Are You Sure?

Can we reason our way to certainty? To "Truth"? ...A philosophical question

Those of us with more than a passing interest in the psychedelic experience seem to have, in general, a wider range of interests than our "straight" contemporaries. This may well be a result of education, general disposition, historical accident, influence of family and friends and/or other factors we might easily suspect: factors that may well have predisposed us for actively seeking altered states of consciousness in the first place.

But perhaps the psychedelic experience, or what I call psychedelic training, itself encourages us to take an interest in new subjects, ideas, theories... to the extent that we then devote significant time and study to the new and often unusual. I believe this to be the case, that the psychedelic experience expands or amplifies one's perception of the salient: those ideas, situations, facts, perceptions... that are unusual in some sense, that are, in a word, interesting.

It is not just the psychedelic experience that can trigger the effect. Meditation and other "spiritual practices", even extreme sport and other activities diligently pursued, seem to work well for some. I have concluded that there is a common neuro-cognitive process underlying all such methods of "consciousness expansion" and self-transcendence. Thus it would be a grave error to see any such method as illegitimate. It is the destination that is important, much more so than the vehicle we choose to get there.

So, for whatever method we might find personally effective and rewarding, the goal for such undertakings would surely be, or include a desire for approaching and discovering what we believe to be truth. Not a theory-of-the-entire-universe kind of truth, but one that we each individually are comfortable with, a truth that neverthless can evolve and mature, a truth that is our own yet which rightfully seems to have a more universal applicability than the merely personal.

And so, a little philosophical quest for you all, with an excerpt from a book that has impressed me greatly.

The gods did not reveal, from the beginning,

All things to us, but in the course of time

Through seeking we may learn and know things better.

But as for certain truth, no man has known it,

Nor shall he know it, neither of the gods

Nor yet of all the things of which I speak.

For even if by chance he were to utter

The final truth, he would himself not know it:

For all is but a woven web of guesses.

—Xenophanes

Does our capacity for reasoning allow us to arrive at certainty? At "Truth"? Xenophanes seems to think not. It is philosophical question that may be more important than at first sight. One must ask, of course, whether Xenophanes had inside information that would make his claim immune to the claim's conclusion!

Below I have provided an excerpt from a book by Thomas Nagel that discusses this question in depth. Some would say, to exhaustion, either of the question itself, or the reader's ability to sustain his interest in philosophical arguments! True, philosophical writings are often experienced as long-winded, abstruse, impenetrable... even by some philosophers. This perceived incomprehensibility might well lead some to take Bertrand Russel's quip seriously:

The point of philosophy is to start with something so simple as to seem not worth stating, and to end with something so paradoxical that no one will believe it.

...and dismiss philosophical questions as of interest only to those who do rather too much thinking.

So what of it, then? Should a man-in-the-street be interested in this question, and above all someone who practices one or more special pathways to personal whatever-it-is, should we consider this question as one of special interest, even just a little bit? And in the case of readers here who are, by virtue of having subscribed to a substack overtly concerned with psychedelic experience, is the question perhaps of utmost importance?

If one takes a side on the question an interesting paradox arises. If one is convinced that absolute knowledge is impossible, that all knowledge is relative, culture-oriented, or dependent on one's own largely invisible set of prejudices, how can that view also be not merely relative? The question calls itself into question! If on the other hand one accepts that reasoning leads to the view that absolute truth does indeed exist, even though an example of such may seem hard to find...

Well, I will let Pr. Nagel lead you into this subject below, the read is "essential" - meaning not only something that one may see as necessary, but also of the essence, something profoundly basic upon which much more rests.

And this particular question is very old indeed: I doubt that one could get a degree in philosophy without having pronounced a great many paragraphs on the topic himself. Or, at least a few lines:

An excerpt from The Last Word by Thomas Nagel

Oxford University Press; 1st edition (November 1, 2001)

[Excerpt posted without permission for non-profit educational purposes - don’t you dare buy me a coffee this time]

INTRODUCTION

I.

