire warnings of such a large number of people, some of whom I greatly respect for their integrity, intelligence, and/or good nature. Perhaps I even “give in” to these warnings and adopt the belief, perhaps, for example, for no other reason than so as not to feel left out. Also, I might very rationally determine that, well, everyone seems to think this is true, the cost of believing is low (it doesn’t really ask that much of me to say “I believe”), and the potential down side of saying “I don’t believe” is to be hit by a bus. So, what the heck, I might as well say I believe. You can probably see where this slope leads, now my statement of belief may be subject to earnestness-testing from the very people who said I ought to believe. So, I modify my (public) behavior, not because I’m having an internal experience that causes the change in behavior, but because I want everyone (even strangers like me back in step 1) to believe that I believe, including “the god that exists”. This is how a cult works.
Whew, that was a nice little thought train eh? Sorry about the rambling. So, basically I don’t believe in the Zeus-like God that I’ve been told about and that Michael painted on his famous chapel. It’s a nice picture, and as a metaphor, it’s very cool, but I don’t live my life as if such a directly identifiable entity exists, and is watching me…all…..the…time. So, not that anyone asked, but it seems like a natural progression, when it comes to “religion”, how do I live my life? The most obvious answer is, “I don’t know.” My blind spots are probably much bigger than what I actually observe about myself. For what I do know, I know (but often forget) that I am not my thoughts or feelings. These things move through me like wind through the trees (I am the forest) or like clouds through the sky (I am the sky). I also know (but often forget) that I am much bigger than I think I am and I am a sky that can hold unlimited clouds and a forest that can hold unlimited wind. I do not stop where my skin stops, but go on forever and ever, infinitely. I also know (but often forget), that nothing bad can happen, it sounds trite, but I describe this experience as “the universe/god/all/unity/cosmos/everything loves me”. And finally, I know (but often forget), that the present moment is perfect just as it is and needs nothing else. I often observe that just because things are perfect doesn’t mean there’s not room for improvement. But I’ll save that for another post, I think I’ve rambled enough for now. If you actually got to the bottom of this post, I’m amazed at your powers of attention! Namaste and take care.
Brad
Whew is right! Someday I’m going to have to find out more about you, Brad.
Excellent analysis. It was clear and detailed and helped quite a bit. I think I understand your point now and I think I’m largely in agreement with much of what you say.
For interpersonal communications, certainly we can say that the person who hears a proclamation of faith can presume that the speaker will act in a certain way, behave in a certain way, say certain things that will be the signposts we expect. If at some point, the speaker acts in a way that doesn’t exactly fit into our expectations of the behavior, actions or language that represents faith, we would say that the speaker doesn’t have as much faith as is claimed or is faithless. So, in order to understand the concept of faith as it is commonly used, the analysis should focus on how those people who say they have it act, behave or speak. In essence, in interpersonal communications, meaning is tied to empirically verifiable evidence. I don’t have a real concern with that.
How about this? A moment ago, before I started typing, I was sitting in my wing-back chair and for all you could tell empirically, I was doing nothing. In fact, I was thinking about this example. And it wouldn’t be a stretch for you to say, “Well, obviously you were thinking. After all, immediately following the period where you did nothing, you started typing on the computer and put your thoughts on screen.” But, what if I didn’t start typing? What if I got up and went to the bathroom? Would you then be wrong in saying that I was thinking? I don’t think so. You could probably continue to say it with full confidence. Why? Because you recognize that when you think, you often times do the same thing. Now, the question is, what is it I was doing while in the chair and what is it that you do that makes you confident in saying I was thinking? Does thinking require an act of some sort before it can properly be called thinking?
I’m not sure that example is too illustrious. Perhaps it’s more of a metaphor. The point I was trying to make is that I think we’ve identified the result and have concluded that the result is all there is or is all that matters. But the result seems to assume something that might be causal without admitting its existence.
Now, just to clear the air, in case there’s any doubt, which I’m assuming I’d be able to observe at some point, I am not a theist. I believe that the mystery in the universe is the science fact that we’ve yet to discover. I do not believe that there is some ultimately irreducible meaning for every word. And I believe that religion evolved over years and years with the necessary help of evolving languages. There . . . it’s said. Back to the interesting stuff . . .
