What do I believe ‘in’? Nothing.

I had a conversation with an atheist friend recently and I think we surprised each other.

Though an atheist she still felt she needed to believe in ‘something’, though she didn’t quite know in what; and to some extent she envied religious believers in that they had something to turn to, some belief. This surprised me, because though I know of some atheists who feel this way this was my first opportunity to hear it first hand. What surprised me more was her surprise at the nature my atheism.

She asked me, well what do you believe in? You surely must believe in something, ‘in humanity’, for example? Her surprise was that I said that as far as I can tell I don’t believe in anything, in that religious type of ‘believing IN something’, and I don’t need to. What about life, family, your wife?

I chose to respond about my wife – one’s wife is a common subject when believers insists that surely you have ‘faith’ in your wife’s love for you [gender & orientation notwithstanding]. Of course I love my wife. Along with my (adult) children she is most important to me. But I don’t ‘believe in’ her, in some all encompassing sort of way. She’s another human being. She has flaws, as do we all. It would be unfair to ‘believe’ in her in that way, and totally unnecessary. I trust her; and I’ve learned to do that with experience of not being given any reason not to. Exactly what I trust her with or about is less clear, but generally I’d say I trust her when she says she loves me; I trust her not to intentionally do anything that would hurt me in any way. But my wife and I are simply two human animals that have that type of loving bond that humans are capable of. It’s not magic. It’s not spiritual. It’s human. It’s what humans do.

I could come over all lyrical, quote lines from poems or love songs to express how deep my love is, but that seems to be rather superficial when trying to get to the bottom of this belief stuff. I need to explain it rationally. Spouting words of romantic love would express my feelings, perhaps, but wouldn’t go any way to explaining anything about belief.

Believing ‘in’ stuff always seems rather contrived; fake. I’m not disputing that people do believe like that. But I get the feeling that they’ve been busy fooling themselves into such beliefs, buying into romanticism spouted by poets, philosophers and theologians. It all seems such unnecessary nonsense. I get all the wonder and magic of living a human life, with other humans, and with other animals on this plant, and from the mysteries of the universe itself. I don’t see the need to believe ‘in’ anything.

Coincidentally Will Self has a piece in the BBC News magazine: A Point of View: Why not caring about anything is only for the young. “It is not the content of our beliefs that really matters, so much as the practice of believing itself, argues Will Self.”

Well, no, believing doesn’t matter. Or, rather, not believing ‘in’ something, avoiding such an error, is what actually matters, because it allows you to believe whatever you find to be the case. I find that believing ‘in’ something gives that something an importance that cannot then be betrayed by truth, and can lead to the denial of any truth that threatens what you happen to believe ‘in’. Religions gain their coercive authority from having people submit to belief ‘in’ them.

“Dostoevsky understood that what humans are, in terms of our moral being, is crucially tied up with what – if anything – we believe.”

As a matter observation, I guess that has been right, historically; mostly, for the thinkers that think about, thought about, those things. But I don’t think it’s a necessity for humans. I think it’s a habit, like one’s religion, that we have tended to fall into, or grown up into. It seems so common that I suppose it might be some quirk of the brain that makes it happen; an accident of genetics and gene expression in the environment of human brain evolution.

“In the contemporary secular era, one the lineaments of which Dostoevsky could perfectly well discern when he was writing in the 1870s, there are plenty of people keen to assert that they have no beliefs at all, if by this is meant a settled conviction about such big questions as why we are here, where we are going, and whether good and evil are ultimate realities or merely functions of a given social structure during a particular era.”

Quite right. If the enlightenment has shown us anything it’s that such convictions are foolish. It’s ironic that believers are often quick to tell us how wrong we atheist science proponents are in our belief ‘in’ science. They assume we believe ‘in’ science the way they believe ‘in’ whatever it is they believe in. And they couldn’t be more wrong. Scientific scepticism is the withholding of conviction – barring over enthusiasm in one’s pet theory now and again, but we’re quick to clarify the contingency of our apparent beliefs The contingency is what we take for granted as a lesson quickly learned in the failure to make accurate predictions when we expect to be able to make them. A failed experiment is telling us something: something unexpected about the subject of the experiment, or something unexpected about how to perform the experiment.

Learning to trust science generally, as a process of discovery, as the best process we have available to us, is not a commitment to a belief ‘in’ it. And when it comes to science in specific instances it’s usually the scientist doing the science that knows full well how contingent their very positive looking results are.