This discussion will be concerned with an issue that runs through practically every area of inquiry and that has even invaded the general culture—the issue of where understanding and justification come to an end. Do they come to an end with objective principles whose validity is independent of our point of view, or do they come to an end within our point of view—individual or shared—so that ultimately, even the apparently most objective and universal principles derive their validity or authority from the perspective and practice of those who follow them? My aim is to clarify and explore this question and to try, for certain domains of thought, to defend what I shall call a rationalist answer against what I shall call a subjectivist one. The issue, in a nutshell, is whether the first person, singular or plural, is hiding at the bottom of everything we say or think.

Reason, if there is such a thing, can serve as a court of appeal not only against the received opinions and habits of our community but also against the peculiarities of our personal perspective. It is something each individual can find within himself, but at the same time it has universal authority. Reason provides, mysteriously, a way of distancing oneself from common opinion and received practices that is not a mere elevation of individuality—not a determination to express one’s idiosyncratic self rather than go along with everyone else. Whoever appeals to reason purports to discover a source of authority within himself that is not merely personal, or societal, but universal—and that should also persuade others who are willing to listen to it.

If this description sounds Cartesian or even Platonic, that is no accident: The topic may be ancient and well-worn, but it is fully alive today, partly because of the prevalence of various forms of what I (but not, usually, its proponents) would call skepticism about reason, either in general or in some of its instances. A vulgar version of this skepticism is epidemic in the weaker regions of our culture, but it receives some serious philosophical support as well. I am prompted to this inquiry partly by the ambient climate of irrationalism but also by not really knowing what more to say after irrationalism has been rejected as incoherent—for there is a real problem about how such a thing as reason is possible. How is it possible that creatures like ourselves, supplied with the contingent capacities of a biological species whose very existence appears to be radically accidental, should have access to universally valid methods of objective thought? [bold text mine] It is because this question seems unanswerable that sophisticated forms of subjectivism keep appearing in the philosophical literature, but I think they are no more viable than “crude” subjectivism.¹

To begin with the crude kind: The relativistic qualifier— “for me” or “for us”—has become almost a reflex, and with some vaguely philosophical support, it is often generalized into an interpretation of most deep disagreements of belief or method as due to different frames of reference, forms of thought or practice, or forms of life, between which there is no objective way of judging but only a contest for power. (The idea that everything is “constructed” belongs to the same family.) Since all justifications come to an end with what the people who accept them find acceptable and not in need of further justification, no conclusion, it is thought, can claim validity beyond the community whose acceptance validates it.

The idea of reason, by contrast, refers to nonlocal and nonrelative methods of justification—methods that distinguish universally legitimate from illegitimate inferences and that aim at reaching the truth in a nonrelative sense. Those methods may fail, but that is their aim, and rational justifications, even if they come to an end somewhere, cannot end with the qualifier “for me” if they are to make that claim.

The essential characteristic of reasoning is its generality. If I have reasons to conclude or to believe or to want or to do something, they cannot be reasons just for me—they would have to justify anyone else doing the same in my place. This leaves open what it is for someone else to be “in my place.” But any claim that what is a reason for me is not a reason for someone else to draw the same conclusion must be backed up by further reasons, to show that this apparent deviation from generality can be accounted for in terms that are themselves general. The generality of reasons means that they apply not only in identical circumstances but also in relevantly similar circumstances—and that what counts as a relevant similarity or difference can be explained by reasons of the same generality. Ideally, the aim is to arrive at principles that are universal and exceptionless.

To reason is to think systematically in ways anyone looking over my shoulder ought to be able to recognize as correct. It is this generality that relativists and subjectivists deny. Even when they introduce a simulacrum of it in the form of a condition of consensus among a linguistic or scientific or political community, it is the wrong kind of generality—since at its outer bounds it is statistical, not rational.