Steve,
You have a wing-back chair? That sounds comfortable, we just replaced our previous chair, a sad excuse for office furniture, with a nicer version….big improvement in comfort, but, I’m guessing, not as nice as your ride. My guessing about the comfort value of your chair is a nice segue to the fundamental issue that has been at the heart of all we have discussed so far, which is the issue of certainty and uncertainty. What do we know, how do we know what we know, why is it important to know, what do we know that isn’t true, what do we not know, how do we know more? The truth of the matter is that there is precious little that we know with certainty. I don’t know what you’re thinking (or how comfortable your chair is), I don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing, I don’t know what tomorrow or next year will bring, I barely know what’s going on right now, I don’t really know what happened yesterday. We are all forced to live with great uncertainty, which can be frightening in a limited framework. So I try to figure out if you were thinking, daydreaming, sleeping, dealing with a headache, having a seizure, etc, etc, based on a host of cues. Depending on how strong those cues are, I develop my best guess about what you were doing, and I also have some sense of how probable it is that I am correct in my assessment. There are two human meta-skills involved here: evaluating the situation, and evaluating the reliability of the assessment we have performed. We can be very good at either, both, or neither of these skills. We are trained from a young age to be very good at the first skill but the second skill is not as actively encouraged, in fact, it is sometimes discouraged. We often make an assessment and, once the assessment is made, we move out as if this assessment is actually true…and are shocked, shocked I say! when the assessment turns out to have been wrong. Cue the start of drama here….
So, why are we constantly assessing and drawing conclusions and acting on them as if they are real? Because it works, sort of. It lets us size up the nature of threats and opportunities quickly and take necessary action. Failure at these tasks would get you killed back in the day (and sometimes so still today). Evading a saber tooth is a good thing, but why do I need to translate this skill into determining whether you are thinking or not? Is failure to accurately assess your mental state going to lead to my imminent demise? Maybe, but usually not. So what are we doing when we work so hard to evaluate everything, especially when we recognize that it is impossible to do? My observation: we’re trying to re-make the world as we want it to look, which is hard, hard work, makes us insane and slowly kills us. If there is one coherent message in all of religion, the spiritual nugget that underpins all of them regardless of their deism, it is this: CHILL. Which, evidently, is much harder to do than it sounds but good advice to us all nevertheless.
Remember my first post, “act as is X is true…”? This arises from the message to chill out. It asks us to go back to the basics and see what really is, what is really happening, not the layers of obtuse, disjointed, incomplete, twisted meaning that we lay on top of what is really happening. Just say stop. Stop the insanity and the slow death of us all. The penchant for adding layer after layer of meaning on what is really happening is how people convince themselves that killing others is a good idea because their layers of meaning are different than mine. This opens a whole area of discourse that I won’t delve into here, but suffice to say, it isn’t pretty.
Well, not as long this time, much more that can be explored (like, chilling), but that can wait. Hope you’re having a great weekend Steve!
BradBrad,
My wing-back chair is a wonderful old piece of furniture I inherited from my father-in-law. It comes with an ottoman and both are upholstered in leather. I’ve got it situated in the office next to my bank of bookcases with its back to the windows so when the sun streams in it lulls me to sleep. It’s great for reading, writing or doing nothing, otherwise known as thinking. But I have to be honest and say that my favorite chair, for all the same reasons, is the Morris chair in the living room.
You said something early in your comment that caught my eye and I want to make sure that we understand each other. You said that you may not know what I’m thinking when talking about what you know (or don’t) with certainty. I don’t think you mean to be saying that if I don’t know the contents of someone’s thoughts I can’t say that that person is thinking. Knowing that someone is thinking is different from knowing what someone is thinking. And I think we can carry that to faith as well. Knowing that someone has faith (stated or acted) doesn’t require knowing what their faith entails. You might say, “thinking is a process and faith is a state so they’re fundamentally different.” I’m not sure how I’d respond to that yet.
