[Part 1 of 2]
A belief itself is really little more than a statement. It can therefore, itself, be neither true nor untrue, right or wrong. It is the reasons for that belief that make it right/true/valid or not. In fact, perhaps the “truth” is the reasons—the truth, or validity, of the reasons for the belief. Are the concepts of truth, right and wrong a priori, or are they also fabrications the nature of which we simply do not yet understand? And what about the truth of the reasons themselves? Do they not also require reasons for us to accept them as valid? Hence, the reasons behind the reasons. If they do not, then why (or, how) not?
I wonder if the problem lies not with how to find the truth, but in our concept of “truth” itself. The idea of looking for the truth is a limit imposed on reality by us, and this is possibly as fruitful as a cat chasing its tail. If we have set up this abstract thing called “truth” and then look for it in reality (nature), the odds aren’t good that we’ll find it, because what we are looking for came from our own illusions. Why not just look for what’s there without pre-conceived notions and assumptions? Why not rather seek truth in the absence, the deconstruction, the disillusion, of those pre-conceived notions and assumptions? These are vastly different approaches.
A seemingly obvious truth, such as “the cat is on the mat,” which even a child can grasp, is only as true as the reasons behind the reasons as to why it is true; what is true to us humans is dependent upon the context in which it is examined. Human truth is, thus, relative. It is based on assumptions, and cannot exist without assumptions. Assuming “this,” we can deduce “that.” When we deconstruct the cat on the mat statement and challenge its most basic assumptions (such as what a “cat” is as opposed to what a “mat” is, and whether these things exist or not, in what context do they exist, and what it means for something to exist at all, as well as issues of what “is” means, etc.), what we discover is that our truth is still only based on assumptions, certainties, and contexts built of these things; they are based on beliefs and ideas.
Thus, something is only “true” if it is accepted as true. “Truth,” then, is utterly dependent upon acceptance and agreement for its very existence as a concept. In the end, it is relative and contingent, based on subjective opinions and ideas, no matter how valid the arguments and reasoning based on these ideas seem.
“Reason” itself is a human construct which we impose upon nature. Reason makes our lives “better,” or rather it simply makes life easier for us; it serves our wants and needs as well as our fears and illusions. Reason is the glue to connect our ideas and concepts. Reason is a context. It is also one of those concepts the nature of which is our own illusions. Thus, unless Spinoza is right about there being certain laws of nature that exist independently of our concepts and minds, then we are using a concept to justify concepts; it’s flimsy.
This is the importance and brilliance of Kant; for he pointed out the possibility that we are caught in a circular maze of our own mind’s hardwiring. That the fact that reason and logic exist for us, that we use these things to understand the world, does not mean that they exist outside our realms of perception. Who can say what happens, and more importantly, the way (how) things are, when a human is not around? The question is not necessarily whether things can exist outside of our perceiving them, but how they exist.
How valid, how true, is this “reason,” this way we connect and relate our thoughts and sense perceptions? Not only that, but is the way we think really rational, or is “reason,” and the formal logical systems built by Aristotle, simply what we call the ways we think, a system we impose upon our thinking? A house can seem very sturdy and well-built, but if the materials of which it is constructed are insubstantial and flimsy, or if there are no nails connecting the materials—rather we assume that since they are touching each other that there must be glue or nails—then no matter how well the materials seem to be connected, the house will, upon closer inspection, reveal itself to be nothing more than an illusion of a sturdy house. Similarly, an argument or rationale is only as strong as the materials of which it is constructed.
Thus, perhaps reason is relation, and not connection. Perhaps what we see as glue and nails connecting ideas is an illusion of connectedness, and the ideas are merely touching, relating, but not really connected. Perhaps this illusion of connection is “reason,” similar to how the movement of still images flashed in quick succession gives us the illusion of motion.
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From my personal notes, 8/19/99.
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[Click here for Part 2.]
