What If We're Wrong?

[Author’s note: Not to be confused with the Chuck Klosterman book of the same name, but does share the basic premise, that is, what if we’re wrong about many of our commonly held beliefs? I take a more practical approach to the question, whereas much of Klosterman’s commentary – which is nonetheless quite interesting – is more esoteric.]

 

I am guilty of doing it more often than I’d like, behaving like everyone else, much to my chagrin. While I often think about how I could help the world be a better place as it seems to descend further and further into madness, I usually come up empty-minded, with no easy solutions and quietly wishing for a comet to strike the planet ala Don’t Look Up. Then it dawned on me as I was reading Chuck Klosterman’s book, But What if We’re Wrong? – the title of the book; what if we asked ourselves that question before being so certain of our beliefs? For example, before hitting ‘send’ on that tweet, what if we asked ourselves, “What if I’m wrong about what I’m saying?”

 

The problem with old-timey Western European philosophers is that, by-and-large, their arguments are only successful in a vacuum and suppose common people en masse can be convinced to take the time and think philosophically, and then actually apply those ideas in the real world. This doesn’t happen very often if at all, and very few people enjoy the mental masturbation of thinking deeply about anything. This is perhaps due to human beings’ motivations not being all that deep or interesting. That said, it is no wonder that ‘academics’ are regarded with suspicion by authoritarian leaders…who really don’t have that much to fear from academics being that even the general population thinks of philosophers as bullshit artists. Why would this be the case? As I said, most people just can’t be asked to think very deeply about anything. But, if this is a case of conditioning, here’s where my idea can play a critical role in how we treat each other.

 

Suppose when interacting with other people, before we speak or act we ask ourselves, “What if I’m wrong?” Think about how far this question would go in beginning thought processes that go deeper. I might add that asking this question really should be our default position since – when considering human history – we’ve been wrong about far more things than right. (This is still the case today.) The only problem is that asking the question is likely to be cut off at the knees due to an overriding self-righteousness driven by our lust for power (however minor or illusionary).

 

But let’s say in the off chance that we’re able to stop ourselves and ask, “What if I’m wrong?” what follows? If we’re trying to make factual claims, such claims are easy enough to corroborate, at least until disinformation campaigns and deep fakes become even more prevalent. If we’re stating matters of opinion, we can ask ourselves why we hold the opinions we do, what is the opposing view and why does someone hold their positions, are there any other competing views that may illuminate a false dichotomy, and perhaps most importantly what is the consequences of stating my position? Am I stating a point of view for the sake of being right? Am I just trolling? Is it for the well-being of society? (Keep in mind just about everyone thinks this.) We might also ask ourselves, No, really, what if I am wrong and I get torched for it? Having the foresight to think of possible consequences is another trait most of humanity could stand to cultivate. Trust me, in the U.S. society is a disaster because both the left- and right-wings, and corporations prefer the lot of us to act on nothing but impulse. I could be wrong about why society is a disaster, but if I am wrong I’ll own up to it. And this is something else asking ourselves, “What if I’m wrong?” aims to do – foster some goddamn humility.

 

Few people are going to disagree that we need less humility in the world. I’m not saying anyone should be a pushover instead, but rather accept the reality that none of us are right about everything – again, we’re likely to be wrong about whatever we’re on about – and be willing to accept this fact (and I’m not wrong that our propensity for wrongness is a fact). But what if I’m wrong about how much better the world would be if we asked my important question? The consequences would not be dire; people would just resume what these days is normal behavior.

 

But let’s say I’m an oil executive who insists that fossil fuels aren’t helping to change the climate, that climate change is not being driven by human activity. What if I’m wrong about that? The consequences wouldn’t be that dire for me; I guess my fortunes would keep me comfortable at least for the rest of my lifetime. For everyone else, though, well, you’re screwed and I don’t care because I’ll be fine. Ah, but do I want my name (my genes, really) to go on? And would I’d rather send my progeny into a world where climate change isn’t an issue, giving them one less thing to worry about? So, there could be dire consequences, just not immediately. And there is a myriad of questions we could raise about being wrong in this instance which could give us insight into the consequences of being wrong. But if we don’t ask ourselves if we could be wrong we’d never be capable of any meaningful thought on an issue or be able to see into the future.

