Counting the cost of stories and beliefs
What is the cost of our religious (and ‘merely’ human) beliefs? Recently I’ve been compiling applications for graduate schools, which require fees for the application itself, a cost for the GRE, a cost for each transcript (from the three schools I’ve attended), and so on. The total isn’t staggering, but it’s a good chunk. My belief that I am a good applicant for a PhD program costs me some money, even if I am wrong. Other beliefs have costs, too.
The idea of a cost-benefit analysis for human beliefs isn’t new; Blaise Pascal’s infamous wager set the stage for a species of Christian belief predicated on the potential for an eternal payout. Problem is, we can’t simply ‘believe’ based on the possible benefits. As well, beliefs that cost us–in terms of social credibility, personal success–are often ones we cannot avoid.
I believe that human liberty is a social good. This costs me in a democracy, where my fellow citizens are free to vote their conscience, and where their conscience conflicts with mine. I do not believe in an eternal paradise, peopled with saints and paved with gold. While the benefit (if I were one of those saints) could be enormous, I cannot will myself to believe in it.
Part of my philosophy education, in addition to giving me a historical understanding of the debates involved in epistemology, philosophy of language & mind, philosophy of religion, and so forth, has been to help me identify my reasons for believing things. I’ve been exposed to a slew of arguments and counter-arguments for beliefs that most people never question (thankfully, for the sanity of our society!). Part of what I’ve learned is how to evaluate philosophical costs and benefits. What is the benefit to viewing the mind and brain in a dualistic manner? What are the costs?
What philosophy does not help with, except perhaps in a cumulative way, through years of reading and thought, is how to value these costs and benefits. For a presentist, the costs in terms of linguistic theory may be acceptable for the ontological benefits she receives by construing the set of existing things as belonging to the present. They won’t be acceptable to everyone.
The upshot of all this?
When it comes to belief in god, whether that entity be the god of Process, the god of Deism, the god of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, there are costs and benefits. I have to evaluate whether my constructed belief (or non-belief, or suspension of belief) has explanatory benefits that outweigh its costs.
Close readers will note that I’ve shifted “benefits and costs” from practical to explanatory. That is intentional. I’m not sure that humans can easily distinguish between the two of them in forming beliefs, although careful dissection on paper can help. In my instinct (which is, I admit, just that), we form beliefs and then construct stories about them. Often, those stories (i.e. reasons) make sense; other times, they do not. The exceptional human being will examine their stories, retelling them from varying angles, changing them and asking questions of them until they find sufficient coherence.
It’s a time-consuming task, one that I cannot seem to shake, despite knowing it will not end. That in itself is a question for another day.