nosho
Thinker
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2006
- Messages
- 179
Based on my limited experiences here, I expect this thread to die a quick and mostly unremarkable death of quiet dismissal, punctuated, perhaps, by a few posts that will build on these ideas, as well as by posts laced with jabs that will have the effect of poisoning rational discussion rather than nurturing it. This might be followed by tedium, then surely by silence, so that the original point will become obscured and then lost altogether. It's going to happen. Watch. And smile.
This is intended only for the handful of individuals who might find these insights useful. This is for you, the true skeptics, those with the courage and humility to turn the intensely focused instrument of skepticism inward and know the coarse layers with which we protect the ego.
You know you you are.
---
This approach to inquiry that we call "skepticism" can be a wonderful instrument. At its core is a noble intention, namely, to try to observe reality as it is, to dispel delusion, to reach out for truth.
It seems to me that problems arise when these pure aims of skepticism are muddied with other agendas, mostly ego-driven agendas, such as to protect one's cherished point of view, or to build oneself up by focusing on someone else's perceived shortcomings.
I think these problems arise in part because we fail to understand or acknowledge that this instrument we call "skepticism" is subject to many fine adjustments. It is not a simple, monolithic thing. It's an aggregate made up of many components. We can think of these components as knobs or dials that we use to adjust our instrument of skepticism. Some of those dials include:
Pressure. This is the degree to which one believes or disbelieves. For example, many skeptics approach the notion of god with a certain measure of disbelief. But it's also possible to imagine subjects that one can approach with less overt disbelief. It's also possible to imagine subjects we might approach with a certain level of provisional belief, but to which we wish to apply skeptical criticism out of a sense of self honesty. We dial the pressure gauge up and down along a continuum that ranges from total non-acceptance to provisional disbelief, to provisional belief, to total acceptance. The midpoint along this continuum is a state of neither belief nor disbelief, a detachment with regard to belief. In some cases, it might seem impossible for us to control whether or not we believe.
Clarity. The degree to which one hopes for truth. Does one hope to reach a conclusion that supports expectations? Is there a reluctance to let go of preconceived notions? Does one's inquiry contain a hint of hostility toward the subject of inquiry? Even overt hostility? Is there an agenda? When we have an agenda, our skepticism is clouded by our own ego, and clarity is low. We can dial up the clarity of our skepticism by loosening our grip on what we hope is true, and by disengaging from ego issues and ego attacks, which appear in abundance in Randi's commentary and here in the forum.
Intensity. The degree to which one wants to subject something to scrutiny. Is the subject a belief one would rather not examine? Or something too trivial or unimportant to consider? Is our heart really in it? Some things naturally seem to demand little or no skepticism. But this is always a judgment call, and we dial the intensity of our skepticism up and down by personal choice and preference. At maximum intensity, skepticism might resemble paranoia. At minimum intensity, skepticism is watered down with credulity.
Scope. The degree to which one believes skepticism is appropriate for a given subject. We do not apply skepticism to absolutely everything. Some things we choose to accept, because they appear to be most likely credible. But this also is always a judgment call. We have to recognize that before we even begin to use our instrument of skepticism, we first make a personal judgment about whether the subject falls within the scope of what we believe constitutes an area that warrants skepticism.
Saturation. The degree to which we thoroughly explore a subject. Do we give it a light consideration and then dismiss it? Or do we look deeply, with care, with true interest? Do we respect the subject enough to exert our most honest effort? Or do we do a half-hearted job? Do we follow through? On subjects that affect our ego, we might choose to set the saturation level very low. Maybe in the past, we have told close friends that anyone who practices yoga is an idiot. So now, as we hear more about the benefits of yoga, our skepticism might be quick and curt, because we have dialed down the saturation level as a method of protecting our own ego. A low saturation setting often results in straw-man attacks.
There undoubtedly are many more dials we use to adjust our skepticism. Some are within our control, and others might not seem to be. If we do not recognize how the quality of skepticism is affected by how we choose to set these dials, then we are not using our tool of "skepticism" wisely or effectively, and the result may be the opposite of the pure aims at the core of true skepticism.
In particular, "skepticism" may become a kind of armor we use to protect our ego, and a kind of weapon we use to jab at people who seem to threaten our ego. We call what we do "skepticism," and we dress it up with some of the trappings of skeptical criticism, but the dials are set all wrong.
Like when we use the term "woo." That term is a form of pseudospeciation. It's a purely ego-driven term, and when we use it, it's a sign that our "clarity" dial is set on "low." It's a sign that we do not hope for truth as much as we hope for something else, a certain sense of standing on solid ground, a certain confidence in knowing better than others. We're in the process of building ourselves up, congratulating ourselves, putting others in their place. When we become aware that we are caught in that pattern, we should examine where the "clarity" dial is set.