I’m not entirely sure what to think of your message to “chill.” The message that we create our own metaphysical problems is certainly one that resonates. And I’ll have to think for a long time about your description of how we learned to do things despite not having certainty. There’s something in there that seems to presume an irreducible finality to things. It’s as if certainty, or doubt for that matter, existed before humans as some sort of metaphysical entity that I’m not even sure how to describe. I’m not certain that I understand it entirely, nor am I certain that if I do I’d agree. How’s that for playing into your hand?
You’re right! It does boil down to knowledge and certainty. In fact, some of my earlier posts focus on just that. Back in the day, when I was working on my master’s degree, my thesis was on applying a probability calculus to determine the meaningfulness of knowledge or certainty. I’d set myself a daunting task because I was also trying to show that for a given context, or language-game if you subscribe to Wittgenstein, the probability values for certainty change. Unfortunately, I never completed that thesis (philosophy department funding cutbacks and lack of funds of my own), but even if I had I now think it was probably wrong-headed. I now see that applying the rigidity of a probability calculus to the meaning of certainty was like applying the rigidity of process management to listening to music. While it may have proven to be descriptive in a confining sort of way, it’s not at all what really happens when we use the word ‘certain.’
Where I think I was headed when looking at certainty and religious knowledge was to say that people can use the term ‘certain’ when speaking of religious concepts, but the meaning that it would have to have is so far removed from the class of meanings for most other uses of ‘certain’ as to make it almost nonsensical.
Steve
Steve,
Your library/den/demesne/lair/cave, sounds awesome. I haven’t put one together yet, instead I share a common desk with my wife and kids, and it isn’t in the sun, though I can look out at the woods when I take a pause from the ‘puter.
Actually, I did mean that I couldn’t be absolutely certain that you were thinking. Remember, every time I make an assessment of the world around me, such as “he’s thinking”, there is also the chance that my assessment is wrong. If I look at you and you are displaying all of the classic “thinking signs” I might assess my the probability of my assessment as 99+%, but regardless of the probability I assign, there is some chance I am wrong, and in fact, you are not thinking. The more certainty I assign to an assessment, the more likely I am to “act as if this thing is true—even though it might not be.” Of course, I usually do this stuff subconsciously/intuitively, I don’t actually assign a number to the vast majority of likelihoods I assess in the world, I internalize and move on. If uncertainty is high and the importance is also high, I’ll try to investigate further to increase my sense of certainty about the issue. Once again, and I stress, just because I feel more certain about my assessments, does not mean that they are correct. To stay with the same example, I can also try to guess “what” you are thinking. Naturally, it is much harder to get a sense of certainty when doing this sort of thing, but that doesn’t keep us from trying. In fact, it doesn’t stop us from drawing conclusions about what people are thinking and acting as if the conclusions are correct…which is nuts, but there ya go, we do it anyway.
Please don’t stress about the chill message or whether uncertainty existed before people. If the chill message resonates, then cool, you got it. If not, that’s also cool. Uncertainty exists in the presence of any entity that is attempting to gain information and make decisions in the world without having complete information. The deer stands stock still trying to determine if fight or flight is required, it is uncertain and scans/sniffs the world around itself intently seeking additional information. Likewise, every predator is uncertain as to where its next meal is coming from, it has to seek it out or determine where to cleverly lay in wait. Prey animals never know from what quarter an attack may come, uncertainty abounds. Whether we are predator or prey, or both, the same uncertainty applies. The only difference is that we have the ability to know soooooo much more about the world that we can drive ourselves nuts. In theory, perhaps, an omniscient entity could know how everything fit and therefore never be uncertain, but I don’t know anyone like that.
