Summer School

Follow the Evidence

Good morning fellow philosophers, 

Today we begin the first portion of our Summer School series. In today’s post we consider one’s approach toward the Evidence and I argue that this is in fact the basis for all of wisdom. 

You will notice that the format of this series is a break from our traditional 4 section format, in which we process a defined element of philosophical study or topic. 

Instead, this series is much more personal, more essay, and more stream of consciousness. 

Frankly, I miss writing in this format. I started TPP writing whatever was top of mind that morning, and typically churned out an essay each day. It was a little less refined, a little more personal, and perhaps even a little more honest. 

Sometimes, it feels that the format I’ve constructed allows me to hide a bit behind the formality of it all. I don’t think that’s a bad thing by any means, it really helps the content and the topics to shine as they should, but every now and then it’s nice to break the fourth wall and connect with you readers. 

This Summer Series is really a fun exercise–between vacations, travel, holidays, a little work, a lot of family time, and even a few naps–to slow down and reflect on what I’ve learned by doing The Pocket Philosopher. 

I feel confident in saying that no other exercise has had such a positive effect on my personal development as TPP, and it’s even more amazing that I get to share it with readers all over the world (so thank you if that wasn’t already clear!) 

In thinking about this prompt above–what has TPP taught me–I drift toward something of a formula. It’s not a universal formula prescribing a set of scientific laws, rather it is a descriptive formula which captures my experience with wisdom. 

After all, most of what we study here would be considered wisdom traditions of some kind. Philosophy itself is defined as the “study of wisdom.” For further context, it was until recently that Physics was known as “applied philosophy,” as in the scientific testing of wisdom in the real world. 

And so as I reflect on the intersection of all of these wonderful ideas, schools of thought, and tradition, I am left with the formula below:

“W (Wisdom) = E (Evidence) + A (Acceptance) + (I) Imagination 

W = E + A + I”

Over the next few weeks, I want to explore each of these components with you, and defend my description and experience with wisdom. 

I am rather fond of this formula because it succinctly captures the content and essence of my experience (and does a rather fine job of ignoring form or rhetoric). 

The older I get, the more I admire and appreciate that which can be communicated outside of the confines of rhetoric and persuasion. 

When I believe an argument because of how it is presented I take note. 

When I believe an argument regardless of who presents it or how convincing it is, I am intrigued. 

When I believe an argument even though it is presented by someone whom I distrust and without convincing rhetoric, I am elated to have discovered something so true, it needs no assistance in finding its way out. 

Of course, this also requires me as a recipient of ideas to maintain a spirit of charity which we’ve discussed so often here at TPP, and will no doubt touch upon many times throughout this series. 

If you can’t tell, the first change I have encountered through this project has been the development of a very scientific mind. A mind which finds great peace in uncovering what happened, reflecting on what I observed, and taking great pains to accurately describe the complex reality which I inhabit to the best of my ability. 

I’ve rather enjoyed leaving the orbit of inference, second hand evidence, and social/political/religious agendas. 

This to say, I am much less interested than I used to be in normativity (that is, the study of how we think things ought to be) and far more concerned with accurately capturing what is happening. 

And as I’ve done this, I’ve learned that simply understanding what is happening is actually quite difficult. I don’t know that the homo sapien has ever had so much interference in experiencing reality. 

Without passing judgment on tools like social media, television, entertainment, comedy, podcasts, substack etc. we simply have far more opportunities for interpretation in our day to day experience than ever before. 

Sure we watch the debate, but then we must absorb and process thousands of opinions thereafter, for example. I’m not sure that we understand what that is like for our brains, and for us as complex social animals. 

It’s at this point of the conversation which I am most likely to be misinterpreted as a cynic–someone who simply questions and criticizes everything, down to one’s own relationship with reality. 

But I am not choosing this (well-worn) path. Rather, I am choosing the path of epistemic humility. 

This phrase means that I am humble about what I can and cannot know, as well as humble about what I do and do not know. 

Since combining this practice with the principle of charity, I’ve been amazed to discover a rather uncomfortable truth: that I actually understand the world around me far less than I am socialized to believe that I do. 

A prime example of this in my recent past is regarding economics. In my chosen profession, I happen to interact with economists and international finance professionals across the globe. As I spend more and more time in this space, I continue to hone the niche craft for which I was hired, but have been humbled by the technicalities of things like inflation, banking, regulations, and secular interest rates. 

