footprints

I've published a lot of entries here about the seismic shift in thinking I went through when I journeyed out of supernatural beliefs. That shift involved confronting a lot of philosophical hairsplitting and arguments—of varying quality. I must admit that some could seem too abstract to matter. But it's still worthwhile to counter the faux-intellectual justifications that people wave around, even as they're committed to their beliefs for different reasons altogether.

Despite what other faults philosophical discussion may have, it's managed to establish one conclusion beyond all doubt: metaphors are fantastic for communicating these ideas. I'll heed this lesson and offer one:

On one glorious mid-morning in summer, the owner of an all-too-costly house on a small hill near the sea decided to take a short walk along the beach. She made her way down by the water. To her surprise she found a set of fresh footprints already there. The trail of footprints started off in the distance from the left and continued to the right as far as the eye could see. She noticed that the footprints were like her own, but she hadn't gone for a walk here for more than a week. This shook her to the core, because she thought of herself as someone who had specifically paid a premium for special access to a secluded private stretch of beach. So...she needed to explain how these footprints could have happened.

The first explanation for the surprise footprints is the one anyone would leap to: another neighborhood resident took their own extended walk earlier in the morning. This explanation is obviously reasonable. But at the same time it might disturb the homeowner in the story, because it challenges her desire for privacy. 

Fortunately for her, people could easily come up with far more explanations. For example:

• The laws of physics have changed over time and diverge between places. Different laws of physics were in effect when the footprints were laid down, and these footprints only survived to the present day because of this. 
• The footprints are a hoax carried out by a frighteningly competent yet invisible conspiracy. This conspiracy is motivated by a scramble for grant money to investigate footprints. Or perhaps the evil corporations in the conspiracy are hoping to provoke people into paying for beach security or upkeep.
• At the time that Earth was created from out of nothing in the blink of an eye, footprints were also simultaneously created on the beach. Perhaps the footprints were included to test the faith of anyone who'd dare to believe that the Earth wasn't created from out of nothing in the blink of an eye.
• The footprints were miraculously formed by a sea-witch, whose goal is to draw people away from the truth. Or perhaps the sea-witch merely touched the soul of the homeowner so that she was blinded to the truth and thought that she saw footprints (or forgot that she made the footprints herself).
• The footprints were made by a spiritual being (albeit with human-like feet) that made a short visit to our mundane plane of existence. Or perhaps there was a visit from an earthly mystery creature unknown to biologists. Or perhaps a creature from far space traveled a tremendous distance for the sole purpose of taking a stroll on exotic Earth.

The point of comparing the first explanation to the alternatives isn't to necessarily claim that any in the group are flatly impossible. It's to underline that, at least to those who aren't trying to drag in their preexisting assumptions or aims, the alternatives deserve far more skepticism than the first. Could someone work hard to defend their preferred alternative as a valid "theory" just like any other? Could they concoct chains of reasoning that make their preferred alternative seem a bit more plausible for other reasons than the footprints themselves ("presuppositions")? 

Well...yes. Regardless, the first explanation continues to be the one that requires the least stretching to fit the plain footsteps that were seen. I came to a similar realization as I changed my perspective about the supernatural beliefs I was raised to follow. All the straightforward observations of reality I learned about were like multiple sets of footprints. Each set was unfabricated and unbiased and pointed in the same direction. Meanwhile the difficult project to integrate these observations into my former beliefs began to seem like outlandish avoidance of the inference that human footprints are usually left by human feet. 

I kept returning to the undeniable truth that I wasn't simply arguing with slick philosophies written by combative loudmouths who hated the viewpoint I identified with; I was in some sense strenuously arguing with the direct implications of the objective data. I was twisting my thoughts to steer clear of what mere footprints were "saying".

Furthermore, I had an ingrained queasiness for the theologically-liberal solution of fully adapting supernatural beliefs to fit reality. In my mindset at that time, following it would've involved dropping and/or rewriting significant chunks of my beliefs. I wasn't ready for that...and I couldn't get past having a lingering distaste for it. As I mentioned in past blog entries, I was taught to wholeheartedly follow beliefs that were accurate, not beliefs that were "inspirational". (Let me note that in the present I'm much less opposed to the liberal solution, although I'm still not interested in putting any energy or time into following it myself.)

