The idea seems to be that we start with every possible belief.
A, ~A, B, ~B, C, ~C... — Banno
Yes, but an important thing is that some beliefs are about the relations between other beliefs. If C = "A implies B", then you can rule out the possibility of belief D = "A and ~B and C". You still don't know whether C, and if C, whether A or ~B, but you know for sure that ~D.
The obvious thing to do is to take on board Popper's grand conjecture; take something as true - anything - and then see if you can disprove it. — Banno
Yes, that's the idea.
The trouble is, if you are going to show that the grand conjecture is false, you are going to need something that is both incompatible with that conjecture, and true... — Banno
No, you only need to show that the grand conjecture contains inconsistencies.
I gave this example in the other thread but I'll repeat it here. Say it seems to you that doing a certain dance causes it to rain. Why it seems like that to you isn't important, that's just your "grand conjecture", it's the possibility out of the infinite possibilities that you've initially picked for whatever non-rational reason. Then one day you think you did the dance, at least you sure tried to, but then it doesn't seem to rain, at least not like you expected it to. So now it seems to you that A implies B, but also that A and ~B, which aren't possible together. So you have to revise your beliefs somehow or another.
You could just reject that A implies B: give up the theory that dancing causes it to rain. (But you don't have to, and actual sophisticated Popperian falsification never said that you do have to; you're arguing against the strawman of
dogmatic falsificationism).
You could instead reject that ~B: insist that it did rain in a way consistent with the rain dance theory, but for some reason it just didn't seem to rain to you.
Or you could instead reject that A: figure that you must have done the dance wrong somehow.
In any of those cases, you're also going to have to rearrange the rest of your beliefs somehow or another to accommodate whichever of those you chose to revise. There's going to be many, many ways you could revise the rest of your beliefs to accommodate any of those. But somehow or another, you've got to change something, on pain of inconsistency, since you can't consistently believe that dancing makes it rain, you danced, and it didn't rain.
Your process isn't 'sorting beliefs'. It's pointing out that you ought to do some choosing between those that are contradictory. — Isaac
I think this highlights a possible source of confusion between us here. When I'm speaking of sorting beliefs, I'm speaking of sorting between entire systems of belief, not merely between atomic propositions. You can always save some atomic proposition by sacrificing others instead, but every time something seems to happen contrary to what your complete system of belief says should happen, you've got to make some change or another to your complete system of belief, and the repetition of that gradually sorts out subsets of the set of possible systems of belief.
Repeating it doesn't just make the counter-arguments go away. Lack of proof is not the starting point. It is neurologically impossible to derive a belief without proof and extremely difficult (read impossible for all but the severely mentally ill) to maintain one contrary to all proof. — Isaac
I think you're confusing me with
@Philosophim here, and also conflating "proof" with "suggestion".
It was Philosophim who was saying that you could come to some belief completely at random, and I agree with your criticism of that (as did he, in the end). I'm not saying everyone starts out with a blank mind. We start out with some ideas or others about how things are, but those ideas aren't proven yet (and that's fine), they're just our intuitive impressions of things, and different people may have different intuitive impressions of the same things (and that's fine).
What I'm saying is that by default, none of those differing intuitions has the burden of proof against the other; they're all equally fine interpretations of the limited available information, so long as they have all accounted for the same available information, and it's not until new information can be found to rule one or another out that there's any epistemological difference between them.
Thus one can never in any way positively confirm any beliefs to be true — Pfhorrest
I don't think that's shown, or right. — Kenosha Kid
Finally, someone comments on what I expected to be the controversial aspect of this (the "liberal" part), and not the boring generally uncontroversial aspect of it (the "critical" part).
If I believe Jon has blonde hair, I can positively affirm this. — Kenosha Kid
Can you really though? I mean, pragmatically speaking, in an ordinary sense, sure you can: you can look at Jon and see his hair is blonde. But in a technical sense, in the way Banno and Isaac are on about, it's always possible to instead revise a bunch of other beliefs to account for why it seems to you like Jon has blonde hair but somehow he really doesn't.
For this reason, I prefer a default position of scepticism for want of a good cause to entertain the idea. — Kenosha Kid
There are two kinds of skepticism to distinguish here. I am completely supportive of one of them, the kind I call "criticism" (whereby it is possible to show reason to reject a belief), which Banno and Isaac are arguing against; but the other, which I call "cynicism" (whereby it is necessary to reject any belief until reason is shown to accept it), is what I'm arguing against, and which you seem to be arguing for here.
The most archetypical kind of cynicism, in this sense, is justificationism, of which most theories of knowledge are a form, though usually only tacitly, without their proponents realizing it. Justificationism is just the position that rationality means only holding opinions when you have reason to hold them.