“But is it really true to say we have no beliefs? After all, if we truly believed nothing it would be difficult for us to operate in a world where everyone else behaves as if they did believe in something, that something being – by and large – the efficiency and reliability of the technologies we rely on for our daily life.”

Will Self is here failing to distinguish between belief, as expressed when we say ‘belief in’, and a learned trust.

Trust is a powerful empirical tool used throughout the animal kingdom, by animals possessing brains. Trust: we can start with it, and potentially withdraw it; or we can start without it and learn when to award it. The inquisitive nature of the young is an expression of this learning process: to dive in head first with no negative expectation, and learn from one’s mistakes, or to tread cautiously and learn what can be trusted.

Now it may well be that the human brain, with greater powers of reflection, is sometimes a little too sceptical for its own good, and often a little too trusting in invisible powers for which there is no evidence. These are issues of psychology and neuroscience that we are still trying to discover in detail. But despite our history of over indulgence in belief ‘in’ things, there is no reason to suppose this is some necessity for survival, or happiness.

“When we push button A we very much expect B to happen, when we flick a light switch we anticipate the light going on.”

Well, yes. These are learned expectations. There is no reason to believe a switch will bring forth light, and any ancient would be rightly mystified if it had. From an early age my children grew up with VHS video recorders which they could use to record and play back TV programmes. That was something I learned was possible at a much later stage in life than them, since I grew up with only two TV channels, then four, and no means of recording. My childrens children will think it quite natural to walk down the street seemingly talking to themselves when in fact they are in intimate live conversation with someone on the other side of the world. How would that not be sorcery to people of earlier times. But these are not beliefs ‘in’ anything.

“they depend upon beliefs that we hold on trust”

Yes, on trust, not through belief ‘in’. They are commitments of quite different kinds.

“This reliance on essentially occult beliefs for the smooth running of the physical aspects of our lives has engendered a further strange belief in us, a belief about our beliefs concerning those big, metaphysical questions.”

For some that aren’t fortunate enough to have the opportunity, through circumstances, to enlighten themselves that may be fair enough; but for anyone at all educated this amounts to wilful ignorance. I don’t know many details of physics, cosmology, chemistry, biology, and when I try to express my opinions on these subject I no doubt make mistakes, or run out explanatory steam. But I know enough to know that there will be answers there, if in fact I know that someone somewhere has taken the effort to make the appropriate discoveries. It seems to me that failing to grasp the rudiments of how things work is a failure of inquisitiveness not unrelated to the closing down of inquiry we see in many systems that require a belief ‘in’ them.

We can even go so far as to make reasonably educated estimates about as yet incomplete knowledge; not because we know that these things ‘will’ be discovered, but from a trust born of previously successful extrapolations. And tempered by previous failures too. So, as just one example, I see no principled barrier to humans discovering the nature of consciousness, as a function of a biological brain, to the extent that one day we will be able to enhance our own consciousness, encapsulate it in substrates other than evolved brains, and will be able to generate it afresh. There really is no known principle that persuades me this will not be possible. There is, however, a lot of belief ‘in’ stuff going on in some human brains that prevents them entertaining this possibility. Their belief ‘in’ some unsubstantiated specialness of human kind or person, often divinely created and so outside the creative reach of man himself, prevents them seeing the possibility. Believing ‘in’ things seems such a hindrance to the imagination – another irony given the flights of fancy believers often engage in without any need for evidence to support their beliefs.

“This abrupt curtailment of the Western metaphysical project has left us at the bottom of our metaphorical gardens, in our figurative garden sheds, and depending for our belief system on a series of makeshift structures we’ve knocked up ourselves.”

That’s right. We’ve invented some holy shit. And look at the price we are paying for that right now. The most profoundly religious places on earth are often the most abysmal. Of course the dogmas of religious belief are no worse than those of atheistic beliefs ‘in’ something or other – as religious believers will be only to pleased to remind us by bringing up Stalin and other wackos. But sceptical scientific atheism isn’t made of the same stuff: it’s the lack of unconditional belief ‘in’ things. If we’re going to believe something it’s going to be conditional on the evidence that supports it; and if better evidence comes along we give up the belief somewhat easily, though sometimes reluctantly, because our beliefs are contingent.

“If called to account on the gimcrack quality of our convictions, we relapse into a sort of stoicism light: “Well,” we say, “it’s true that these beliefs aren’t altogether credible, but that doesn’t matter because at root I don’t believe in anything – I’m just trying to get by like the rest of us.” But the problem with stoicism light is that it just can’t deal with the heavy stuff.”