I was surprised to discover that economists are far less often explaining how a system works, and far more often discussing what they believe just happened in a given system. When I really listen to their more technical and effort-laden conversations or read their essays, they aren’t explaining to me (the reader) what went right and what went wrong like a mechanic would diagnosing your car, they are attempting to better understand a complex mechanism so they can help you make more informed probabilistic analysis. 

They say things like, “We believe…” and “It’s more likely than not that…”

To the masses who have been inculcated on a notion that competent people must have total control of their discipline, it can be tough to hear the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, for example, say something like, “So I would say that we believe it is restrictive, and we believe [that] over time it will be sufficiently restrictive.  That will be a question that, that the data will have to answer.”

Or in the height of a pandemic, in which a completely novel virus was circling the globe, the head of the emergency medical response says, “I believe it's the ease and efficiency of transmissibility.  So, for example, if you look carefully at the cases that were reported in the literature with SARS, it was mostly transmitted by people who were symptomatic, and a lot of it was associated with the healthcare setting.  But when you got into the general population, it didn't seem to efficiently spread at all.” 

In both of these instances, the absolute top of the pyramid in terms of prestige, pettigree, experience, knowledge, and authority responded to questions about their relevant craft (in this case the US economy and medicine) with an honest response. 

Because they inhabit these worlds every day, they have epistemic humility. They are acutely aware of what they can and can’t know. To be overzealous or overconfident in any hypothesis, is to put the lives and wellbeing of others in danger. It’s unethical. 

My concern is that we all participate in a public discourse which tends to equate confidence with truthfulness, and that we have been inculcated to associate familiarity with fact. 

And, we are often primed by some of the tools mentioned earlier (i.e. X, formerly known as Twitter), to counter the “I beleives” of an expert, with the fundamentalist zeal of someone unduly influenced by social pressures, rhetoric, and institutionalized fear. 

But the person who holds true to their epistemic humility, and maintains their own charity in the face of new information, is set to flexibly integrate the latest theory about the unknown. 

It’s the event horizon of new information we discussed last year in the essay below. 

When we choose epistemic humility and charity, our conversations are elevated so that they are actually helpful. 

When we choose the worst possible interpretation and race to that which is familiar or partisan, we obfuscate our ability to be honest with each other. 

When we realize that an expert saying “I believe” is ethical and responsible (and that it doesn’t mean they are incompetent, in fact it means the opposite) we join them in their disciplined adherence to evidence-based reasoning, we are free to do the labor of evaluating what we are hearing based upon the merit of the argument, and we’re able to pursue the evidence we have at hand. 

And sometimes, that means you will leave a debate, a hearing, a lecture, a conversation with only one possible honest outcome: “I don’t know.”

Because if we are humble about what we can and cannot know, we are free to admit when we don’t understand, or do not know what is best. 

But when we choose the familiar instead, we risk the hyper-polarization which contributes greatly to our collective suffering. 

And I think this is my main point: that starting with the evidence, with humility, and with charity is the most compassionate approach to the inevitable questions and crisis of life. 

So our first task, with a posture of charity, and with an honest assessment of what we can and cannot know, is to do the intellectual labor of actually wrestling with the evidence, with what we think happened. 

This is part intellectual, part mindfulness, and all very difficult. 

The point of this, by the way, is not to convince your friend or opponent to “play by the rules” of charity and epistemic humility. 

The point is to bring peace and wholeness to your life. The point is to pursue your own study of wisdom by starting with a humble analysis of the evidence. The point is to gain mastery over that which you know, and that which you do not (yet) know. 

Because this brings balance, harmony, and stillness to your mind in a chaotic world. 

You will experience the overwhelming and cognitive dissonance of a dozen opinions and rhetoric today. How you respond to that encounter, though, will dictate your state of mind, your relationships, and your happiness. 

So here’s to the freedom of admitting that which you do not know. 

It’s okay, no one needs you to know more than you do right now. No one needs you to be an expert. 

Follow your passions, remain flexible to all outcomes, and enjoy the process of discovering the complexities of life with those around you whom you love. 

Next time, we will examine the second part of the equation: Acceptance. 

Before we do, I want to close with one final idea. If in the pursuit of the first portion of this equation the result is 0 (i.e. you cannot honestly enter anything into the evidence value because you are unable), then the answer will also be 0. 

To put it another way, if you are honest enough to admit that you don’t understand the evidence, then the learning is not to continue with the equation, but to remain with the topic until you feel comfortable with what you’ve learned. 

Only you can judge when your knowledge is satisfactory, but I believe that self-reflecitve capacity to be the most important toward your own skillfulness and happiness. 

Here’s to the journey my friends, 

Matt