The opposite strategy, preserving the beliefs and mentally rewriting the facts, also didn't occur to me. As quaint as it might sound now, I didn't assume that I could easily discard the well-supported facts I disliked. Experience since then has shown that all that's needed is to reframe them as lies told by journalists and societal elites...who are the Enemy of the nation. Or I could do the same by reframing them as lies told by people with socioeconomic power who are either consciously or subconsciously enforcing the oppressive status quo of inequality between classes and/or races and/or sexes. The next step after that would have been to latch onto infamous "alternative facts" instead, which come from sources that are careful to amplify only the bits of dodgy information that can be bent to fit the target's imagination. 

Nope, I was stuck. I accepted the strange notion that findings can be independent of people and their desires, even to the point of justifying a broad change in their thoughts. Eventually, my thoughts did indeed change. The apt metaphor for this phase is another well-known one for de-conversion: I began to understand that I was looking through the "goggles" of belief. The better I became at cautiously removing the goggles and taking a second look at observed reality, the more I had to confess that those beliefs were distorting instead of magnifying what I saw. Or it might have been worse than that. The goggles had misled me to interpret the footprints as the traces of something that had never really been there at all throughout the various scenes of my life.

evasiveness was an essential ingredient in the message of Lost

The tv show Lost evoked a wide range of reactions. One of these was the common complain that the show's writing was perceived as excessively evasive, especially during the show's second and third seasons. "I'm tired of the way that Lost never stops to explain everything that's going on." Fortunately, the creative minds (I will never refer to people as "creatives"!) working behind the scenes were able to negotiate the endpoint, which allowed them to plan and pace their episodes more evenly.

Of course, the project of keeping the show going was a crucial reason why some degree of evasiveness was always going to be needed. It would've hurt the show tremendously if its plot took a halt and had a character—probably a mythological figure suddenly appearing out of nowhere by a burning campfire—deliver a monologue with answers for every question. That would've been a lecture, not a show. And in the case of Lost, the unsettling lack of knowledge was actually one of its major emotional engines (complete with quivering strings on the soundtrack). Eliminating that would've drained its effect as surely as eliminating the "will they/won't they" question has drained the effect of many shows that have a central couple. Out of the many shows that copied the Lost formula, some were much quicker to reveal the explanation of the mystery in the premise...and then those shows spun wheels in-place trying to go somewhere interesting after the big revealing.

Nevertheless, as I watch the show again from my present mindset, I'm convinced that evasiveness was more than a practical requirement. It was essential to one of the very ideas that it played with: faith. The writers have admitted that the concept of faith was one of their inspirations. The characters have conversations about it several times, and their attitudes toward it change over time. 

To put it bluntly, Lost couldn't portray faith as thoroughly as it did and yet not be evasive. Faith needs evasiveness in order to be maintained and to be labeled "faith". If faith in the show was intended to be meaningfully comparable to the supernatural faiths of real people, then it had to share those faiths' evasiveness about precisely how reality is affected in any way by the things in those faiths. Evasiveness was a show ingredient, not an accidental oversight.

Why did the show need to be evasive about...

• ...faith in the personification of "The Island"? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about faith in the personification of a "Good Force". 
• ...the source and meaning of various visions that characters have? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about the source and meaning of various visions that religious followers have. 
• ...why numbers are bad luck or significant in some other way? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about why numbers matter in numerology. 
• ...how or why people are healed—or not—by their faith? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about how or why religious followers are healed—or not—by faith. 
• ...the connections between paranormal "scientific" occurrences and the island faith? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about the connections between paranormal "scientific" occurrences and religious followers' notions about the supernatural. 
• ...the connections between popular religions and the island faith? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about the connections between popular religions, which would be part of explaining how it's logically possible for all the popular religions to be equally accurate.
• ...the unseen actions of the competing supernatural figures on the island? So that it could imitate the evasiveness of religious followers about the unseen actions taken by their competing supernatural figures. 
• ...the details in the plans and goals of those figures, as well as how those plans and goals directed events? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about the details in the plans and goals of religious followers' supernatural figures, as well as how those figures' plans and goals direct real-world events. 
• ...the definition of a good or bad person in the eye of the island? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about how to definitively sort people into good or bad according to religious followers.
• ...whether any one character is lying or simply incorrect about island secrets at any moment? So that it could imitate the evasiveness about whether someone is sincere and knowledgeable about what they say about supernatural things.
• ...the so-called rules about what people (and human-shaped beings with uncanny powers) are allowed to do? So that it could imitate the evasiveness of religious followers about exact behavioral rules, which they debate amongst themselves endlessly.
• ...abnormal abilities or mental links that some people have? So that it could imitate the evasiveness regarding the abnormal abilities or mental links that some religious followers claim to have, such as clairvoyance and divine guidance, etc.
• ...the ancient past of the island's inhabitants who left behind exotic ruins and other structures? So that it could imitate the evasiveness of religious followers about admitting that ancient societies' "false religions" were every bit as vibrant as current religions. 