The worst of it is that subjectivism is not just an inconsequential intellectual flourish or badge of theoretical chic. It is used to deflect argument, or to belittle the pretensions of the

arguments of others. Claims that something is without relativistic qualification true or false, right or wrong, good or bad, risk being derided as expressions of a parochial perspective or form of life—not as a preliminary to showing that they are mistaken whereas something else is right, but as a way of showing that nothing is right and that instead we are all expressing our personal or cultural points of view. The actual result has been a growth in the already extreme intellectual laziness of contemporary culture and the collapse of serious argument throughout the lower reaches of the humanities and social sciences, together with a refusal to take seriously, as anything other than first-person avowals, the objective arguments of others. [bold text mine] I am not going to address myself directly to the manifestations of this attitude, but it is there as a source of irritation in the background—though I don’t seriously hope that work on the question of how reason is possible will make relativism any less fashionable.

Many forms of relativism and subjectivism collapse into either self-contradiction or vacuity—self-contradiction because they end up claiming that nothing is the case, or vacuity because they boil down to the assertion that anything we say or believe is something we say or believe. I think that all general and most restricted forms of subjectivism that do not fail in either of these ways are pretty clearly false.

My own opinion is that there is such a thing, or category of thought, as reason, and that it applies in both theory and practice, in the formation not only of beliefs but of desires, intentions, and decisions as well. This is not to say that reason is a single thing in every case, only that certain decisive aspects of our thought about such very different matters can all be regarded as instances of it, by virtue of their generality and their position in the hierarchy of justification and criticism. I shall refer to this as the rationalist position. My aim will be to see whether it can be given a plausible form. How can one reconcile the unqualified character of the results at which we aim by reasoning with the fact that it is just something we do?

Every major philosopher has had something to say about this. My own sympathies are with Descartes and Frege, and I will attempt to resist the limitation of the reach of human reason that is found in different ways in the treatments of Hume, Kant, and, on a common reading, Wittgenstein. More recently, versions of it are found in W. V. Quine, Nelson Goodman, Hilary Putnam, Bernard Williams, and Richard Rorty. These forms of subjectivism shrink from the apparently audacious pretensions of human thought and tend to collapse its content into its grounds, so that it doesn’t reach as far beyond us as it appears to do. For the most part, I shall be arguing not against the positions of particular philosophers but against a general tendency to reduce the objective pretensions of reason, a tendency that manifests itself in many philosophical arguments—vulgar and sophisticated—and that is a constant temptation to those trying to make sense of the phenomenon. The position I oppose will be this form of subjectivism as I interpret its allure—a position which can sometimes seem the only possible account of the subject, given that we are who we are, but which I believe cannot be rendered intelligible.

II

We must distinguish between general philosophical challenges to the objectivity of reason and ordinary challenges to particular examples of reasoning that do not call reason into question. In order to have the authority it claims, reason must be a form or category of thought from which there is no appeal beyond itself—whose validity is unconditional because it is necessarily employed in every purported challenge to itself. This does not mean that there is no appeal against the results of any particular exercise of reason, since it is easy to make mistakes in reasoning or to be completely at sea about what conclusions it permits us to draw. But the corrections or doubts must come from further applications of reason itself. We can therefore distinguish between criticisms of reasoning and challenges to reason.

If reasoning is what has been going on, then criticism of its results must reveal mistakes in reasoning, where these, too, are universally mistakes. Whenever we challenge a conclusion by pointing out a mistake in someone’s arithmetic, or logic, or their failure to consider a possibility that is not ruled out by the evidence, or the disanalogy between two cases that have been lumped together, we remain within the territory of rational justification and criticism and do not cast doubt on whether our interlocutor is employing a generally valid method for reaching the objective truth. This internal type of criticism and evaluation imports nothing subjective.

There is an external form of criticism, on the other hand, which undermines the conclusion precisely by questioning the objectivity of its grounds. One important way of challenging from outside what is presented as a product of reason is to claim that it is not the result of reasoning at all, valid or invalid, but rather something else: the expression of a particular personal or cultural perspective of less than universal validity, perhaps artificially rationalized or objectified in an act of intellectual self-deception. Sometimes one can challenge a particular piece of ostensible reasoning in this way without implying any doubt that reason of that type is possible. The ordinary charge of “rationalization,” like the exposure of errors in reasoning, does not question the claims of reason itself but rather presupposes them. It contrasts the sources of belief in this case with an alternative type of ground that would actually justify them, or demonstrate their truth.

