BELIEFS and HOPES
Just so we’re all on the same page, a “belief” and a “hope” are two very different things that should not be confused.
I might hope, for instance, that it snows. But there may be no reason for me to think that it will snow, and I’m not suggesting that it’s going to, only that I’d like it to be so. (It may be July, I may be in San Diego, and thermometer might read 120 degrees in the shade...) Notice that, as a result, I would never be asked to justify my hopes and desires beyond something like, “well, wouldn’t it be nice?”
(I assume these are indisputable facts we all know intuitively, but I may be wrong.)
Now pay attention to how different the same idea feels if you replace the word “hope” with “believe”. If you say you “believe” something you’ve made a personal attempt at understanding how the universe actually operates. And, more than that, you’re sharing what you think you’ve learned with others, and hopefully in some kind of coherent way. As such, a belief is a representation, or maybe an expectation, of how you think reality actually works. Right?
You might say, “I believe it’s going to snow.” And saying so you can expect others to respond with some amount legitimate questioning. (It’s July after all, and 120 degree in the shade!) “Really? Why?”, someone will instinctually and very rightfully ask. And then you will be forced to respond, expected to share your reasoning in a manner that others can follow. And, again very understandably, your belief will, whether you like it or not, then be evaluated on it's consistency with other people's understanding of reality. This happens automatically.
Critically, you’ll notice that it’s this simple, fair, and friendly questioning that can actually expose a hope disguised as a belief – which is a simple and common mistake. As it turns out, we often believe something to be true, and act accordingly, when we don’t actually have any good reasons. (Often our reasoning is entirely non-sequitur, founded on a common fallacy, or grounded in outdated information. I certainly catch myself making these mistakes and, really, there’s just no excuse for it.)
I think we get away with fooling ourselves like this so often because, outside of a classroom, we seldom receive any pressure to actually defend what we think or say or do. (I know this is the case for me. Only a select minority of my very closest friends ever question any of the bullshit I expound.) Is this because we’ve convinced ourselves that making sense and understanding one another, or even attempting to do so, is unnecessary and even impolite? And yet to be honest is to admit that our perceptions are always incomplete and that this incompleteness is always shaped and coloured by our hopes and beliefs. No? So there’s nothing wrong with being wrong. Ever. I mean, we can seldom help it. Of course this is why when trying to capture the truth of the matter we seek help: we do double-blind studies wherever possible, submit our work for peer review, and collectively ensure that it is robust, refutable, and reproducible.
Still, I come across folks all the time who suggest their beliefs shouldn’t be available for scrutiny by others in the first place. They argue their thoughts are personal and, being so, shouldn’t matter to anyone else. However, what you or I believe always has repercussions for others. And, this being so, it’s only reasonable that we apply some pressure to them, our beliefs, to see what the are really made of. No?
Fortunately, bad ideas are at their most dangerous when they remain unchallenged. When held up to the light, bad ideas have a tendency to crumble and fade; while good ideas, on the other hand, grow increasingly infectious. Doubly fortunate, for us all, we live in a culture that respects freedom of opinion and expression above all, and is tirelessly committed conversation over any and all forms of censorship or violence. Yeah.
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