What Most People Get Wrong About Philosophy
The Dangers of Jumping to Conclusions
When we start exploring philosophy for the first time, we often begin by examining various philosophical positions and picking the ones we find ourselves most in agreement with.
Naturally, this was my experience starting out. I first approached philosophy as an eclectic: aligning myself with Advaita Vedanta, Buddhism, Hermeticism, and Neoplatonism in my college years, followed by Spiritual Naturalism in my early to mid 20s.
Though I still see no problem with exploring different philosophical views out of interest, I can see in retrospect how my approach to sketching out my own stance was almost entirely dogmatic.
The problem was that although I was learning a great deal about philosophy, I wasn’t thinking carefully or even deeply.
Rather, I had fallen for the same common mistake most people fall for when starting out: the infectious habit of shopping for conclusions.
I was treating philosophy like a buffet, picking and choosing the beliefs I wanted to integrate into my worldview. Except the ones I chose were like junk food, and consuming them only made me sick.
Looking back, I find it would have been far more helpful to instead treat philosophy like looking through a magnifying glass: as a process of inquiry instead of consumption.
Why should we approach philosophy this way? Because we all possess dogmas and underlying biases we’re unaware of, most of which were programmed into us when we were children. As a result, we’re more likely to accept philosophical positions that align with our already established beliefs.
But this is like writing a fictional story, and saying it’s true because you like it. By shopping for conclusions, we risk building a belief system that is false.
Philosophy should start with asking questions, not with merely absorbing information and accepting it uncritically.
I find it’s best to start by searching for the least dogmatic approach: seeking to understand how we can justify a belief, and then developing your views through utilizing your standard for justification.
To skip ahead of this step is to risk delusion. Thankfully, we will walk through exactly how to avoid falling for dogmatic arguments, so you can develop a philosophical stance that you can defend with confidence.
The Chain of Beliefs
Stick with me here, as this topic goes deep.
We’ve all disagreed with someone before.
Whenever you enter a disagreement of competing claims, you are usually expected to give reasons in support of your claim.
When asked why you believe the reasons you provided, any of those reasons should either be supported by another reason, or by something sufficient to justify that reason.
But what exactly would that thing be?
The Pyrrhonist philosophers of Ancient Greece were the first to show us that when we reach the end of a chain of reasons, we’re met with one of three options:
We make an assumption, or in other words, we simply establish that our belief is true by following the framework of “this belief is true” while giving no reasons to justify why that belief is true. But if we choose to rely on assumptions, then nothing prevents us from assuming the opposite. Assumptions are therefore not reliable for justifying beliefs.
We use circular reasoning, which means the belief is used to justify itself. This usually follows the framework of “this belief is true because this belief is true,” which results in the belief being passed around in a circle. But this is just repeating the same claim twice. Like assumptions, circular reasoning can be used to prove just about anything. Therefore, circularity isn’t a reliable option either.
We accept the chain of reasons must go on infinitely, and use that infinite chain to justify our belief. This is called an infinite regress, and follows the framework of “this belief is true because this other belief is true because this other belief is true,” and so on for infinity. But this gives us no place to begin or establish anything. Therefore, we cannot rely on regressive arguments to justify our beliefs.
This is sometimes referred to as the Agrippa problem1, named after the Pyrrhonist philosopher Agrippa. We know next to nothing about Agrippa, other than that he is credited with formulating this problem.
What Agrippa compiled was devastating for the other philosophical traditions of his time. What this meant was that no argument can avoid falling into one of the traps of assumption, circularity, or infinite regress. In other words, all arguments are dogmatic.
Now if this is coming across as self-refuting or impractical, bear with me as we will consider how to explore philosophy and make sensible decisions without dogma towards the end of this essay. But in the meantime, it helps to explore exactly why philosophers choose to remain dogmatists.
Many philosophers desire certainty so badly that they’re willing to accept assumptions, circular reasoning, or regressive arguments, instead of simply being honest with themselves that they’re unable to justify their dogmas. Resulting from this are three positions, each corresponding to one of the options in the Agrippa problem:
Foundationalism - chooses assumptions as the foundational basis for justifying beliefs.
Coherentism - embraces circular reasoning as the basis for justifying beliefs.
Infinitism - accepts the use of infinite regresses for justifying beliefs.
These topics are considerably esoteric (and are often approached this way), so I will do my best to avoid the pretentious jargon often found in academic discussions and make these positions readily understandable to readers who are new to philosophy.
No Solid Foundation
When I think of Foundationalism, I often imagine the familiar scenario of a child who continually asks “why?”, only for their frustrated parent to respond with “because I said so.”
The universality of this experience seems to indicate an instance where many of us have been conditioned to accept beliefs on the basis of assumptions from an early age.
Yet, contemporary approaches to Foundationalism at first glance seems far more sophisticated than the mere making of assumptions. The trick here is to use something that isn’t a belief to justify a belief as foundational: appearances.