Having said all this, I must be clear that I wasn't one of the people who objected to Lost's perceived evasiveness. I don't demand that fictional stories be upfront about everything at all times. I believe the show's writing staff have been honest about their motivation to leave some things unsaid so that the audience could have differing interpretations, similar to the way that songwriters may refuse to decisively explain their lyrics. Questions are fascinating; the unknown lurking below the surface is thrilling and dangerous. (Lodge 49 too has a vibe of people pursuing an amazing realm which always seems perpetually a little out of reach,..although it's far more laid-back about it.)

That's why I'm in a position that's curiously opposite to any complainers who are also religious followers. When it comes to stories that anyone claims to be nonfictional, I echo their complaints. Evasiveness is an appalling quality for supposed truth-tellers to have. I'm stumped by how they aren't displaying the same attitude and criteria toward the stories that they consider to be simultaneously nonfictional and dreadfully important. Why should the faith stories someone was raised in be granted blanket exceptions—considering that the same people often have no qualms whatsoever in denying the same exceptions to the faith stories they weren't raised in ("how could they believe such nonsensical things?").  Lost can be evasive because, in the end, it's a TV show. Real-life ideas about how the universe works should not be.

mission inadvisable

It's an excellent idea to step back from time to time and approach a belief as a total outsider would. Otherwise, there's a strong tendency to slip into thinking a belief is reasonable merely due to comfort and familiarity. "Common sense" is often no more than a label for "the culture I grew up in". Unexamined assumptions invade and settle into someone like plant roots tunneling into cracks in rocks.

In the religious environment I emerged from, one of these assumptions was the mission to evangelize. Every follower had this mission, at least theoretically. Followers were expected to try their hardest to turn more people into followers. And this mission was for everyone's benefit: newly turned followers received transformed lives and afterlives, but they were also useful additions to the existing group of followers too. The whole concept seemed like a quite natural consequence of being a follower.

Yet now, after both literally and figuratively removing myself from that setting, I can look at this mission with fresh eyes. Through my present viewpoint, it appears...just...poorly thought-out. Its reliance on religious followers is so very inadvisable. If one doesn't assume upfront that it's their mission, then there's a truckload of superior alternative strategies for gathering new followers.

To be more specific: after granting the point that it's necessary for people to be followers before a god may show mercy to them, then using existing followers is an awful option for that god to take. It has vast powers and it would (supposedly) be overjoyed to have more followers to show mercy to. What could it be doing instead to lure more people into following?

• Distributing some more recent holy writings would be a good start. The current set has become overshadowed by insolvable controversies over the intended modern meaning of numerous sections. At the same time, debates have arisen over what to do with the sections that "appear" to suffer from the incorrect perspectives and barbaric social mores that were in effect at the time of writing. For that matter, the simple project of translating the writings into other languages has had its own share of controversies. Publishing an updated edition of the existing set of holy writings, and clearing up which writings in the set probably shouldn't have been included in the first place, would be good at a minimum.
• A god could speak out more frequently to prospective followers and even to self-admitted enemies. "Speak" refers to expressing audible words to multiple people at once, rather than popping up in hazily-remembered dreams or nonverbal impulses to attend a service. Although some wouldn't welcome the message, a lot of them would probably relish hearing from the one actual god—the experience would give them a solid reason to believe rather than keep them in undecided, half-hearted suspense.
• It could carry out undeniable, inexplicable acts of goodness in the world. What route to popularity could be more endearing? What could possibly be easier for announcing that it cares for people? Of course the good acts will need to be claimed so nobody blames any other gods that they have ideas about.
• A less showy but still deeply appreciated gesture would be for it to communicate its staggering knowledge to a wide variety of domains. At this point in human history, people who have expertise in domains other than theology have somehow gotten the strong impression that neither this god nor any other is involved in any way in their domains. Some have stated that their expertise indicates that no god of any real relevance can exist at all. It should resolve such conflicts and patiently go into detail about at what point their expertise went astray. Its sharing of knowledge would also have the side effect of immediately advancing society as a whole; who knows what inventive people could manage to do with the new knowledge.
• Most obviously, it could dispatch evangelizing beings who are far better suited than fallible finite followers. It created everything from scratch, so creating such beings would be no obstacle. They could have abilities to teleport, project loudly enough to reach entire crowds, shrug off dangers of all kinds, execute the occasional miracle, know every language, memorize the entire set of holy writings. Furthermore, they could complete the mission without the weight of a long history of self-righteousness and hypocrisy, which followers need to try to deflect in order to get in the door. Some people won't have a conversation on the topic until they get a sincere answer to the question, "Why has a good god been represented on Earth by people like that?"

