Not Buying the Belief
Sextus Empiricus is one of my favorite philosophers because his writings are clear, simple and radical. In Outlines of Pyrrhonismhe explains that the goal of every Pyrrhonist is to attain ataraxia, a pretty word that just rolls off your tongue and that roughly means equanimity. In order to get there, you first have to cultivate "epoché“, a way of being in the world with all judgment suspended.
Yes, that’s right. All judgment suspended.
Sextus writes: „Epoché is a state of the intellect on account of which we neither deny nor affirm anything.“ We can’t determine if anything is true, so might as well give up. The universal answer to everything is maybe. In ancient times Pyrrhonists were known for strong statements:
Everything is non-apprehensible.
To every argument an equal argument is opposed.
I determine nothing.
Epicureans and Stoics wrote about and taught similar concepts, although Pyrrhonists, the original skeptics, remain unbeatably direct and clear. If you’re interested in Buddhism, you’re probably not a stranger to epistemological doubt or ambivalence towards dogma. At last, it was the founder of the Rinzai Zen school who famously said: “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.” And learning about Zen, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hit you over the head with a stick for holding too many beliefs!
Buddhists and Pyrrhonists have a lot in common, the concept of dependent origination being an important overlap. Whatever we see, think or feel is dependent on other ideas, impressions, etc. Everything is contingent on something else, so nothing has existence on its own and we can’t know anything outside of a context in which this thing exists. Things don’t have timeless unchanging essences since their existence depends on constantly changing conditions. We can only observe what arises and what causes and conditions make it arise. Things can seem a certain way, but we can’t be sure that this is what they objectively are. Sextus went so far as to claim that there is no such thing as a person, something that history has proven true if you give it some thought: we’ve often redefined that category to suit our daily political aims, and to this day we fight for the full personhood of the oppressed.
We live in a world where we seem to think that we need certainty. The worst thing that can happen to us is to feel uncomfortable and anxious, which sadly makes us opponents of doubt. The weight of uncertainty descends, and we must hold on to something, we have to do something to stop it. This illustrates how fragile we are and how we become ever more fragile, the more we try to hide and run into certainty, finding it anywhere on the spectrum from science to religion and the infinite varieties of imaginary moral high ground in between.
From this contemporary fragile vantage point, telling someone to give up the comfort of their beliefs sounds counterintuitive and even dangerous. What’s next, I can hear you ask? Should I start wearing a tin foil hat on my head? Retreat to a monastery and live on sunlight and gratitude? Oppose vaccination? Deny science? Give up God? (Insert whatever you believe strongly and finish the sentence with a question mark.)
Sextus was a physician, and being a physician is a practical thing. Even though he held no beliefs whatsoever, he still had to do things. When someone comes to you and says they have diarrhea, you can hardly send them off with an epistemological tip: diarrhea is just a construct, man! Don’t hold any beliefs and you’ll be fine!
*
In his brilliant book Contingency, Irony, Solidarity Richard Rorty dreams up a subject he calls the Ironist. Here are the three defining characteristics of such a person (p. 73):
She has radical and continuing doubts about the final vocabulary she currently uses, because she has been impressed by other vocabularies, vocabularies taken as final by people or books she has encountered;
She realizes that argument phrased in her present vocabulary can neither underwrite nor dissolve these doubts;
Insofar as she philosophizes about her situation, she does not think that her vocabulary is closer to reality than others, that it is in touch with a power not herself.
To avoid going on further philosophical tangents, it’s perfectly fine to understand “vocabulary” as a set of beliefs, a theory about what the world is like, about what we are like too.
The ironist goes through life making decisions based on how things appear in the moment, to the best of her understanding. When her understanding fails, as it certainly does sometimes, she assesses the evidence and proceeds. She is not emotionally attached to her ideas about the world, because for her ideas are tools that help you live. When your watch stops working, you buy a new one. When your idea about something stops working, you come up with a new one. You don’t cry, you don’t bully reality into being what you want it to be, you go along.
Rorty makes a rather important ethical point here too. The ironist is impressed with other vocabularies. Because she understands that her own worldview is contingent on her experiences, her culture, etc. she isn’t particularly convinced that her way is the right way, so she can remain open and curious about the way other people conduct their business. She can engage in dialogue and learn from them, thus expanding her current vocabulary and making it better.
*
I will conclude with a brief quote from Sextus himself: “Skepticism relieved two terrible diseases that afflicted mankind: anxiety and dogmatism.”
The cure is here, will you take it?