 

To be fair, on the other hand, what if climate scientists are wrong about climate change, that the earth is experiencing a normal, cyclic change in overall temperature? Let’s say the belief that humans are driving climate change drives us towards more and more renewable energy sources and away from fossil fuels, what are the terrible consequences of being wrong in this case? When you consider clean air and water, this alone would be enough for me to say I would accept the consequences of being wrong even if it meant a few people who work in the fossil fuel industry would lose their jobs. [People lose their jobs all the time; they can be retrained if they’re willing. I’d be willing to lose a job I had if it meant a more beautiful, and cleaner, less-toxic environment.] So, some consequences can be quite unfavorable and others favorable if we’re wrong on an issue. But – again – we’ve got to ask the question first.

 

We’ve all seen the consequences of a world in which people act without foresight and are reactionary in the moment. Does society have to behave like this, thus becoming less civilized? Impulses may compel us but the more reason is cultivated, the more we may dull the sword of impulse. As it stands, impulse is cutting all of our relationships to ribbons. Think about the consequences of continuing this course of behavior. Is it worth it? Let’s start by asking ourselves if its wrong to act like this; what are the consequences if we change our behavior so that our interactions have more favorable results (i.e. less harm)? My guess is even if we’re wrong to temper our impulses, if we’re wrong that causing less harm is actually doing more harm, we can see that makes no sense. I’d dare say that most of us would recognize this as insanity. I’d dare say most of us would not like to see society continue in this way. So, we should stop behaving in this manner, and all we have to do is ask a simply question.

 

Practice it. Practice it and it gets easier to do. If we find that asking ourselves if we’re wrong does not lead to better outcomes, we haven’t lost much and I can go back to wishing for a comet to strike the planet. I shouldn’t want to wish for that. But maybe I’m wrong.

The Definition of God, Dammit (Part Two)

[Note: This entry is ancillary to last year’s blog, “The Definition of God, Dammit.”]

Does God exist? Before we can even attempt to answer such an awkward question, a universally acceptable definition of God is the most fundamental matter that must be settled. Whether or not any god can be said to exist will lie in our ability to define what qualifies as a god. If we are unable to define what a god is, then can God really be said to exist? How would we recognize God? Without a standard we can all agree upon for what qualifies as a god, we are faced with several prospects: That all definitions of a god are possibly valid, all definitions are invalid, or all definitions are at least worth considering because one may in fact be correct. Yet without that universal definition, we can’t be sure who is right and who is wrong. It may also be that God indeed exists despite our ability to define the extraordinary, but if we are unable to identify the qualities associated with a god as a means of recognition, then the whole concept of a deity existing in reality is rather useless if not downright irritating. Like elevator music. 

Can God be universally defined? Despite our seemingly advanced ability to communicate, we have not been able to adequately do this. Hindu's have a certain idea about what a god is, while Muslims have something entirely different in mind. No two religions ever appear on the same page (duh, otherwise they’d be the same religion). It cannot be the case that all concepts of God are equally valid because many religions exclude the possibility of other gods besides their god(s). What it comes down to is this: for a god to exist there must be one definition of what characteristics constitute the deity, so that we are able to identify God in much the same way we are able to identify a coconut, being that there is a general consensus of what the term “coconut” means even regardless of the language being spoken. With that definition we are able to recognize coconuts as being what they are. Either we have a term that identifies an entity or entities as a god or gods, or we do not. If not, the rational man cannot conclude God exists because you cannot believe in what has no definition^*. Feel free to become an atheist by default.

[* You might be thinking that if you were to encounter something you did not know the name of or have a name for, you could believe in the existence of something for which there is no definition. This is false. You may not realize it, but whichever one or more of your senses has perceived the whatever-it-is has attached certain characteristics to the whatever-it-is as a means of recognition. Only if deprived of all your senses would you not “recognize” anything.]