But this type of diagnosis can also take a more general form and can be used to make a philosophical point. Depending on the case, the criticism may aim either to discredit the putative rationally based claim altogether, or merely to show that it is something different, less universal but conceivably better founded than it would be under its rationalistic interpretation. If the aim is to show that reasoning is the wrong method for arriving at or backing up conclusions of the kind under discussion, then one would not describe the use of the correct, alternative method as a rationalization but would instead argue that calling it reason is a misinterpretation. This last strategy often plays a role in the attack on reason as part of the basis of ethics, when the aim is not to debunk ethics but to reveal its true grounds.²

On the other hand (to complete the spectrum of possibilities), such diagnoses can sometimes be offered neither as criticisms nor as alternatives but as reductive interpretations of what reason really is—namely, a contingent though basic feature of a particular culture or form of life. The usual set of moves among realism, skepticism, and reductionism occurs here as everywhere in philosophy: Reductionism (a subjective or relativist reinterpretation of reason) seems to offer a refuge from skepticism if realism (the strongly universalist position) seems too hard to sustain.³ Being a realist about reason myself, I regard these reductive “rescues” as equivalent to skepticism; that is, they are forms of skepticism about the reality of what I myself take reason to be. Their proponents would describe them differently—as denials that my understanding of the nature of reason is correct.

Whether they are frankly skeptical or accommodatingly reductive, these sorts of diagnoses challenge the strongly rationalistic—Platonic or Cartesian—ideal. They may be directed either at a particular category of claim, such as legal or ethical or scientific reason, or they may be more general. A further distinction, of greater theoretical interest, has to do with the type of diagnosis such criticisms offer of what is really going on under the heading of reason. Reason purports to offer a method of transcending both the merely social and the merely personal. And a critic of the rationalist conception, believing such double transcendence to be impossible, may say either that what is being appealed to is really an aspect of the shared practices of one’s social, intellectual, or moral community (perhaps a particularly deep aspect) or that it is a deep but nevertheless individual feature of one’s personal responses. In either case the claim to unconditional universal authority would be unfounded.

As I have said, such criticisms can be offered in a rationalistic framework. Then one will merely be pointing out that this particular allegedly rational justification of a conclusion does not in fact work, while assuming that such things are certainly possible. The same applies when the target is gradually broadened. Even someone who is doubtful about the claim to rationality in an entire domain of thought can continue to accord validity to the claim more generally and can even rely on it in the course of his criticism. But I want also to discuss the problem posed by the broadest type of attack: by the position that no faculty of such universal application and validity could be found within us to test and support our judgments.

I shall argue that while it is certainly possible in many cases to discredit appeals to the objectivity of reason by showing that their true sources lie elsewhere—in wishes, prejudices, contingent and local habits, unexamined assumptions, social or linguistic conventions, involuntary human responses, and so on—interpretations of this “perspectival” or “parochial” kind will inevitably run out sooner or later. Whether one challenges the rational credentials of a particular judgment or of a whole realm of discourse, one has to rely at some level on judgments and methods of argument which one believes are not themselves subject to the same challenge: which exemplify, even when they err, something more fundamental, and which can be corrected only by further procedures of the same kind.

Yet it is obscure how that is possible: Both the existence and the nonexistence of reason present problems of intelligibility. To be rational we have to take responsibility for our thoughts while denying that they are just expressions of our point of view. The difficulty is to form a conception of ourselves that makes sense of this claim.

1. In general, I’ll use the term “subjectivism” rather than “skepticism,” to avoid confusion with the kind of epistemological skepticism that actually relies on the objectivity of reason, rather than challenging it.

2. See, for example, Philippa Foot, “Morality as a System of Hypothetical Imperatives” (1972), reprinted in her collection Virtues and Vices (Black- well, 1978), and Bernard Williams, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy (Harvard University Press, 1985).

3. I discuss this triangle in The View from Nowhere (Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 68-9.