I think your thesis sounds like a good one actually, but it sounds more like a psychology topic than philosophical. I’d ask, “how does the ability to make accurate assessment about various aspects of the world around them vary between individual humans? If variation exists, what causes it? and what benefits apply to having a greater capacity for this sort of behavior?” But let’s not stop there, let’s also ask, “how does the ability to assess one’s own assessment and determine the likely validity of these assessments vary between individual humans? If variation exists, what causes it? and, what benefits apply to having the ability to make more (or less) accurate assessments of this type”
This takes me back to my original observation, and something I think you may have been driving at all along. Usually, when we talk about a person having faith and/or belief, we assume that this means that they have at or near 100% confidence in the truth of whatever it is they believe in. That is a normal way to look at it. However, I observe that when people have at or near 100% faith in something, their actions invariably reflect that certainty. So, if someone claims to have “faith” = “unshakeable certainty” I can merely observe their actions to get a sense of whether their statement of having faith is accurate. In most cases I see significant delta between the two. I therefore reject the casual use of the term “faith” to refer to only the highest levels of certainty—because this obviously isn’t the case in practice. So, I think your last paragraph is right on. I think many people use terms of religious certainty so loosely, that they have no comparative meaning. There are various reasons for this, but, for me, it has the effect of creating a “whatever” reaction to people who claim some kind of faith. Ironically, in many cases, the more loudly they profess their faith, the stronger my sense of “whatever” becomes. I’m not from Missouri, but Show Me.
Different note, I used to think scotch was an affectation, but not anymore.
Brad
A quick reply, and then I'll take the time to read it carefully.
Scotch, an affectation. Sheez. More like an avocation. Try Lagavulin sometime then tell me it's an avocation.
Brad,
I think at the end of the day, you and I aren’t that far apart philosophically. Your position seems to go deeper than what’s apparent in the use of language. Instead, you link that use of language to conscious or unconscious (private) assessments of observations, behavior, actions, events, facts. As you say, sometimes these assessments are done consciously, while most times they’re done without thinking based on learned behavior or other reasons. Belief becomes a matter of weighing the evidence and making a choice based on the perceived predominance of evidence for versus the evidence against. What it leads you to is that each time we make an assessment, there will always be some shred of evidence that prevents absolute certainty. But that doesn’t matter. Practically, claiming certainty is a matter of an assessment permitting you to act in a certain way.
I, on the other hand, am focused far more on the surface of things—the only thing we can point to as evidence of what you talk about—language. My position is basically that we should be able to tell everything we need to know by careful analysis of how we use the language. If the use of language isn’t instructive enough, the evidence for our analysis becomes murkier and murkier.
I think that’s why, through all these comments, I was a little uncomfortable with what you were saying. At some level, you dove below the surface and started analyzing what was in the depths while I stood on the bank and continued to be mesmerized by the surface film. And I think if you look at some of my arguments, I was reluctant to go wading, comfortable instead to infer the nature of the subsurface from what I could see on the surface.
Actually, to extend this bad metaphor even further, I kind of think that despite our best efforts, we can never see past the surface film. We can try to dive in through the surface to see what’s below, but as soon as we do we find that the surface (language) to be elastic and we never really break through. I have no problem affirming the existence of something below the surface (for instance, that there’s some sort of process that we go through before claiming certainty), but whatever that process is can only be evidenced through the window of surface film (language). What you’ve managed to highlight for me is that there are more than words or sentences or propositions in the surface film. There are actions, behaviors, facts, etc. A mime uses no words but is supremely expressive. But the mime’s actions, his expressive behavior, are the surface film of what’s going on in the depths.
Okay. Bad metaphor, but hopefully you’ll understand.
As for my thesis, my focus in philosophy was on the philosophy of language (ordinary language philosophy believe it or not) and epistemology. In some ways, they were kind of opposed. Much of epistemology treated knowledge or certainty as a thing—a kernel somewhere that people could point to and say, “that is knowledge, pure and simple.” It’s as if the family tree of ‘knowledge’ could be followed back to the progenitor. Ordinary language philosophy would say, “Poppycock, you’re confusing how we normally use language. There is no kernel, no ‘thing,’ called knowledge.” So, trying to come to a synthesis of the two was no easy task. That’s how I settled on ‘certainty’ as a process of applying a probability calculus that varied based on the context or situations of use. The problem that I hadn’t worked through was whether or not I was, in the name of ordinary language philosophy, betraying ordinary language philosophy.