I agree. There’s a lot of unthinking conviction going on. And ‘sophisticated theology’ is the cheapest and showiest ornament of all. And it’s all so unnecessary. But worse, it’s always poorly thought out. Supposedly sophisticated, it’s nothing but a sham.

“The problem with our contemporary secular beliefs is that they’re either makeshift, or entered into unconsciously, simply as a necessary operating system for our busy and digitised lives. The great believers in the wonder of the universe, as revealed to us by science, seem to have considerable difficulty in either galvanising us to social solidarity, or providing us with true solace.”

As for the social solidarity I defy you to give any example of solidarity that is more inclusive of people than is science. There are no bars to membership. And as unlikely as it is to find someone that is both Muslim and Christian, there is no reason a Muslim or a Christian can’t be a scientist.

And as for solace, I think the difficulty is in the minds of those expecting solace. Cast it off. You don’t need it. Or, to put it another way, there’s a natural peace and solace in the freedom from belief ‘in’ anything in particular. It’s deeply liberating.

Life throws up crap, and often this happens when you’ve taken the greatest care in your life to avoid it; and to rub salt in, you witness the most cavalier kind swanning through life happily with the least effort. When will you get it into your heads that the chaotic nature of nature defies perfect order. Shit happens, and the best you can do is try to avoid it happening to you and your loved ones, and if you can help a few others around the world avoid it too, all the better for your empathetic biology. And if you can positively create and improve, then better still.

“I’ve yet to hear of anyone going gently into that dark night on the basis that she or he is happily anticipating their dissolution into cosmic dust.”

Then you’re not listening.

That’s not to say an individual at death’s door doesn’t long to survive. We are biological survival machines. We are programmed to stay alive if we can, and barring relief from pain and suffering the human organism is programmed not to go gently. If you doubt the power of this biological force of nature then watch the beating twitching body of a mouse your cat has toyed with. For a more traumatic example make yourself witness (it’s your duty to do so) the struggling body of the victim of a beheading at the hands of those that currently take their solace from the religion of Allah. Then decide what makes stoicism so biologically unnatural, and how reliable religion is at providing solace.

It is one of the supreme powers of self control to slip away in fully conscious peace – it goes against our biological grain. And all the more incredible when not pretending we are simply crossing over to a better eternal life of bliss. Knowing you are going, right now, and this is the end, may be a challenge to our animal survival that even a contemplative brain has difficulty with. All the more virtuous then, if virtue is something you find appealing.

“nor do I witness multitudes assembling in order that they may sing the periodic table together, or recite prime numbers in plain chant.”

And what’s that got to do with the price of eggs? Do you think atheists that believe in nothing in particular cannot be stirred by the rhythms of music. Emotive religious music can be deeply moving. But then so is music by the Doors. Try Rhythms of the Brain, by Gyorgy Buzsaki if you want to know why rhythm is important – it’s nothing to do with the religious content. It’s nothing to do with believing ‘in’ something.

“By contrast, religious beliefs continue to offer many people genuine succour, and they do this, I think, as Dostoevsky realised, not because of the specific concepts they appear to enshrine – such as an afterlife or eternal judgement – but because they place the human individual in a universal context, and thereby give her life meaning.”

I can understand that, in a time of near absolute ignorance. And the irrelevance of the specific content of belief goes some way to explain the arbitrary and varied nature of it. What else could explain the success of Scientology? A trumped up religion, invented by a failed science fiction writer, and people actually believe ‘in’ that stuff? This tells us more about the gullibility of the human brain than it does about our need for succour – or it tells us it’s such a desperate need we’ll believe damned near anything other than the cold facts of life and death. It is almost as incredible that any educated intellectual falls for the religious crap, but sure enough they do. And some of them scientists too. Even biologists.

We might still be early in our journey of the discovery of this universe and beyond, but the sciences of physics, chemistry, biology and evolution, and latterly the brain sciences and the discoveries of our symbiotic relationship with all life on earth, and with any other life there might be in the universe, and with the rhythms in the dust of the universe – all this, it gives life far greater meaning than any trumped up imaginary fantasy.

Don’t get me wrong. Fantasy has its places, from childhood fairy tales, to adult fictions, theatres, art. We are emotionally driven intellects, and it’s often fun to lose ourselves in our imagination. And the devotional life may have its merits in personal fulfilment – it takes all sorts, and there’s no telling what one’s brain might find satisfying. And the simplicity and beauty of non-belief-in provides an exhilarating freedom of its own kind.

