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Philosophical Skepticism & the Double Bind



I don’t have the quote in front of me, but there’s a great one by Richard Feynman where he talks about the habits of people who are considered geniuses (genii?). One of them is that these people tend to hold about 10 or 12 on-going puzzles in their head at any one time. Then, whenever a new idea comes along, they sit down and slot that new idea into each of these puzzles until something clicks, and then suddenly they make a big break-through, and everyone’s all amazed and wonders how they do it. But the fact is, it’s very methodical.

The technique itself is, I think, genius - and ever since I’ve been very consciously using it. In case you haven’t already caught on, the latest idea to catch my fancy is the double bind. Just before this, it was virtual reality. Before that, it was something else. It’s a nice way of working because it lets you go back and reassess what you know and what you used to be interested in, and gives you new perspectives on it, and on how you got here, and how it all fits together. My latest jaunt in this direction has to do with hooking the concept of the double bind into other problems I’ve tackled in the past. This time I want to do a quick pass at philosophical skepticism, which you can read more about here.

Quick summary: before being associated with scientific skepticism in modern times, skepticism was an ancient school of philosophy in Greece and later in Rome. The goal of ph. skepticism was something called “ataraxia”, which roughly corresponds to peace of mind, from what I can gather. They advocated a specific method of achieving this peace of mind through a method of inquiry. You start off with some kind of puzzle. For our purposes, we could compare this initial puzzle to the double bind. It’s some item which seems paradoxical or contradictory, and which leads one through a sort of endless loop if you try to use regular logic to solve it. So how did these guys escape the double bind? They investigated and argued both sides of the contradiction to such a point where they put equal weight and equal energy into both sides of the argument.

Then they would hold these contradicting elements firmly in mind until something happened. According to our quote from Levi-Strauss on mythic thinking, I would guess that they held it “until the intellectual impulse which has produced it is exhausted.” It’s not that they ever solved the paradox, it’s more like they just waited it out. They waited until their logical minds withered from ineffectuality. And then were left with suspension of judgement and peace of mind.

The question I’m left with is, how do we apply this to the “double bind of life” as Zeno Izen describes in this comment to my previous post:

Well, it sounds like what you’re (kind of) getting at is that life itself is kind of a double bind. You’re dropped here into life and there’s really no solid explanation of why you’re here or what you’re supposed to do. But still, here you are and you’ve got to do something. At any given moment, you can never feel completely assured that you’re doing the thing you’re supposed to do. Or if there’s anything that you’re supposed to do at all. The only certainty is doubt.

But then, maybe even doubt isn’t a certainty. How, like the ancient skeptics, can we both utterly doubtful and utterly hopeful until the dynamic conflict between the two subsides and the impulse to argue it dissipates? And how long does that really take on a grand scale?

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5 Reader Responses

  1. jp Says:

    This makes me think of a whole bunch of different things.

    First, it sounds like the ancient skeptics were keyed into the mystical tradition of “via paradoxis,” what we’ve referred to on this site and elsewhere as The Path of Radical Inquiry. Zen koans, Gnostic logia, Sufi parables, etc.– “puzzles” designed to get the learner to break free from the double-bind. Here’s one major benefit of the Via Paradoxis: each individual has to come up with his or her own solution for him or herself! There’s no way for someone to provide an answer for you, you have to provide your own answer. That’s why books on Zen koans that provide their “answers” can’t ever deliver enlightenment– they’re totally worthless!

    Secondly, it reminds me of “Hope in a Time of Abandonment” by Jacques Ellul, in which he creates a double-bind by “proving” that true hope is possible in utterly hopeless situations– if there’s even the slightest possibility that the thing you’re hoping for will happen, then you can’t really be hoping for it, ’cause a part of you is still prepared to accept it. We’re currently in a state where we’re abandoned by God (inasmuch as God no longer talks to us like he talked to the prophets) and hope is only possible by recognizing this complete abandonment.

    Finally, it reminds me of the concept of Divine Twinship. Since a double-bind is predicated on duality, breaking from the double-bind often necesitates transcending the duality. The ultimate double-binds are those in which we trap ourselves; they’re arguments between us and our “Divine Twins.”

    Just some random thoughts floating around . . . .

  2. prnsqlr Says:

    There are at miniumum three components in a double bind: prong one, prong two, and the thinker.

    Assume I am faced with an apparently impossible dilemma. I will take for example a classic one: does the world exist beyond what I perceive, or do I fool myself into thinking a world where there is no world?

    On one hand, I only know the world through my mind, which I know from experience is faulty and self-deceiving. Perhaps I have imagined Tim’s site out of whole cloth, if he did not exist, perhaps I have some deep-seated need to invent him to the degree that I imagine this very conversation and comment. Can I escape solipsism, which seems tantamount to nihilism?

    On the other hand, the world does seem to have a fairly coherent structure that persists and acts according to certain rules. I do find it hard to believe of my friends that “no one is home” (although there are some people who do seem indistinguishable from p-zombies or robots!)

    These two possibilities seem irreconcilable, and anyone who has taken them seriously will understand the dark places the conflict can lead your mind.

    The possibilities cannot be argued out of. A common answer is “Well, you might as well assume that there is a world, because the alternative is so unappealing.” This just avoids the question. We can rephrase and refine the two prongs, but it will ultimately lead us in circles.

    Does the world “in here” correspond to a world “out there”?

    The source of the conflict, is, of course, the “I”. It is the boundary between the inner and outer worlds, which we have tried to connect by logic. Since logic cannot move either prong to a position which solves the problem, only the thinker can change. He can change how he relates to the inner and outer worlds. He describes them with the same language he always has, but he interprets the words very differently, in a way he could not have put into words or even imagined before.

    “I” am as yet undecided as to whether the “I” can practically move itself in relation to the two prongs, or whether “outside intervention” (grace) is necessary.

    I say right now that probably both alternatives are incorrect, that this is another double bind. I can hold that possibility intellectually, but cannot say that the conflict is resolved. If the god wills, the Gordian knot will be cut and the error will be seen.

    The paradoxical figures of alchemy fulfill a similar function. Alchemists are continually exhorted to tell no one what they have found, for God alone has the right to reveal the secrets of God.

    The Sages rejoice
    From the bottom of their hearts;
    But they keep it a close secret,
    That no foolish man may know it.
    Yet unto their Sons, in kindness of heart,
    They partly reveal it in their writings;
    And therefore let those who receive the gift
    Enjoy it also in silence,
    Since God would have it concealed.

  3. james Says:

    Learning about the Skeptic school of philosophy in school is the reason why I subscribe to skeptic thought. Most people confuse skepticism with cynicism, but skepticism is open-minded while cynicism is closed-minded.

    My approach to life is “ataraxic” (if that’s even a proper use of the word) and it casts me as a hypocrite in the minds of others.

    To which I tell them, “The only consistancy in life is inconsistency.” I think that’s Montaigne, paraphrased, but it’s also another way of saying “The only certainty is doubt” without having to invest your beliefs in the concept of doubt. It doesn’t sound very attractive to be a “doubter” but that’s exactly what I am. And I’m firm about it– “doubting” sounds wimpy and spineless but it’s actually a rigid stance to take.

    In fact, some researchers have concluded that kids who are equipped to deal with ambiguity tend to be strong-willed and politically liberal:

    http://www.thestar.com/NASApp/cs/Conte...22231554&call_pageid=970599119419

    Keep in mind, the study was conducted in Berkeley…

  4. Tim Boucher Says:

    “The only consistancy in life is inconsistency.”

    Or it might not be, check this out, about Sextus Empiricus, Roman skeptic:

    He argued that to reach the state of ataraxia (approximately ‘peace of mind’), philosophers must first learn to ’suspend judgement’, that is, to believe to an equal degree any claim and its denial. Unlike the skeptics of Plato’s Academy, Pyrrhoneans did not think that nothing is knowable. The claim that nothing is knowable struck them as a sort of dogmatism. Instead, they suspended judgement about whether or not anything is knowable.

    Those guys were grade A bastards and really on to something, I think.

  5. The Gnostic Therapeutic Bind - Pop Occulture Says:

    […] at the intellectual impulses which created them are eventually dissipated and some kind of peace of mind is acquired. Or that’s the theory I&#8 […]



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