But this is frankly a jump to conclusions. Over 2,000 years ago, it seems the Pyrrhonists had already pointed out the error of relying on appearances to make objective claims. In his now lost work, On Sensations, Timon of Phlius provides a helpful example regarding the taste of honey when he says:
“That honey is sweet I do not affirm, though I concede that it appears so.”2
In contrast, we can imagine a Foundationalist saying the honey appears sweet to them, and that it therefore is by nature, sweet. Though in doing so, the Foundationalist fails to explain the transition from subjective experience to objective knowledge. Simply perceiving something to be the case doesn’t mean it is the case.
But let’s say the Foundationalist doesn’t think the honey is sweet in an objective sense, but claims it is other appearances that justify foundational beliefs. Then how will they determine which appearances justify beliefs and which ones don’t?
In order to decide, Foundationalists must establish a criterion for determining the appearances that can be accepted.
But this presents another problem: how do we determine the proper criterion? Wouldn’t we need to first know which appearances justify beliefs first in order to construct it? Otherwise, aren’t we just basing this criterion on further assumptions?
It seems no matter what direction they take, the Foundationalist is forced to take a leap of faith.
Don’t Get Caught in the Web
Is there a way to justify beliefs without making dogmatic assumptions?
Coherentists think that instead of building our chain of beliefs on top of a foundation, we should instead rely on circular reasoning to justify our beliefs.
But the basic circular reasoning we’ve discussed is just a bad form of circularity according to Coherentists. As we’ll soon see, Coherentists are no different than Foundationalists when it comes to complicating fallacious reasoning in order to make it more believable.
Instead or a mere circle, most Coherentists argue we can instead weave a complex web of beliefs that are coherent with each other. If a belief is consistent with other beliefs within that web framework, Coherentists will say it’s justified.
In this case though, the beliefs still get passed around in a circles due to the web-like structure. But to Coherentists, this doesn’t matter, because what’s important is how well the web is woven.
Coherentism requires logical consistency. But how can we know if any human belief system is consistent? Aren’t we only able to access a handful of our beliefs at any given moment? Don’t we all hold at least some beliefs that are inconsistent without realizing it? Even if we think our beliefs are consistent, might we hold some inconsistent beliefs that we’re unaware of?
Because Coherentism is holistic, a single inconsistency could corrupt the entire system. So if consistency is required to justify a belief system, we might not be justified in believing in anything. Moreover, we can’t even determine whether this is the case, since it’s impossible for anyone to determine if all of their beliefs are consistent in the first place.
Despite this, multiple incompatible belief systems could be equally coherent. You could even build a fictional world that’s highly coherent, but that wouldn’t entail such a world is real. You simply can’t know something if it’s false. It seems then, that for a coherent system to be justified, it would at the very least have to be constructed in such a way that it could not be false.
But the Coherentists face another problem: since coherence is what justifies a belief, appearances can be completely disregarded, despite being evident to everyone.
We could say, for instance, that right now you believe you are reading and I believe I am walking (let’s just say I’m going on a walk at the moment).
In this scenario, let’s also say we both have perfectly coherent belief systems.
If we were both to switch our belief systems right now, they would remain coherent, but they would contradict what evidently appears to us.
This sounds quite silly. Even Pyrrhonists like Agrippa accepted appearances. For instance, we find Sextus Empiricus (the only Pyrrhonist whose works have survived) stating the following:
“For the Skeptic does give assent to the mental states that are forced upon him by an appearance; for example, when feeling hot (or cold) he would not say ‘I seem not to be hot (or cold).’”3
Sextus makes it clear: appearances force themselves upon us, thus no one seems to dispute them. Not only this, but we don’t even dispute those for whom things appear differently.
For instance, following Timon’s example regarding the taste of honey, Sextus notes how honey tastes sweet to healthy people but bitter to people with jaundice, and emphasizes how nobody would dispute this.
“For surely nobody would bring himself to say that honey does not taste sweet to healthy people and that it does not taste bitter to the jaundiced.”4
So generally, it seems we all agree on what appears to be the case. But Coherentism operates completely independent of this.
As a response, some Coherentists have attempted to give appearances a role by requiring a minimally acceptable system of beliefs about the appearances the subject is experiencing.
But how do we decide on a minimally acceptable system?
Like the Foundationalists, Coherentists must construct a criterion for deciding what’s minimally acceptable, and thus they would run into the problem of already needing to know what’s minimally acceptable in order to establish a criterion for deciding what’s minimally acceptable.
It seems that Coherentism collapses into Foundationalism in this case, as the Coherentist must assume what’s minimally acceptable. But Coherentists reject Foundationalism, therefore they are forced to reject Coherentism.
Falling Down the Rabbit Hole
The least popular response to the Agrippa problem is Infinitism, and it seems understandable why this is so. Around the 2nd century CE, Sextus illustrated the silliness of accepting such an approach:
“But it is impossible to prove an infinite number of things.”5
Similarly, it could be said that no one has an infinite number of beliefs. It seems then that this chain of beliefs would have to end in an assumption, making the Infinitist (like the Coherentist) a closet Foundationalist.