The concept of god is often the spark that prompts us to set our dials all wrong. I've seen it happen. Pressure goes way up, either one way or the other. Clarity bottoms out. Saturation becomes minimal, and straw flies.
There's a simple reason for this: Any concept of god is also a concept of oneself. When we see a concept of god that appears to be an abomination, we want to reject it, because it does not reflect who we are at the core.
Hypothetically, let's pretend for a moment that there is some "thing" beyond our experiences and ideas but simultaneously at the very core of our being, some "thing" that is the very source of who we are, some "thing" that we also share in common with everybody else. But "thing" is not even the right word, because it's not a thing. Or, more precisely, it's neither a "thing" nor not a "thing." Just pretend for a moment. It's at your core. And it's at the core of everyone else. And we all share it.
Imagine that people have no idea how to talk about this "thing." Imagine that it's beyond our skills of language to describe adequately. Some people might call it "god." Others might call it self, or non-self, or nirvana, or noumenon, or love.
Imagine that this "thing" is not something that can be measured, or even defined with language. But imagine that it is in fact something that can be touched within oneself. Imagine that direct experience is possible. And imagine that authentic self-knowledge is not truly possible otherwise.
Imagine that there is evidence for this "thing," but the only way to find it is in oneself. A personal experience of this "thing" will never be scientific proof for anyone but oneself. But imagine that such an experience is, in fact, possible and real, not just imaginary.
That's the hypothesis. Now apply skepticism to it.
One problem in doing so is that if the dials of our skepticism are set inappropriately, we will never, never be able to explore for ourselves whether this "thing," whatever we call it, is real.
In particular, if the "pressure" setting on our instrument of skepticism is not set at the midpoint, at a state of neither belief nor disbelief, we may find it extremely difficult to make an honest exploration. Athiesm can be a reflection of this kind of obstacle. For some people, athiesm means the pressure dial on their tool of skepticism is set in such a way as to rob skepticism of its effectiveness.
And agnosticism, the notion that we do not have the capacity to know whether god exists, can signal that we should examine our "scope" dial or our "saturation" dial.
These two orientations, atheism and agnosticism, do not stem from skepticism. Rather, they inform our skepticism. There is the notion that rather than asking whether god exists, one should ask how best to serve god. If one cannot answer that question truthfully for oneself, the idea goes, then god indeed does not exist. This is another way of refocusing our attention, of looking deeply into oneself, to see what's really there, to find our core.
So this is my critique of skepticism. Too often, we use it as an armor around our ego, and ill-executed skepticism becomes a real hinderance along the path. This means the dials are set wrong. When we become aware of such patterns, we can turn it to our advantage, focusing our skepticism inward, on oneself.
Peace.
This is intended only for the handful of individuals who might find these insights useful. This is for you, the true skeptics, those with the courage and humility to turn the intensely focused instrument of skepticism inward and know the coarse layers with which we protect the ego.
You know you you are.
---
This approach to inquiry that we call "skepticism" can be a wonderful instrument. At its core is a noble intention, namely, to try to observe reality as it is, to dispel delusion, to reach out for truth.
It seems to me that problems arise when these pure aims of skepticism are muddied with other agendas, mostly ego-driven agendas, such as to protect one's cherished point of view, or to build oneself up by focusing on someone else's perceived shortcomings.
I think these problems arise in part because we fail to understand or acknowledge that this instrument we call "skepticism" is subject to many fine adjustments. It is not a simple, monolithic thing. It's an aggregate made up of many components. We can think of these components as knobs or dials that we use to adjust our instrument of skepticism. Some of those dials include:
Pressure. This is the degree to which one believes or disbelieves. For example, many skeptics approach the notion of god with a certain measure of disbelief. But it's also possible to imagine subjects that one can approach with less overt disbelief. It's also possible to imagine subjects we might approach with a certain level of provisional belief, but to which we wish to apply skeptical criticism out of a sense of self honesty. We dial the pressure gauge up and down along a continuum that ranges from total non-acceptance to provisional disbelief, to provisional belief, to total acceptance. The midpoint along this continuum is a state of neither belief nor disbelief, a detachment with regard to belief. In some cases, it might seem impossible for us to control whether or not we believe.
Clarity. The degree to which one hopes for truth. Does one hope to reach a conclusion that supports expectations? Is there a reluctance to let go of preconceived notions? Does one's inquiry contain a hint of hostility toward the subject of inquiry? Even overt hostility? Is there an agenda? When we have an agenda, our skepticism is clouded by our own ego, and clarity is low. We can dial up the clarity of our skepticism by loosening our grip on what we hope is true, and by disengaging from ego issues and ego attacks, which appear in abundance in Randi's commentary and here in the forum.
