A Mendacious Triangular Trade (Part VII)
So . . . if we're truly honest when we claim to know something, what we really mean is that we know (1) that everythng has a cause, and (2) that the conclusions that logically follow from true premises are also true. This does not mean (1) that we know what the causes are, or (2) that we have ever known a true premise.
That's it, sports fans. We know nothing for sure about the world of things and ideas. We know only that all things and all ideas relate in an intelligible way, and we know that that way involves the law of causes and the rules of logic.
But how do we know this? How did we learn the truth of the law of causes and the the rules of logic. Answer: we didn't learn either of those things. They are not "true" in the same sense that the conclusions of logical arguments are true. They are true simply because it is impossible to doubt them.
"Whudda ya' mean I can't doubt them? I doubt everything."
Do you doubt that you just spoke? Or that the words you spoke were in some sense caused? You're like the drunken man who was running around a pole, beating it with his fists, and screaming, "Let me out! Let me out!" The human mind in its workings obeys the law of causes. In the true statements it makes, it obeys the rules of logic. In our being we are caused, and to the extent we understand our being we are logical.
But this seems to say that we cannot truly know anything beyond the law of causes and the rules of logic. It seems to say that every idea, no matter how cockeyed, is just as true as any other idea. It seems to make a case for the deadliest sort of so-called "multiculturalism." If our ideas are the effects of causes we cannot claim to know for sure, if our logical conclusions depend on the truth of premises we cannot claim are true, then what's the difference between conflicting ideas?
The answer should be obvious. If two ideas are absolutely contradictory, then (logically) one or both of them must be wrong. If one person claims that it's OK to strap explosives around his waist and blow himself and others into little pieces, and another says that's foolishness, one of them must be wrong (maybe even both of them). The premise that life is preferable to death lurks behind both conclusions. It's just that the terrorist person believes that the word "life" refers to something eternal (death is an illusion), and the other believes the word refers to something here-and-now. How can such differences possibly be resolved?
Well, look carefully at the premise, "life is eternal." Is there anyway -- by analysis of causes and effects -- to know that statement is true. "No." The way human beings are put together does not permit them to know of causes and effects that occur beyond the grave. (That's a premise itself that may be doubted, but I do not intend to get into it.) But we can say that every person -- both the mad bomber and everyone else -- would desire to live. (Another premise.) The bomber's desire to live is not mitigated by his choice of death, since he believes that, by dying, he is crossing over into a better life. The rest of us need admit nothing more than that we prefer not to be killed. Taken to its end, we can choose with a high degree of certainty between the two beliefs. We choose life. We choose to stand in opposition to the notion that it's OK to kill yourself and others.
It could be said that by either set of premises we are obliged to exercise a degree of faith. We cannot know for certain that the mad bomber's belief in life's eternity is false. We cannot know for certain that he is not "this day in paradise." He may be right . . . or he may be wrong. We do know, however, that in order to continue living -- by either premise -- we must choose one or the other.
Of course, we could tentatively accept two premises: (1) life is eternal, and (2) it's not OK to kill ourselves or other people. Living by these premises we could have our cake and eat it too. Life would work just fine. But notice that there is a not so subtle difference between these premises. The first must forever remain unknown and unknowable to living people, while the second can at least be affirmed as a good principle by the very fact that we all wish to live. We need admit no more than that to recognize life itself as an ultimate value. We do not need to go through the exercise of logical analysis to arrive at the conclusion that life is dear, and that we all desire to persevere in our being. But once we arrive at that principle -- whether by conscious deduction or by intuition -- we may then judge of other matters with more assurance than if we regarded life as of no more value than death.
The rest is all in the details -- where we are told the devil makes his home.
That's it, sports fans. We know nothing for sure about the world of things and ideas. We know only that all things and all ideas relate in an intelligible way, and we know that that way involves the law of causes and the rules of logic.
But how do we know this? How did we learn the truth of the law of causes and the the rules of logic. Answer: we didn't learn either of those things. They are not "true" in the same sense that the conclusions of logical arguments are true. They are true simply because it is impossible to doubt them.
"Whudda ya' mean I can't doubt them? I doubt everything."
Do you doubt that you just spoke? Or that the words you spoke were in some sense caused? You're like the drunken man who was running around a pole, beating it with his fists, and screaming, "Let me out! Let me out!" The human mind in its workings obeys the law of causes. In the true statements it makes, it obeys the rules of logic. In our being we are caused, and to the extent we understand our being we are logical.
But this seems to say that we cannot truly know anything beyond the law of causes and the rules of logic. It seems to say that every idea, no matter how cockeyed, is just as true as any other idea. It seems to make a case for the deadliest sort of so-called "multiculturalism." If our ideas are the effects of causes we cannot claim to know for sure, if our logical conclusions depend on the truth of premises we cannot claim are true, then what's the difference between conflicting ideas?
The answer should be obvious. If two ideas are absolutely contradictory, then (logically) one or both of them must be wrong. If one person claims that it's OK to strap explosives around his waist and blow himself and others into little pieces, and another says that's foolishness, one of them must be wrong (maybe even both of them). The premise that life is preferable to death lurks behind both conclusions. It's just that the terrorist person believes that the word "life" refers to something eternal (death is an illusion), and the other believes the word refers to something here-and-now. How can such differences possibly be resolved?
Well, look carefully at the premise, "life is eternal." Is there anyway -- by analysis of causes and effects -- to know that statement is true. "No." The way human beings are put together does not permit them to know of causes and effects that occur beyond the grave. (That's a premise itself that may be doubted, but I do not intend to get into it.) But we can say that every person -- both the mad bomber and everyone else -- would desire to live. (Another premise.) The bomber's desire to live is not mitigated by his choice of death, since he believes that, by dying, he is crossing over into a better life. The rest of us need admit nothing more than that we prefer not to be killed. Taken to its end, we can choose with a high degree of certainty between the two beliefs. We choose life. We choose to stand in opposition to the notion that it's OK to kill yourself and others.
It could be said that by either set of premises we are obliged to exercise a degree of faith. We cannot know for certain that the mad bomber's belief in life's eternity is false. We cannot know for certain that he is not "this day in paradise." He may be right . . . or he may be wrong. We do know, however, that in order to continue living -- by either premise -- we must choose one or the other.
Of course, we could tentatively accept two premises: (1) life is eternal, and (2) it's not OK to kill ourselves or other people. Living by these premises we could have our cake and eat it too. Life would work just fine. But notice that there is a not so subtle difference between these premises. The first must forever remain unknown and unknowable to living people, while the second can at least be affirmed as a good principle by the very fact that we all wish to live. We need admit no more than that to recognize life itself as an ultimate value. We do not need to go through the exercise of logical analysis to arrive at the conclusion that life is dear, and that we all desire to persevere in our being. But once we arrive at that principle -- whether by conscious deduction or by intuition -- we may then judge of other matters with more assurance than if we regarded life as of no more value than death.
The rest is all in the details -- where we are told the devil makes his home.
posted by Benedict S. at 10:25 AM
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