Tag Archives: thought

Beliefs and Truth

I have now met the fourth person who has said that they don’t have beliefs.

Perhaps I am still stuck in a naive conception of truth that they have transcended. I still unconsciously assign beliefs to be axioms, as assumed truths upon which to base my inferences, and as such not having beliefs would seem impossible. Perhaps they have already achieved what I merely strive for: just living, just being the little perceptrons they are, already embodying the consequences of truth as a linguistic construction and not a fact of the world. They know that whether an idea is true is irrelevant — that there is nothing more than successful ideas being successful — and as such to “believe in” any truth is only to be enslaved by a clever, self-reinforcing idea: that ideas can be true.

This transcendence must have been achieved after many years of thought and meditation — we are perhaps even born clinging to truth as though it were unitary and absolute. Wars have been fought over is and is not, as if ignoring the evidence shining in their swords, both could not coexist. We have a deep genetic drive, because the uncertainty introduced in realizing the paradox of accessible truths is enough to delay a life-saving decision by a few milliseconds, and thus has been bred out of us. The option that there is a representational barrier between your perceptions and the world is not an option for the animal at the edge of survival. But perhaps there is a latent genetic drive toward the non-believer’s enlightened state after all — once you stop worrying about what is true, you can react faster, having closed the analytical gap between cause and effect. You are a wild animal, your thoughts having proregressed into instincts. Indeed, when time is of the essence, this idea could be more successful than the idea of truth — perhaps their meditation was to put themselves in life-threatening situations in which they needed to be lightningfast to survive.

They see the intimate connection between the words “belief” and “truth”. An idea must be able to be true in order to be believed. But they do not reject these words, for an idea must be able to be false to be rejected. The collusion of “belief” and “truth” makes them very hard to break out of: each reinforces the other. When it comes time to communicate, the non-believers see that language is built around truth, and one cannot communicate without presupposing it. So for them to communicate that they are not where you think they are, they must use a sentence which by its very utterance contradicts itself: “I do not have beliefs.”

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Relativism and Language

It is hard for me to imagine that so many people are so wrong. Sure, core beliefs go unexamined. Yes, we often unconsciously repeat taglines we have heard from those we respect instead of attempting to translate our true views. But I must admit I think of all people as essentially wanting to figure it out. Life, the universe, their meaning, how to make the world a better place. Some, who see the world as a competitive, dog-eat-dog place, want to figure it out because it will help them survive. Others, like me, who see the modern (Western — that is all I have direct experience with) world as an essentially benign place, just want to figure it out because of a innate curiosity (no doubt a result of past generations with the former motivation).

So when someone says something which strikes me as wrong, when I have the kneejerking impulse to correct them, this belief of mine kicks in and stops me. Oh my, it didn’t used to; I would happily correct the abundant wrongness in the world. After all, if people think the right way, they will do better for themselves and others. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have this belief, however, but it has taken a while to trickle its way into my choice of actions.

All through my youth, I was told that I was smart (a pedagogically questionable practice). I didn’t buy it (I’ve always had a rebellious streak). What makes me so special? I wasn’t just born with smartness, I thought. At first this manifested as an individualistic self-righteousness: I must be smart because of the intelligent ways I chose to spend my youth (what? Trampoline, video games, and Power Rangers?). More recently it has manifested as a skepticism of the views of those who tell me I am smart: you only say that because I am articulating things you agree with, so the compliment is a way of affirming your own worldview. Those both seem naive to me now. I don’t know what I currently think about it, I will probably only be able to articulate that once I move to some other view.

I am still skeptical of any innate superiority (however not enough so to avoid writing this post in a way that comes across as advice). So when I stop myself from correcting a wrongness, what do I do? This is the relativism I’ve been talking about.

Words don’t have meaning; in a conversation, the speaker translates meaning into words, and then the listener translates the words into meaning. We have a soft social agreement about how words are used, and that gives rise to trends in our patterns of thought. But the possibility remains — and I use the word possibility only because of a timidness, I really think of it more as a high probability — that the meanings that I have assigned to the words when I hear them are different from the meanings that were used to form them. Indeed, it is unclear what is even meant by two people having the same thought. My brain is not likely to have the ability to represent the thought that produced the words, especially if I disagree with them.

The exercise, then, is this: try to represent those thoughts anyway. How can I think of these words so that the sentence becomes true? Not just slightly less false, but really true. I might have to temporarily reorient my value system; I might have to imagine I grew up in a religious family; I might have to picture the scary possible worlds that might result if the statement were false (that is, beyond the proportion of the consequences I actually predict, already thinking the statement is false). When I remember to do this, I am brought to a calm, understanding level, with few fiery arguments in sight. My contributions to these conversations are transformed into questions instead of assertions — not Socratic “let me lead you to the right answer” questions, but genuine “I want to understand you” questions.

And that is the essence of relativism to me. What you mean by your words is not what I mean by your words. Sentences are uttered with the concept of their truth in mind, and before blasting forth a correction, I first have to understand how they are true. And more often than not, my planned correction is dismantled and replaced by a connected friendship.

I accidentally the verbs

The deep structure of language. Actions, volition; identity, unification. Not realities, but means of understanding the world. Nonsense of the truth of a statement from a determinist perspective. Agent action: volition. Agent action because: post-justification. This is that: the identity fallacy. Two different words; why not this is this or that is that?

A series of images related only implicitly. Richness of language, constraints of mathematics. No verbs, no propositional meaning. Unpresentable relationships for human meaning-makers. An intermittent failure of inserting verbs above. A question of the meaning of verbless sentences. VP-less sentences, to be precise (but still without propositional meaning).

Future eschewing of translations into propositions. A case for the mind to let go of the propositional obsession. The blurring associations between thoughts: associations, judgements, perception blocks. An underappreciated reverence of thoughts in their own right. An abstract picture, not a fact. A thought flying free in the mind. A thought bound to realism with a fact. Meditation and spaciousness in the mind. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis.

Nouns supplanting verbs as the foundational structure. NPs, to be precise. Potentially mismatching impedance between thoughts and nouns. The question of a freer correspondence between language and thought. Some thoughts have verbs. Mindful restriction, experimentation, like E-prime, to open new pathways in the mind. Now, thoughts of neither noun-ness nor verb-ness:

Vacuous.

Apparently not.

Graspingly anxious at the limits of an author’s imagination. Quotelike, fragmentlike. Descriptive, but without referent. As colors are to a blind man. Thought-Fourier-transform of. Just above decent into syntactic nonsense. Or just before thoughts of pure relationship.

of a normal verb-like sentence with

to the order of

beyond

That brings us back to nouns. A verbal thought.

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