Reb without a Cause: the antidote to absurdity

This is a story told to me by Jerry Shaffer:

A Rabbi, doing marriage counseling, listened to the wife and said, "You are right."

The husband said, "Wait, listen to me," and after listening, the Rabbi said, "You are right."

The Rabbi's wife, listening behind the screen, said, "Rabbi, they can't both be right!"

The Rabbi replied, "You are right too."

            This could just as well be a Zen story. And like one of those, I think it captures the essence of human existence. It’s not just a joke! (Although it is also possible to view human existence as a joke.) It contains a profound wisdom. I for one have come to take it literally: It could very well be that they are both right.

            And I don’t mean this to apply only to marital disputes, or even just human relations. For me it has become a guiding idea that all assertions of any kind (including 2 + 2 = 4) are both true and false. And this is equivalent to saying that x (any assertion) and -x (the denial of that assertion) are both true.

Moreover, I also see this as equivalent to there being no truth … if one conceives truth as something which cannot be (truthfully) contradicted.[1] (But you see, here too there could be a denial, since one might conceive truth differently, such that there could be incompatible truths.) I try therefore to avoid use of the term “true” or “truth” (and “false” etc.) and call my view the philosophy of yes and no. Thus: If someone asks me a question to which they anticipate a yes or no answer, I say, “yes and no.” And in each case the two contradictories can be justified, or I prefer to say simply explained, by reference to there being different senses of some key term or terms within the question. Thus my stock example: Do unicorns exist? No, if by “unicorn” you mean a horse with magical powers and a single horn on their forehead. But Yes, if by “unicorn” you mean simply an animal with a single horn on their forehead.

            My claim is that all yes-or-no questions have this dual kind of answer … even the most apparently factual, even the most “obviously” moral, and so on. For example:

Factual: Is Pluto a planet? No, if you accept the current definition of “planet” decided on by the International Astronomical Union. Yes, if you accept the definition of “planet” put forward by Alan Stern, the principal investigator of the New Horizons probe to Pluto.[2]

Moral: Here I hesitate even to put down an example, even though examples exist in abundance, since people tend to have heartfelt convictions about them. Indeed, every major moral question is precisely a question because it has strong advocates on both sides, all of whom consider their opponents to be not just mistaken but downright stupid or even evil … if they can be believed at all to hold such an absurd opinion! (Maybe Trumpers are just kidding? Maybe Putin lovers are completely brainwashed? Maybe Nazi lovers are just nuts? Maybe vegans are just fanatics? And so on without limit.)

            The practical upshot for me of holding this philosophy has been to shake my head or roll my eyes (if only my mental head or eyes) every time I hear someone make a bald assertion as if disagreement were impossible,[3] or pose a question as if – “of course” – there is an answer.

            However, please understand that my view also comes with a major proviso, which is that, even for someone like myself who is shaking their head or rolling their eyes, there can be and usually is a definite preference for one answer over another. And I see these preferences as just as motivationally powerful as the bald assertions … but without the gratuitous assumption that they contain incontrovertible factuality on their side. Indeed, my strong hunch is that the tail is wagging the dog when it comes to assertions: that is, it is not the belief that something is true that makes us prefer that answer but rather our preference for that answer that makes us believe it is true.[4]

To clarify: I am not suggesting that if you would “prefer” to have a million dollars you will therefore believe you have a million dollars. There are, I think, cases like that: belief in God and the afterlife is an obvious example (that Dostoevsky makes much of in The Brothers Karamazov precisely for this reason: that nothing but “faith” could sustain such a belief). But more generally I have in mind the subjectivity and psychology of belief. So for example, if you strongly believe that two apples and two pears = four pieces of fruit, my suggestion is that an irresistible feeling moves your mind to accept the conclusion. After all, someone might argue that they could cut one of the apples in half so that you would have five pieces of fruit. But this argument most likely would not move you to change your opinion (unless they did in fact cut the apple in half, at which point you might not know what to believe). Thus (i.e., that is the sense in which) I am calling your belief a preference.[5]

And I see an advantage to my view in its clear-eyed modesty or metaphysical minimalism, since it seems to me that it is precisely the adamancy with which one clings to a claim or belief that causes most of the damage from having strong preferences. Thus, I see here the best of both worlds: One can have strong motivations without absurdity and fanaticism. Simply detach the former from the metaphysical nonsense of truth.

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[1] That last can be called analetheism (or just “letheism” without the double negative).

[2] Actually the dispute is more complex than this (and this too is a totally common circumstance). For example, it can be and has certainly been argued that even by the IAU’s new definition, Pluto still counts as a planet.

[3] Indeed, assertions are conversation stoppers, and often intended as such. (“It’s the right thing to do.” Case closed.) On the other hand (yes and no) they can lead to endless debate. (“No it isn’t!”) This is why they are antithetical to the attitude I prefer, which is one of forever trying to understand rather than to “win.” (“Help me understand why you think, or what you mean by saying, it’s right.”)

[4] This has its analogue in the moral realm, where it implies a reversal of the presumed direction of moral dis/approval, from dis/liking something because it is bad/good to judging something to be bad/good because one dis/likes it. It is thus an empirical version of Socrates’ question to Euthyphro about piety and the gods: “The point which I should first wish to understand is whether the pious or holy is beloved by the gods because it is holy, or holy because it is beloved of the gods.” The second disjunct -- pious (or impious) because loved (or hated) by the gods -- is analogous to my position -- right (or wrong) because liked (or disliked) by the moralist. Thus my position is at odds with Socrates’ presumed preference for the first disjunct.

[5] Another issue is whether it makes any sense to suppose you could even believe something if you did not believe in truth … since what is belief if not the belief that something is true? But this objection does not move me to give up my position, since I have little doubt that there are alternative conceptions of belief that do not rely on truth. For example, if you were to ask someone who said they believed the Earth is round whether they thought it was true that the Earth is round, I can easily imagine their replying, “Truth is above my pay grade; all I know is that I believe it.”