But a famous trilemma, known by various names such as Agrippa's Trilemma or Munchausen's Tremma, illustrates how this principle leads directly to cynicism in the sense I mean here, or else to something tantamount to fideism (the rejection of what I call "criticism") instead. For any reason put forth in support of some opinion is itself another opinion, for which the justificationist must then, if consistent with this principle, demand yet another reason. But that in turn will be some other opinion, for which the same demand for justification must be made. And so forth ad infinitum. This can only lead to one of three outcomes:
- The most typical one is foundationalism. This abandons the principle of justification at some point by declaring some step of the regress of demands for justification to be self-evident, beyond question, without need of further support. That is transparently tantamount to fideism. Nevertheless, as I will soon explain, I have sympathy for the need to hold some opinions without them being rigorously supported from the ground up. I simply reject holding them to thus be unquestionable.
- Another possible outcome is coherentism. This appeals at some point to an earlier step in that regress as support for a later one, establishing a circular chain of reasons that together can then support other reasons. I am sympathetic to the coherency criterion employed here, as surely all of one's opinions must be consistent with each other, and finding inconsistencies is a good reason to rule out some opinions. But while that is a necessary feature, I think it is not a sufficient one: mere consistency is not enough to justify opinions in the sense demanded by justificationism, without again falling to fideism. For as that whole circular chain of reasons is then collectively unsupported and held as needing no further support besides itself, it is then, as a whole, tantamount to one big foundational, and therefore fideist, opinion.
- The last possible outcome, and the most honest application of justificationism (in that it never breaks from the demand for reasons, to hide instead in fideism), is infinitism. This accepts the infinite regress of demands for justification, leaving the initial opinion, any and every initial opinion looking to be supported, forever insufficiently supported. That leaves one unwarranted in holding any opinion, and so is transparently tantamount to nihilism. Self-avowed infinitists do at least nominally hold that knowledge is still possible, and therefore conclude that it must somehow be possible to have an infinite chain of justification, even while acknowledging that it would be impossible for anyone to ever complete one in practice. While I am again sympathetic to this unending search for deeper and deeper principles to underlie our opinions, as I will soon elaborate, this infinitist position seems to me simply incoherent when framed as a form of justificationism: if you cannot ever complete the chain of justification, and you must have justification to have knowledge, then you cannot ever have knowledge.
Most theories of knowledge are either foundationalist or coherentist, and most of those who reject both of those conclude that therefore knowledge is impossible, seeing infinitism to be as incoherent as I do.
But a few philosophers, including Immanuel Kant and Karl Popper, have instead rejected the justificationist principle tacitly underlying all of those positions, and instead say, as do I, that it is not necessary to reject every opinion until you can find reasons to justify it; it is only necessary to reject an opinion if you find reasons to reject it, and it is acceptable to hold any opinion, for no reason at all, until such reasons to reject it are found.
Like with coherentism, contradictions between different opinions are good reasons to reject some or all of them; and like with infinitism, this process of whittling away incorrect opinions is unending. But because both coherentism and infinitism tacitly accept the justificationist principle, neither of them quite adequately escapes the dilemma of either following it into nihilism, or else abandoning it for fideism.
When considering reasons to
intend something rather than reasons to
believe something, this anti-justificationism seems largely uncontroversial. Most people will accept that it is acceptable to do something simply because you want to do it, for no particular reason, so long as there is not a good reason not to do it. We don't demand that everybody stop doing anything at all until they can show that what they want to do is justified by the need to do something that is justified by the need to do something that is justified by the need to do something... ad infinitum. We instead just accept that they're free to do whatever there's no reason not to do.
My rejection of justificationism includes that kind of freedom of intention, and to deny such freedom of intention, as in to insist that nobody does anything until it can be shown that there is a good reason to do so, would also qualify as a form cynicism in the sense that I am against here. But my rejection of cynicism also extends equally to a freedom of belief like that put forth by philosophers such as Kant and Popper. I say that it is not irrational to hold a belief or an intention simply because you are inclined to do so, for no reason; it is only irrational to continue to hold it in the face of reasons to the contrary.
But in rejecting justificationism, I am not at all rejecting rationality, or the importance of reasons. I am still against fideism, against irrationally holding opinions in the face of all reasons to the contrary of them, or asserting them to others with no reasons to back them. I only hold, for the reasons I have shown, that such an anti-justificationist position is the only practicable form of rationality, the only one that leaves us with reasons from which to reason.
Justificationism, if true, would make it impossible to ever rationally hold an opinion, instead insisting either that we hold no opinions, or else hold some core opinions to be, quite irrationally, beyond question.
In rejecting justificationism, we make room to hold some opinions, still open to question, that can nevertheless serve as reasons to hold or reject other opinions. We do lose any hope of ever having absolute certainty in any of those opinions, as they all remain constantly open to question and revision, but justificationism never offered any hope of rational certainty anyway, only the irrational false certainty of fideism (or else none at all), and with justificationism out of the way we can at least begin to compare our tentatively held opinions against each other and progress towards gradually better sets of opinions.