So, it’s not a belief ‘in’ something, the universe, and our place in it that we need. It’s the marvel of the discovery that we collectively, accumulatively, we lumps of dynamic dust, have been able to contemplate and understand what we are, what we came from, where we might yet go, that gives life its meaning. That and a good pint or a tasty dram, a hearty meal, passionate sex, holding hands, a melody, a pleasant snooze in the afternoon. Living our small short lives and marvelling at the greater universe is plenty satisfying enough. I don’t need to pretend in an afterlife or in any cosmic shepherd to watch over me and guide me. The last thing I need is the atrocious nonsense that the big religions dream up. I don’t need to believe ‘in’ something; what a chore.

14 thoughts on “What do I believe ‘in’? Nothing.

  1. I take it that in your reality, the concept of belief is nothing more than an abstract construct. It seems you have elected to “believe” in trust to satisfy your thoughts, and that your reality would be quite satisfied if there were no definition for belief, and the word was non existent. “I trust in myself” verses, “I believe in myself”, in your reality, I take it that they are interchangeable, with exactly the same justification. In my reality, I can visualize a difference, one based in science, knowledge, and experience….the other based in imagination. You may say that my imagination is only a reflection, or result, of what I know already, but that is your reality, not mine….and my reality is better than your reality! 🙂

  2. Hi John,

    No, belief is not abstract but a function of the brain. It’s when the brain sees a match between its internal models and the outside world. Of course beliefs can be wrong, or false, because the brain can see a match were there is none, or where the perceived match is illusory: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareidolia.

    Science is a set of methods that are generally aimed at making this match, what we believe to be true about the world, more reliable, by using more rigorous methods than we would do in every day life. But as individuals, even as scientists, we are still stuck with our sensory system and our brains.

    “It seems you have elected to “believe” in trust to …”

    No, you miss the point. That’s like saying, “I believe in believing in stuff.” It’s sort of circular and pointless. So, no, I don’t believe in trust as such. I simply find that it’s something that works pretty well. I could try living without using trust, but then I’d have to verify and re-verify every damned thing: this milk was OK when I put in in the fridge an hour ago, but what if my wife put poison into it? It’s the ultra-scepticism of paranoia and madness. Humans trust naturally in many things. Another way of seeing trust is as learning. We learn what can be relied upon, and we learn by our mistaken trust what can’t. It’s a very pragmatic concrete business, and not abstract at all.

    Of course theologians and philosophers are good at making a mountain out of a molehill and are quite capable of abstracting the notion of trust into belief IN things, but I was specifically objecting to this belief IN nonsense.

    ““I trust in myself” verses, “I believe in myself””

    I think they are quite different, when we account for the way belief IN is commonly used. I do trust myself to get most of the spelling right on these posts. I find that I often make mistakes though, through genuine poor spelling knowledge or through typos of spellings I do actually know. So knowing that I have less trust in my spelling than a consistently good speller might, and I occasionally correct posts when I spot them – I expect them. I do not have complete trust IN my spelling.

    And nor do I have any other romantic notion of trust IN myself. It seems a notion that afflicts those with low confidence that need an ego boost.

    “I can visualize a difference, one based in science, knowledge, and experience….the other based in imagination. ”

    Me too. Trust is a foundation of science. It wouldn’t work very well if paranoia-like all scientists mistrusted every little bit of evidence they gathered. Of course a healthy scepticism is called for; a pragmatic balance. Some of the methods of science allow us to apply more trust, but they are not infallible methods – e.g. peer review. Belief IN stuff does seem to come from the use of the imagination, by concocting stuff that we might believe IN.

    “and my reality is better than your reality”

    How would you go about demonstrating that in a scientific sense such that third party scientists would agree that yours is better than mine?

    1. I’m inclined to think so.

      I think it is the case with many beliefs for which there is no supportive evidence, and the belief relates to claims that seriously go against the grain of what we have reason to think is the case based on evidence – so, belief in some supernatural realm has no positive supporting evidence; materialism has supportive evidence of all our experiences (contingent on possibilities like solipsism not being the case). Or, at least there’s nothing to determine what such an imagined supernatural realm might consist of, so God, for example, is a speculation that is unjustifiably claimed to be real. Why not hypernatural realms, etc.? Just because desert tribes came up with a particular imaginative story?

      But, self-deception is inevitable to some degree. And we all suffer biases. So, again, I have to accept that my materialism/naturalism might be a self-deception, if solipsism is true. But my materialism/naturalism is a reasonable working conclusion based on the only evidence I can get at: experience.

      However, as long as I’m aware of such contingencies, and I’m prepared to adapt my view, then I think it is reasonably honest working model, and not anything like the self-deception the religious go in for.