Is it the case that the idea of God is so incredible that the human mind (designed by God some would say) simply cannot define the word? That is in fact the argument of many agnostics. However, agnostics cannot show that this is not possible, merely that it just hasn’t happened yet. Hypothetically speaking, if a clear cut, unilateral definition of God were handed down tomorrow, agnostics would have to wrestle with that definition and come to a conclusion one way or the other. If the agnostic is going to suspend judgment about the existence of God based on lack of a definition, again, there is no practicality whatsoever in supposing that God might exist, unless the agnostic is accepting a form of Pascal’s Wager^**. If God actually does exist (ahem, citing a proper definition) I wonder if the G-man forgives such ambivalence.

[** From Wikipedia: Pascal's Wager (also known as Pascal's Gambit) is Blaise Pascal's application of decision theory to the belief in God. Pascal argues that it is always a better "bet" to believe in God, because the expected value to be gained from believing in God is always greater than the expected value resulting from non-belief. Note that this is not an argument for the existence of God, but rather one for the belief in God. Pascal specifically aimed the argument at such persons who were not convinced by traditional arguments for the existence of God. With his wager he sought to demonstrate that believing in God is more advantageous than not believing, and hoped that this would convert those who rejected previous theological arguments. The incompleteness of his argument is the origin of the term Pascal's Flaw.]

The problem is that even as great as our communication techniques are, they are often inadequate in explaining just about anything, object or concept, when you really want to be a prick about it. Asking for the definition of “X” is a time honored tradition among philosophers meant to demonstrate that an opponent has no idea what they are talking about. If a chair is defined as an object that you sit on that usually (but not necessarily) has four legs and back support, well then, lots of things might qualify as a chair. Lots of things might also qualify as a god, but if we’re talking about the “One True God,” then only one definition will do.

That brings us to “conceptual failure.” Have you ever had an idea that seemed reasonably clear in your own mind but that you found difficult to put into words clear enough for another person to understand? This doesn't make an idea automatically false or invalid, but without clarity what good is this idea of yours in the first place? A god may be well defined in someone's own mind, but that this definition probably has little universal acceptance implies a conceptual failure. For atheists this is not a problem; we don't go around trying to define that which does not exist. An ambiguous concept doesn’t exactly lead to credibility, folks.

Sometimes the problem lies with the words we use to explain ourselves. Words sometimes have different meanings depending upon the context in which they are used. For example, suppose I say to you, "I'd love to own a Jaguar." If we're talking about luxury cars the meaning of my statement is obvious. On the other hand, if we're talking about exotic pets perhaps you would try to talk me out of such an idea being that I can barely keep a house plant alive. On the other, other hand, if I’m talking about luxury cars and you think we’re talking about exotic pets, this might as well be an episode of “Three’s Company.”*** You see, context can be used to manipulate words to create all kinds of puns, double entendres, or plain ol’ confusion for the unsuspecting. Frankly, it's amazing that any one knows what anyone else is talking about. Arnold sure didn't know what Willis*** was talkin' 'bout.

[*** Showing my age here, folks.]

What we could really use is a language in which one word meant one thing regardless of context. Until then there will be no suitable definition of God, which is no doubt a great relief to the believer. After all, this will mean that God cannot be shown whether to exist or not and faith can rush in to prop up a theists’ righteousness. At the same time, though, the theist faces the dilemma that despite all the faith in the world, all concepts of God should be considered equally valid since prove their point linguistically. Though the theist appeals to faith in hopes that they've picked the correct religion with the proper definition of God, they cannot disprove anyone else’s definition of a god. That’s a mighty big hurdle to clear. What the theist is not admitting here is that really, they're playing Russian roulette with God. Well, go right ahead and blow your brains out guys. It'll be your defining moment.