the mystery con

Sometimes the urge rises to simply call something what it really is. Mystery is a con. Arguably the more impressive trick isn't to convince otherwise-shrewd people to believe in "truths" that lack confirmation (wishful thinking does most of that work); it's to convince them that the lack of confirmation is thrilling and sophisticated and broad-minded. Rather than honestly saying "I can't do a good job of thoroughly showing why you should accept my statements about the supernatural domain", the strategy of the mystery con is to say "My statements are far too amazing and otherworldly to be confirmed the way you would confirm any other far-fetched statement." The more that the speaker leaves to the listener's imagination, the more that the listener's own brain can complete the rest of the picture in whatever way they happen to prefer.

And it's doubly effective because, like any excellent con, it tugs on feelings in the listener. First, it emphasizes the speaker's special access to knowledge and the feeling of authority that comes with that: "Because I won't tell you how I know, you have no choice but to trust me as your primary source of information." Second, it stirs the inborn fascination that people have for the unknown. By nature the unknown is more interesting than the known. Through the glamour of mystery, the refusal to be upfront about a statement's base of evidence appears less like sly cheating and instead like suggesting that there are wonders out there—on the other side of the the limits of credibility, that is.

Third, it provides the invigorating experience of novelty and escape, because the statements of everyday life don't give off the same stink of mystery. It's nowhere to be found in the mundane statements that come up in the process of getting real tasks done or observing real characteristics of real things. The bluff that "Yes, there's more to the universe and it's very exciting!" can only be kept up if the speaker never quite answers reasonable questions about why anyone should be firmly convinced of their claims. 

Fourth, the mystery con boosts the pride of the listener. One would expect a feeling of embarrassment about believing in statements with inadequate support; no one wants to be the fool. Yet a statement that's been whitewashed with the color of intriguing mystery works in the opposite way. The listener is enabled to boast that they themselves are extra-special, or that their beliefs have extra-special layers, because they are chained to extra-special mystery statements—statements that go over the heads of dull normal people who merely use time-tested and well-established means to sniff out deception. (To be forthright and say the emperor has no clothes is to show that you aren't an extra-special multilayered person, of course.)

On the other hand, the lesson to be drawn from the mystery con isn't that uncertainty is repulsive. The attitude to take shouldn't be excessive in either direction. It shouldn't be reverent in the manner that the mystery con encourages, but neither should it reflect distaste. Being clear-eyed about uncertainty comes from admitting the undeniable limitations of the data and methods used to gather knowledge. Uncertainty just is. Idolizing the mystery of not-knowing is off the mark, but idolizing absolute certainty is too.

Furthermore, this difference in attitude contributes to an important difference in the approach to counter uncertainty. If someone isn't ruled by their craving for certainty, then they're far less tempted to do what countless humans have done ever since they mastered language: make something up to fill the gaps in knowledge and use the word "mystery" to bat away questions about their inventions. Both 1) to place flimsy statements in the gaps and 2) to take such statements at face value have been common practices for literal millennia. 

By contrast, the two corrective practices of 1) obtaining knowledge through painstaking work and 2) demanding that speakers go into detail about the work they did to get their knowledge, weren't all that common...and to an appalling extent aren't nearly common enough in the present day either. The purpose of the mystery con is to distract listeners from relying on these corrective practices and to give the older practices more credit than was ever deserved.