  3. Well, in philosophy it can be restricted to ‘experience’ of the senses, and as such contrasted with the ‘mind’, and the mind’s reason.

    However, the brain’s neurons and the neurons of the senses work on the same principles. They are cells, first of all, and they interact across their cell membranes through chemical signalling. And they transmit signals along their length through chemicals moving across the membrane as ion transfers, which results in the action potential – so the action potential is very much a ‘physical’, chemical signalling system, unlike electron flow in wires.

    So, the senses and the internal brain operation are similar. Brain activity amounts to masses of neurons ‘sensing’ each other and reacting. The brain is physical/chemical. And without any evidence for anything additional it’s all empirical, sensory, at some level or other.

    Looking then at the macroscopic behaviour of this system, the peripheral senses and the brain neurons, what’s the difference between ‘sensing’ and ‘reasoning’? Fundamentally (barring evidence of magical immaterial mind stuff) no difference: the brain is an empirical system.

    So, with that, empiricism is all about experience: the sensing (and motor probing) of the environment, the internal processing that amounts to reasoning about our experiences, forming contexts from lots of information. Empiricism is the experiencing the world, reasoning about our experiences, adding information to our knowledge, using that to determine what we do in the world, which causes more sensory experiences, about which we reason, …

    We might not choose to call some of the internal stuff ‘reasoning’, because we tend to associate that (historically) with the conscious behaviour of actively thinking. But if we think of it in terms of processing of data, computation, then the brain does that without us being consciously aware of it, and the conscious reasoning is a subset of that. We are conscious OF reasoning, but we do not experience the actual reasoning at the low level. We cannot ‘feel’ our neurons interacting. And the computation of sensory data is a subset too (e.g. the scale of touch to pain is determined by the frequency of action potential pulses – another computational process).

    Put all that together and we are empirical beings. Empiricism rules.

    Bacteria are empirical beings too. They just don’t have the particular central computational system that animals with brains do.

    To take it to the limit, all matter is empirical; though it means less, if anything at all, to say a rock ‘experiences’ anything as it bounces down a hill.

    To go in the other direction, there is a broken continuum of inanimate matter, precursors to life (the first replicators that we speculate about), viruses, bacteria, …, us (so far).

    If it were necessary to distinguish this from the traditional philosophical meaning of empiricism, ‘philosophical empiricism’, I’d call this ‘scientific empiricism’, because it’s what doing science amounts to.

  4. I think it’s mostly materialism, naturalism, and for consciousness it’s physicalism. There are theist scientists though. And there are non-theists who still seem to cling to something ‘special’ about human consciousness that amounts to spooky non-physicality but maybe not quite dualism sort of unclear notion. It seems to me that some people are just too damned scared of thinking of themselves as just stuff.

    Good podcast from Harris/Tegmark here:
    http://www.samharris.org/blog/item/the-multiverse-you-you-you-you

    As well as the actual science, if you listen to Tegmark talk about the views of some physicists and mathematicians you get the sense that they feel some specialness, for humanity or their subject matter. He talks about people being offended, uncomfortable, and talks about the number of physicists that think such and such – which is all very much the way theists feel about their beliefs. Even scientists can be a bit touchy if their pet ideas are challenged.

    1. Thank you Ron for your reply.

      You wrote,”I think it’s mostly materialism, naturalism, and for consciousness it’s physicalism.”.

      Let us explore materialism first.

      So, my question to you is: What is matter and what is materialism?

  5. Based on our experience we seem to be made of stuff and interact with that stuff. That’s matter, whatever it might actually be. Add the edge of current experiment it still seems like that. But speculative theory, and speculative philosophy suggests perhaps that stuff might be more ephemeral than it appears at our scale. For example, mathematics of some sort (I’d bet on discrete: Wheeler’s it-from-bit, or Floridi’s information-data-distinction.)

    But a fair answer is, we don’t know.

    But since we have nothing else to go on, some theory of matter that accounts for our experience of it is required. Note though that would have to include a theory of matter than can build a brain that can have such a theory of matter that accounts for matter … i.e. a closed system.

  6. You said,”But a fair answer is, we don’t know.”

    I agree.

    Just to add to it: When I ask this question to people who are knowledgeable about physics, I get answers like this:-

    1. Matter is energy.
    2. All what exists are force fields.
    3. Matter is subatomic particles.
    4. Matter is waves. etc. etc.

    I think what is important is to not to “believe in” any thing and to be honest with yourself.

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