Utilitarianism vs Deontology

Having just read a chapter in The Best of Super Heroes and Philosophy titled “Why Doesn’t Batman Kill the Joker?” written by Mark White, I am prompted to revisit the apparent moral dilemma between consequences and taking certain actions. The chapter likens Batman’s moral dilemma not to kill his arch enemy to the well-known “trolley problem,” one of the more ingenious (in its simplicity) thought experiments in moral philosophy. When it comes to Batman’s dilemma, the Utilitarian view would contend that Batman should kill the Joker so that the least suffering and greatest happiness is achieved through such an action; by Batman killing the Joker, future lives will be saved. [While there is no guarantee the Joker will kill again after any given victim, his history indicates that he most likely will.] The other side of that coin is the Deontologist’s view that Batman should not kill the Joker because the act of killing is in and of itself wrong. Batman appears to agree and has long contended that killing villains would make him no better than them. As it relates to the trolley problem, a Deontologist would let the trolley take its course and kill five people (assuming nothing is known about the five potential victims versus the one potential victim on the other track) since there is nothing wrong with inaction.

It is with the Deontologist’s view that I cannot abide by, seeing how they try to make a distinction between action an inaction, a distinction I disagree with. In this case, the Deontologist would say that Batman cannot kill the Joker because killing is inherently wrong while not killing the Joker, though the Joker will likely kill again, alleviates Batman of responsibility for the Joker’s future victims. The Deontologist is contending that to take certain actions (such as killing) are wrong across the board while inaction (such as not killing a homicidal maniac) does not leave someone like Batman responsible for the consequences. But whether Batman does something or not, both are actions. Killing the Joker would be one action and going off and doing something other than killing the Joker is also an action, with ‘inaction’ being something of a misnomer. Unless one is dead it is impossible to take no actions. For Batman to take an action other than the action of killing the Joker is just as bad, if not worse, than killing the Joker since the sum total of all the Joker’s killings – which are inherently wrong on the Deontologist’s view – would be much more inherently wrong than Batman making a single exception to his rule about not killing criminals. The Deontologist may object here and say that each instance of killing is wrong and cannot be added together to arrive at a seemingly consequentialist conclusion, but such a defense is arbitrary; there is no objective evidence that prevents the wrongness of an action to become greater the more one does it. If the defense is arbitrary, it is tempting to look at the problem from a practical point of view since this is how people act in the real world: If I’m Batman and I know that if I don’t kill the Joker, countless lives will remain at risk. But if I kill the Joker, I could more ably live with one act of wrongness than letting the Joker continue his numerous acts of wrongness.

Of course, not killing the Joker may make Batman extremely happy, so happy in fact that he may think that he is actually being a Utilitarian. For if Batman were to become so distraught over killing the Joker he could not go on being Batman, this would ultimately cause the world a greater amount of suffering than if he were to kill the Joker. However, most of Batman’s enemies are nowhere near the level of homicidal mania the Joker displays, so for Batman to think in these kinds of Utilitarian terms appears to be a weak defense. (This view may also be downright egotistical considering there are so many other superheroes around, one of which you would think would kill the Joker. Where’s Marvel Comic’s The Punisher when you need him?) One way or another, Batman is going to wind up morally culpable for whatever the Joker does after the next time Batman refuses to kill him.

On a related note, the death penalty as it is practiced is institutionalized on Utilitarian grounds while those seeking to abolish the death penalty take the Deontologist’s position, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of a criminal’s wrongdoing and potential to be a grave threat to the general public. And again I would argue to not take certain actions against such a criminal would amount to such vast wrongness that the wrongness of a few applications of the death penalty pales in comparison. It’s akin to choosing the lesser of two evils. Sure, one will be wrong either way, but the Deontological position is ultimately worse than the Utilitarian position. In the trolley problem, passively allowing five people on the train tracks to die is five times worse than flipping a switch and intentionally killing one person. Not flipping the switch to kill one person is still an action, meaning one is still responsible for the results, intentions be damned. (Those who think intentions actually make a difference in these types of situations are those who subconsciously and overwhelming value an individual’s right to autonomy, which conveniently absolves one from helping in situations help could be given. Of course, it is not practical to provide help every time one could and we let Deontologists – and ourselves – off the hook on these grounds.)  

When given a choice in Batman’s situation between being a Utilitarian or a Deontologist, Batman should opt for killing the Joker, given that the Deontologist’s position is facetious. Yes, if you ever have the choice to be Batman, be Batman. Just remember that Utilitarianism requires you to kill the Joker.