But the Infinitist would likely reply that beliefs corresponding with reality aren’t needed, but only beliefs that are available to the subject in order to continue constructing their chain of beliefs.
In other words, the chain is constantly being constructed. Infinitists thus find themselves falling down a rabbit hole, cherry picking new beliefs to support their already existing beliefs.
Follow What Appears
Going back to when I mentioned no argument can escape the Agrippa problem, I want to emphasize that I only used the word “argument”. I said nothing about observations.
When we describe what appears to us, we’re not making an argument, we’re simply stating what appears. And as I noted earlier, we’re all forced to accept appearances. Pyrrhonists are no exception.
Pyrrhonists also rely on appearances for things that most people rely on dogmatic beliefs for, such as everyday decision making.
For instance, sensations, thoughts, feelings, laws, customs, and skills are all things that appear to us. This is the kind of everyday knowledge we all accept, and the kind of knowledge that a Pyrrhonist embraces.
As an example, we could talk about a Pyrrhonist knowing dinner is being made because they smell it cooking. This doesn’t involve the kind of justification dogmatists demand, and if that same Pyrrhonist were to be pressed about whether they really know dinner is being made, they would simply retreat from the claim.
So even though Pyrrhonists won’t jump to conclude that any belief is justified, they may grant that a belief feels justified. This is a very mild kind of belief that completely rejects certainty. I’d say it’s an honest one.
But what does this mean for the rest of philosophy, is it still worth exploring?
I would say yes, but not in the way you might think.
Why 99% of Philosophy is Mental Illness
“When I told my four-year-old that I’m not a medical doctor, but doctor of philosophy, he retorted with: “is philosophy an illness?” — Mira ‘Assaf Kafantaris
So the Agrippa problem appears unanswerable; no theory of justification has ever been able to work around it, nor has any theory come close to doing so.
Yet, around 99% of philosophy seems to be built on assumptions, circular reasoning, and regressive arguments. Philosophers, for some reason, just can’t let go of the desire to employ these fallacious options.
Because of this, Pyrrhonists find the vast majority of philosophical views to be dogmatic.
Dogmatism also appears to fuel the vast disagreements in philosophy. We can see this in how people don’t dispute evident matters such as appearances, but disagree widely on non-evident dogmas.
Why is this the case?
Because you can use assumptions, circular reasoning, and regresses to prove virtually anything, which allows you to build any belief system you want. Because of this, the Pyrrhonist finds philosophical positions to be as diverse as all other works of fiction.
But when fiction is viewed as truth instead of art, it becomes dangerous.
Religious and political beliefs, for instance, are almost entirely justified by dogmas. Yet, disagreements among such belief systems fuel most of the conflict and violence we see in the world.
Dogmatism also harms us at the individual level. Looking back, I realize how approaching philosophy dogmatically has hurt me in the process. Here are some of the ways it has done this:
Vedanta and Neoplatonism polluted my mind with the vanity to see myself as a God, and led me astray from the humility to see myself as an imperfect human.
Buddhism (at least the versions I subscribed to) led me to set impossible expectations for myself, such as thinking I could stop having desires, that I could stop having thoughts, and that I could be completely free from suffering.6
Hermeticism made me susceptible to manipulation from con artists and persuaded me to engage in goofy occult practices that didn’t seem to do anything.
Naturalism led me to become a Pessimist and a Doomer, which I discuss in more detail in my first article.
All of this has shown me that dogmatism, and thus 99% of philosophy—is mental illness. Like how schizophrenia drives a patient to experience delusions, philosophy too, deceives us into accepting delusions.
Thankfully, Dr. Sextus7 has a cure for us: the cure by argument. By applying the Agrippa problem to our dogmatic beliefs, we can successfully purge ourselves of the dogmatic mind virus.
In this case, philosophy no longer becomes a disease, but medicine that helps us cultivate a healthy mind. The Pyrrhonists likened this to a cathartic drug that expels themselves along with the illness.
But this is not to say we shouldn’t explore or even appreciate philosophy either.
As a Pyrrhonist, I find I can now learn about philosophy out of interest. I no longer feel rushed to find “the truth” because it seems I’m unable to find it, neither do I feel disturbed by the need to defend a particular position. I can simply explore it.
This has made philosophy far more enjoyable for me, and I hope it does the same for you.
The problem is more commonly referred to as the Münchhausen trilemma, though I find this name discourteously fails to give credit where it’s due. The problem is also sometimes referred to as the Agrippan Trilemma or Agrippa’s Trilemma.
Diogenes Laërtius’ Lives of the Eminent Philosophers (9.105)
Outlines of Pyrrhonism (1.13)
Ibid. (1.11)
Ibid. (2.85)
There are many parallels between Buddhism and Pyrrhonism, and some have even made a case that Pyrrho (the founder of Pyrrhonism) got his ideas from Buddhists during his travels to India. Doug Bates in particular, is a Pyrrhonist that treats Pyrrhonism as Western version of Buddhism. He finds that Buddhism only started to work and make sense for him once he became a Pyrrhonist.
In addition to being a philosopher, Sextus was also a physician.