Steve,
Again, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts, very much appreciated. In this response, you picked a very apt metaphor: going below the surface. This is what it is all about, this is what all the sages speak of and where the roots of spirituality, and, indeed intellect lie…all beneath the surface. It’s where all the heavy lifting is done, it’s where we live most of our lives, it’s where the world actually happens. The only thing is, most of us aren’t there to see any of that. Our attention is on the surface, while the deepness of life passes us by, we concern ourselves with the ripples and splashes on the turbulent surface. And, of all the brightness that glimmers and fascinates on the surface, none is brighter and more fascinating than language. It promises so much, and, indeed, in some cases, has delivered so much, that we keep hoping for more. But language is a fickle vein. In some cases, flashes of inspiration and insight will come to even those who are playing on the surface, like a miner panning for gold in the creek bend. However, to get the true mother load, to really harness all that language would have to offer, the miner must go deep, very deep. Few of us know how to do that. It’s not something our religions teach us very well (if at all) and our secular education doesn’t even try, encouraging our children to instead stay very much on the surface of all things.
You also observed that there is much more on the surface than language, and I agree. All of the cues and various shreds of physical evidence that we’ve discussed so far are also on the surface, the flotsam to the jetsam of language.
Ya know, as I type this, I’m struck again by how insightful your metaphor is, is it one you use very often? Whether intentionally or not, your observations and questions that follow from them strike the major chord of spirituality and,, by extension, religion: namely, how do we experience God (I know you’re not a deist, either am I in the conventional sense but hang with me). Your almost plaintive observation that, “I kind of think that despite our best efforts, we can never see past the surface film. We can try to dive in through the surface to see what’s below, but as soon as we do we find that the surface (language) to be elastic and we never really break through.” is by degrees the same as Jesus lamentation on the cross “Father, why have you forsaken me?!” For what it’s worth, and you don’t know me from, well, Adam, but it is possible to break through the surface, it is possible to see what’s below.
I’m curious, have you ever tried any meditative disciplines?
Brad,
This may end up being where our differences are most pronounced. As you can guess, I'm far more suspicious of whatever it is that's beneath the surface. I tend to believe it's an illusion created, in part, by our mental mismanagement of the things we observe, including language. I have a hard time believing that all these conversations we've had are anything more than complex sequential firings of neurons in the brain. Some of those firings are apt to get out of sequence and lead us down paths that are wrong. I'm not perfect. I'm simply one of the universe's wonders and a very small one at that. I'll have more to say on this soon.
I love using water as a metaphor. It adapts itself to just about anything. I write some fiction and poetry and water plays an important role. But this is the first time that I recall using the metaphor of water in quite this way.
As for meditative disciplines, I've read a lot about them, but never tried them. Once again, I get leary of the idea of a "transcendant mind" (my words) as if there is such a thing as spirit or existence beyond nature.
You might enjoy a book I'm currently reading. It's by Jennifer Michael Hecht and it's titled, "Doubt: A History." It's really very good reading and very informative. I highly recommend it.
Steve
Hello Steve,
No worries, the whole “surface, below the surface” is just an inexact metaphor anyway. Actually, so is the neuron firing sequence you describe, but I’ll go with that one. I assume what you are describing are the basic physical processes that are the substrate upon which our supposed consciousness is based? If so, then, as purely physical (deterministic?) processes, how can they ever go “out of sequence” or go down “wrong” paths? These phrases are only the judgments of a conscious mind supposing what the “in sequence” and “right path” ought to be. But at the physical level where consciousness is born, there is no should or ought, only “is”. Where do you suppose we get these notions of “should” or “ought”? What do you think it costs us to live the vast majority of our lives in “should” and “ought” vs “is” and……do we have any choice?
Brad
Brad, what I was trying to post earlier was that notions of "should" or "ought" are learned, just like everything else. I won't presume to guess how the biology of the brain allows us to learn. But it does. And I'm happy believing that all the things that someone might say are innate, are actually learned. I also think that brains are problem solving machines. Unfortunately, it's not a perfect problem solving machine capable of infallibility. That's where I think all our notions of soul and God and heaven and hell come from. But, I'm diverging.
My big interest is in the area that provides us with the best window we have on the brain--language. I don't know the physiology of the brain, but I do use language about as well as most. And I feel that if I can understand the language, I can understand where most of the really sticky philosophical problems originate. Maybe . . .
Steve