Intensity. The degree to which one wants to subject something to scrutiny. Is the subject a belief one would rather not examine? Or something too trivial or unimportant to consider? Is our heart really in it? Some things naturally seem to demand little or no skepticism. But this is always a judgment call, and we dial the intensity of our skepticism up and down by personal choice and preference. At maximum intensity, skepticism might resemble paranoia. At minimum intensity, skepticism is watered down with credulity.
Scope. The degree to which one believes skepticism is appropriate for a given subject. We do not apply skepticism to absolutely everything. Some things we choose to accept, because they appear to be most likely credible. But this also is always a judgment call. We have to recognize that before we even begin to use our instrument of skepticism, we first make a personal judgment about whether the subject falls within the scope of what we believe constitutes an area that warrants skepticism.
Saturation. The degree to which we thoroughly explore a subject. Do we give it a light consideration and then dismiss it? Or do we look deeply, with care, with true interest? Do we respect the subject enough to exert our most honest effort? Or do we do a half-hearted job? Do we follow through? On subjects that affect our ego, we might choose to set the saturation level very low. Maybe in the past, we have told close friends that anyone who practices yoga is an idiot. So now, as we hear more about the benefits of yoga, our skepticism might be quick and curt, because we have dialed down the saturation level as a method of protecting our own ego. A low saturation setting often results in straw-man attacks.
There undoubtedly are many more dials we use to adjust our skepticism. Some are within our control, and others might not seem to be. If we do not recognize how the quality of skepticism is affected by how we choose to set these dials, then we are not using our tool of "skepticism" wisely or effectively, and the result may be the opposite of the pure aims at the core of true skepticism.
In particular, "skepticism" may become a kind of armor we use to protect our ego, and a kind of weapon we use to jab at people who seem to threaten our ego. We call what we do "skepticism," and we dress it up with some of the trappings of skeptical criticism, but the dials are set all wrong.
Like when we use the term "woo." That term is a form of pseudospeciation. It's a purely ego-driven term, and when we use it, it's a sign that our "clarity" dial is set on "low." It's a sign that we do not hope for truth as much as we hope for something else, a certain sense of standing on solid ground, a certain confidence in knowing better than others. We're in the process of building ourselves up, congratulating ourselves, putting others in their place. When we become aware that we are caught in that pattern, we should examine where the "clarity" dial is set.
The concept of god is often the spark that prompts us to set our dials all wrong. I've seen it happen. Pressure goes way up, either one way or the other. Clarity bottoms out. Saturation becomes minimal, and straw flies.
There's a simple reason for this: Any concept of god is also a concept of oneself. When we see a concept of god that appears to be an abomination, we want to reject it, because it does not reflect who we are at the core.
Hypothetically, let's pretend for a moment that there is some "thing" beyond our experiences and ideas but simultaneously at the very core of our being, some "thing" that is the very source of who we are, some "thing" that we also share in common with everybody else. But "thing" is not even the right word, because it's not a thing. Or, more precisely, it's neither a "thing" nor not a "thing." Just pretend for a moment. It's at your core. And it's at the core of everyone else. And we all share it.
Imagine that people have no idea how to talk about this "thing." Imagine that it's beyond our skills of language to describe adequately. Some people might call it "god." Others might call it self, or non-self, or nirvana, or noumenon, or love.
Imagine that this "thing" is not something that can be measured, or even defined with language. But imagine that it is in fact something that can be touched within oneself. Imagine that direct experience is possible. And imagine that authentic self-knowledge is not truly possible otherwise.
Imagine that there is evidence for this "thing," but the only way to find it is in oneself. A personal experience of this "thing" will never be scientific proof for anyone but oneself. But imagine that such an experience is, in fact, possible and real, not just imaginary.
That's the hypothesis. Now apply skepticism to it.
One problem in doing so is that if the dials of our skepticism are set inappropriately, we will never, never be able to explore for ourselves whether this "thing," whatever we call it, is real.
In particular, if the "pressure" setting on our instrument of skepticism is not set at the midpoint, at a state of neither belief nor disbelief, we may find it extremely difficult to make an honest exploration. Athiesm can be a reflection of this kind of obstacle. For some people, athiesm means the pressure dial on their tool of skepticism is set in such a way as to rob skepticism of its effectiveness.
And agnosticism, the notion that we do not have the capacity to know whether god exists, can signal that we should examine our "scope" dial or our "saturation" dial.
These two orientations, atheism and agnosticism, do not stem from skepticism. Rather, they inform our skepticism. There is the notion that rather than asking whether god exists, one should ask how best to serve god. If one cannot answer that question truthfully for oneself, the idea goes, then god indeed does not exist. This is another way of refocusing our attention, of looking deeply into oneself, to see what's really there, to find our core.
So this is my critique of skepticism. Too often, we use it as an armor around our ego, and ill-executed skepticism becomes a real hinderance along the path. This means the dials are set wrong. When we become aware of such patterns, we can turn it to our advantage, focusing our skepticism inward, on oneself.
Peace.
