A Curious Contradiction
No one can know for sure. That's how I know for certain.
There’s an interesting style of argumentation that I want to address, due to the unique frustrations it manages to cause me, and the revelations that come with those frustrations. It starts with a simple, fairly obvious premise. Humans don’t know everything. Usually this is followed with supporting evidence, maybe examples of how science was wrong about something, or a more general claim about the universe being too big or complicated for humans to ever fully comprehend.
I’m not exactly a stranger to this premise. I actually agree with it deeply, and would argue that understanding human failing is a big stepping stone on the way to genuinely understanding reality. But after introducing this premise, the argument takes a really weird turn. You see, after introducing the assertion that humans are flawed and don’t fully understand the universe, the universe is then described in very explicit detail.
Let me give a few examples, those do the best job of illustrating my point.
‘Science doesn’t know everything, supernatural events are entirely possible, we just can’t test for them. I was sitting alone in my house at night, and a ghost turned on my microwave.’
‘There are so many planets in the universe, it’s basically impossible for us to say that there isn’t non-human life on one of them. That weird blip in the sky is surveillance equipment used by aliens to monitor the progress of humanity.’
‘Humanity is unbelieveably complicated and competent; you could painstakingly study the human body for your entire life and only understand a fraction of it. An all-powerful, all-knowing entity exists which created humanity and the universe.’
To make myself perfectly clear, I am not asserting that the second of any of these statements is wrong, per se. The issue is that they lack direct supporting evidence. They make very specific claims about how the universe exists, without putting forth any real evidence as to why those specific claims should be favored. The only evidence cited, apparently, is ‘no one knows’.
This drives me insane. You cannot say that no one knows for sure, and then make very specific claims about how the universe exists. You don’t know why the microwave turned on, you don’t know what that weird thing in the sky is, and you don’t know what created humanity. You just told me that you don’t know, that no one knows, so why are you so certain about the conclusion? How is it that you can sit there with a straight face and make claims with huge implications for humanity and how we should view the broader universe, without even making a passing attempt to justify that claim? And worse still, why am I the only person in the room pointing this out?
Because that isn’t how other people understand it.
That’s the most frustrating thing about this style of argumentation for me. No one but me seems to call out the flaw. People don’t fault the argumentor for making this assertion, or penalize them for using this premise. Typically, people either readily agree, or sit in a sort of bemused silence, perhaps agreeing in a noncommittal way.
Though this is frustrating, it’s also quite important. It means that I’m an outlier in this scenario. Combine that with the well-backed assertion that most of humanity is quite rational, and it means I’m probably missing something. It means that something can be learned here. So let’s try to break it down.
The key here is the premise. While I view it as directly contradicting with the eventual argument, others don’t really pick up on this. That’s pretty strange, right? If someone walked up to you, said you should assume that strawberries are the tastiest fruit, then started monologuing about how blueberries are crazy delicious, you’d notice the contradiction. When people push back against this argument, it’s usually because they take issue with the conclusion on its own merits, not really the inconsistency between premise and conclusion. Call me crazy, but I think that means there isn’t an actual contradiction between premise and conclusion, when interpreted conventionally.
It’s worth noting that all of my cited examples deal with areas of low human knowledge. Supernatural events are this way by default, our universe is underexplored due to its overwhelming size, and the creation of both humanity and the universe lie in the distant, unremembered past. The premise that ‘no one knows’, is far more correct in these scenarios than in many others. This is representative, in my experience. When stated in areas of high human knowlege, this style of argumentation is a pretty good way to get laughed out of a room (Try stating that no one really knows how many fingers humans have on their hands, for instance).
Taking this into account, I think it’s fair to say that the premise isn’t a means of establishing cause and effect, as most premises do, but rather serves a role in establishing the burden of proof. When no one knows something, when it is beyond the reach of human rationality, that means you don’t need to present compelling evidence for it.
If ghosts existed in an area of high certainty, it would be very easy to disprove them. After all, everyone knows that ghosts cannot move heavy objects during the daytime, and can only create sparks if they’ve recently empowered themselves by communing with the enraged spirit of a polar bear. Therefore, it’s impossible for a ghost to have set your car on fire while you were driving it yesterday. Unless you think the polar bears have suddenly made a mass migration to Louisiana, for some reason.
But this isn’t the case. When someone asserts the presence of a ghost, they can claim it on the basis of basically anything. A light flipped on, I heard a voice, there was a weird smell, I felt the presence of someone else in the room. Can ghosts fiddle with electronics? Maybe. Can they speak? Maybe. Can they stink up the place? Maybe. Can you feel their presence? Maybe. None of these assertions are provable or disprovable, given our current knowledge of ghosts. So, whenever one of these claims is made… What do you do?
You readily agree, perhaps because you already believe in ghosts, perhaps because your friend is generally trustworthy. Or, you sit in bemused silence. You know that something is off here, but there isn’t anything tangible to grab on to. You cannot disprove their statement, so it goes unchallenged. Maybe aliens really are monitoring us through that weird thing that appeared in the sky for like thirty seconds, then disappeared. It’s not like I have a better explanation. After all, no one knows.
I think that this reveals a weak point in the human process of truth-finding. When evidence is present, we can prove people wrong. Social norms regulate this process. You don’t accuse someone (in your in-group) of being wrong without evidence, because it gives no benefit. You won’t prove them wrong, and people might get angry at you. Without a good reason to contradict someone, your role is closer to a character assassin than an arbiter of truth. This is a good impulse in areas of high human knowledge, keeping our useless squabbles to a minimum, while still allowing us to self-correct when we veer too far from basic truths. However, this same impulse backfires, once evidence disappears. Since claims are primarily disproven with contradictory evidence, incontrovertible claims can become widely known fact.
I say that this is a weak point, but in most cases it is a fairly innocuous and understandable weak point. Low human knowledge means we aren’t interacting with this subject too much, so being wrong probably isn’t that big of a deal. Beyond that, gauging the truthiness of a statement without having any contradictory evidence present is, ah, quite difficult. The simple premise of “life is unbelieveably complicated” is pretty good evidence for a sentient, powerful creator, as long as there aren’t any competing theories.
And that’s the rub, isn’t it. With evidence, if you want to prove something wrong, you have to find a quick fact. A simple Google search, and you’ve won the day! Without evidence, you have to do a lot more legwork. Envision the world and how it would work if what they say is true. Compare with the world and how you currently understand it to work, and see if you can iron out any inconsistencies. Then, spend time trying to envision alternative explanations for the phenomena being discussed, and gauge whether those explanations are more likely than what has already been proposed. Essentially, you have to recreate the entire universe, and then observe that recreated universe through a broad set of often contradictory lenses, just to figure out whether the claim is credible. Where there is no easy evidence, you’ll have to hand-mold your own, then compare.
Unless you have an unusual joy deep in your soul that comes from performing this sort of mental gymnastics, you probably won’t want to go to all of this trouble just to figure out how correct one of your friends is about ghosts. It’s much easier to either agree with them, or disagree without comment. Plus, going on a tirade about ghost physics the next time a friend busts out the Ouija board is probably going to hurt your case more than help it.
Perhaps the solution to this conundrum is ultimately a simple one. When someone claims that the world is a big place, that we don’t have all the answers, that no one knows for certain… Believe them. Believe them, and ground them by that standard. For if no one can say for certain, then neither can they.