Scrutinizing Skepticism—Part 2

So some degree of skepticism and discernment can be very useful to us. You can hear, from time to time, public school officials talk about teaching children the skills of “critical thinking,” of helping kids to become discerning young people. They usually mean teaching children to think for themselves, to be judicious, aware, observant. That sounds nice, but in fact that is quite different from what most public schools actually do; they encourage just one way of considering things (dogma), promote complete acceptance of authority, and then test students in a manner that inculcates in them the belief that they are either right or wrong in response to questions (that is, there are no shades of gray or even alternative viewpoints to the authorized one). That's not critical thinking.

Considering the arguments above, it seems to me that they offer an explanation of why certain segments of society—most often the pious and faithful—have traditionally disapproved of skeptics: skeptical ideas and doubt can threaten their beliefs. 
 
In fact, throughout history, neither the state nor religious people have been sympathetic to skeptics, because they cast doubt on society's beliefs. Especially in America, where the state and Christianity hold many of the same convictions, skepticism is often not welcome—sometimes along with its cohorts, discernment and critical thinking. At least we have not yet come to the point where we methodically jail skeptics, as they do in Turkey and China.

I believe there is another kind of person who also thinks skeptically, as well as discerningly; they are called prophets. Throughout history prophets have doubted and questioned the beliefs and behavior of mainstream society. When they've spoken up about their views and challenged orthodoxy, they've often become even less popular than skeptics.

Furthermore, I also think that a historian can benefit from a good dose of skepticism. My favorite historian for several years now is Yuval Noah Harari, who teaches history at Hebrew University in Israel and has written two profound books: Sapiens and Homo Deus. (In fact, I discovered Harari in a MOOC he taught several years ago.) