Areopagite,
While I appreciate your…er, zeal…to continue our conversation line-by-line, I have neither the time nor the energy nor the desire to respond line-by-line.
Can you pick one point that you’re really, really interested in and present a really strong argument for?
I’ll start by picking this particular point of yours:
Evidence-based inquiry relies on the mind’s ability to interpret the senses correctly. However, you have cited examples where the mind fails to do this.
Yes. It’s not totally and completely infallibale. It’s
consistently reliable, and we know this from observing its operation and its results.
And incidentally, the way we learn that we’ve made a mistake about reality is to use
evidence – we have no other way of learning that we’ve been wrong, so I really don’t know where you’re going with this. You are affirming evidence-based inquiry as the only tool we have to get this job done.
You first need faith in your mind’s ability to interpret reality before you can accept evidence-based inquiry. This is pretty obvious if you think about it.
What you’re describing isn’t “faith” – you are describing what is sometimes called a “necessary assumption,” but I personally don’t even think that it rises to the level of assumption.
For me, this whole business is definitional.
Let’s get our terms straight. Your experience of the world is obviously subjective, and reality – in terms of your experience – is whatever happens to be presenting itself to you at any given time. If I see a sandwhich, I am experiencing the sight of a sandwhich. Even if the sandwhich turns out to be an illusion, it’s a real illusion (if it wasn’t a real illusion, I wouldn’t be experiencing it).
There’s no “faith” required. What you experience is real, even if it’s a real illusion.
There’s another meaning of the word reality: “Existing independently of any one person’s thoughts about it.” Within my perfectly subjective experience, I am more than capable of drawing a distinction between things that seem to exist just for me and things that seem to exist independently of me.
When I forget to turn off a light and leave it on all day and find it still on when I come home; when I throw a match onto a grill, walk away, and then come back later to find it still burning; when I start cooking something, get distracted, and a fire starts when I’m out of the room – all these experiences and many more testify to the fact that things apparently happen when I’m not around and that there’s stuff that isn’t dependent on my thoughts – this stuff is what I label as “reality” under this second definition.
I’m not attributing any metaphysical significance to anything. I’m experiencing stuff and attaching labels to those experiences so that I can discuss it with others (who are apparently separate from me).
I can experience a ghost – that is, have a hallucination or dream of a ghost that is real in the first sense – that is not real in the second sense. It isn’t a matter of “faith” at all – for any experience I have, I can soberly analyze the evidence for and against thinking that what I have experienced [which is real in the first sense] is (likely) real in the second sense or not.
In day to day life, this is trivially easy. I don’t have a problem distinguishing between the imaginary dragon in my mind and the sight of the computer screen in front of me. They are entirely different kinds of experiences, and anyone who hasn’t learned how to distinguish them has a lot of catching up to do.
Now the mind doesn’t just simply go around perceiving stuff, that’s true. The senses take in too much data for the mind to process, so the mind forms a representation or model of the world based on sensory data. It’s easy for that model to get a little screwed up because all of us naturally pay more attention to the model than we do to our actual senses. That’s why it’s so common to miss proofreading errors or miss minor changes in a room we pass through all the time – our mind filters out anything deemed not necessary for the model.
But so what? We can be wrong about little details, but our models agree to an incredible extent, especially when we start paying attention to our senses (instead of the models). We might miss a typo on the page, but we have a lot of good reasons to think that it’s a page and not a hamburger. For example, not only does it not have any of the properties of a hamburge – as far as anyone can detect – no one comes up to us when we’re reading in a crowded place and says, “Hey buddy, why are you staring at that hamburger?”
Frankly, I don’t see where “faith” enters the picture one tiny bit. If I were to believe that the thing that looks like a page and has all the qualities of a page is
really a hamburger – when no one else at all seems to think it is a hamburger – that would take an act of faith.