Wednesday, December 30, 2015

30th December, 2015



      I cannot escape an epistemology of some kind. There is no such thing as true, Feyerabendian epistemological-anarchy available to me, or, I must suppose, to anyone. For the very reasoning that would allow one to accept the validity of the epistemological free-for-alls Feyerabend proposes is the very reasoning that betrays its own epistemological biases. We cannot dispense with our faith in, say, science, without putting our faith in an alternative system of knowledge that illuminates science as unreliable. For example, we may point out that science is, as Feyerabend puts it, "a complex medium containing surprising and unforeseen developments [that demand] complex procedures and [defy] analysis on the basis of rules which have been set up in advance and without regard to the ever-changing conditions of history," but to make this claim, we must put our faith in an epistemological framework that says that epistemological frameworks should not have rules that can be defied by unforeseen developments. 
       Let me try to put that more clearly. We may imagine an epistemological framework whereby 1+1=3. Every time we apply this framework to the empirical universe, the accuracy/validity of the framework is confirmed. This goes on for centuries, until one day we discover a Humean blip in our experience of things, whereby 1+1 doesn't equal 3. And perhaps we have many other epistemological frameworks that have also proven infallible throughout the ages, but are one day defied by the same empirical data that we had, back in the day, used to derive them. Objects start floating upwards in defiance of gravity. Dogs start giving birth to whales in defiance of genetics and biology. Events start happening randomly, with previously supposed effects chaotically preceding supposed causes. Apples are tasted before they are bought and bitten; trains arrive at their destinations before they leave their departure point; mothers fall pregnant before fathers ever make love to them. Rivers run with wine and tigers start growing on trees. If we allow these strange occurrences to overturn--or even simply to problematize--our epistemological frameworks, we do so because we put our faith in an epistemological framework that asserts: "if an epistemological framework asserts 1+1=3 and it is discovered 1+1 does not equal 3, that epistemological framework is flawed." 
     Overturn science, theology, philosophy, or any epistemological framework you please, you will not have overturned epistemological frameworks as a general category, nor will you have arrived at a state of epistemological anarchy. You will only have arrived at an epistemological framework that states, as a reliable fact, that any epistemological framework whose assertions prove unreliable aught not to be relied upon (or something of that general ilk). 
     So I cannot escape an epistemology of some kind. Is that an axiomatic statement for me? Possibly. And what does this amount to? What is the epistemological framework that persuades me that I cannot possibly escape from an epistemological framework, that the thinking process is necessarily bound up with an epistemological framework, and if one gets rid of the latter altogether, one gets rid of the former (the former as one knows it)? 
     Tautology and contradiction. I think that's it. I think, at base, those are my intellectual foundation stones. And what do tautology and contradiction amount to? Why do I judge the validity of all propositions on the basis that "1 equals 1" is truth/reality/fact/etc., while "1 does not equal 1" is false/unreal/non-factual/etc.? Why, despite all I can believe, can I not believe that A is not A? Why, despite all I can doubt, can I not doubt that A is A? 
     I'm not sure, other than to say that there is that in me that feels dissonance and agitation in the face of a contradiction, and is restless to overcome said contradiction (i.e. there is that in me that is restless to resolve the contradiction, and thereby render the contradiction a contradiction no more). (This is not to say that I cannot enjoy contradictions; it is only to say that I cannot directly cognize them without a feeling of mental agitation and a correspondent need to resolve/dissolve them). On the other hand, tautologies induce a sensation of harmony, ease, and rest within me. When I encounter a tautology, I experience a sense of cerebral satiation; I feel no need to overcome or somehow get beyond it. When someone asserts that an orange is an orange, I feel no mental agitation. On the contrary, I feel mentally at rest. When someone asserts, with all sincerity, that an orange is not an orange, I feel mentally agitated; my mind's rest is disturbed and it will do all it can to get itself to a place of mental rest again. Either my mind will try to find some way in which the contradiction can be dissolved (e.g. by showing that the asserter is using the one term "orange" to refer to two different entities or qualities), or my mind will turn its attention away from the contradiction and think about some other thing. Tautologies feel stable, eternal, unchangeable. Contradictions feel unstable, impermanent, mutable.
     But the point of these musings was not to discuss the nature of epistemological frameworks so much as to acknowledge my enthrallment in them, and to point to my inability to step outside of my own epistemological framework and assess my reasons for believing what I believe and thinking what I think from an unprejudiced, unblinkered perspective. I am as one who realizes she might be blind, but having no idea what sight means, really has no idea what blindness means. I cannot properly acknowledge my ignorance, as only one who has transcended ignorance can comprehend ignorance. Only the man who has experienced blindness and sight understands blindness. The man who has never seen does not really know what it means to be blind.
     Having never stepped outside of my own epistemological framework, I have never been in a position to adjudicate its validity, and I have no way of knowing whether is has any merit or not outside of its own, self-ascribed parameters. Even my supposition that I would need to step outside of my epistemological framework is a product of my epistemological framework, and possibly incorrect (or correct, or something else entirely).
      If there is no way of assessing the merit/accuracy/validity of one's own epistemological framework--if this is what one's epistemological framework inclines one to believe--all knowledge becomes a matter of faith, faith determined by feelings. My epistemological framework causes me to judge all on the basis of tautology and contradiction. And this is to say that I judge all on the basis of a feeling of mental dissonance/agitation and a feeling of mental harmony/rest. I call the agitated feeling falsehood (inaccuracy; non-reality; non-factuality; etc.), and the harmonious feeling truth (accuracy; reality; factuality; etc.). This is what it all boils down to. I cannot pretend to any more stable or transcendent or objective reasons for believing anything I believe than this. 
   And when I acknowledge this truth (i.e. this catalyst of a feeling of mental contentment/rest/harmony) about my epistemological framework, I realize the door is flung open with radiant wideness for me to accept Kierkegaardian, Cherstertonian, MacDonaldian, Trahernian Christian faith with every bit as much vigor as I accept mathematics, astrophysics, and the testimony of my five senses. Provided the propositions of Christian faith produce in me the same degree of mental harmony/rest as the propositions of those other jurors (mathematics, etc.), their validity  will be of a piece. For though I am not free to accept any proposition ever put forth, and cannot accept any that produce a sense of mental disharmony in me (e.g. the notion of an eternal hellfire in the traditional, Dantean sense), I am free to accept any proposition that produces a sense of mental harmony/rest (e.g. the idea of an omnipotent LOVE at the core of all things).

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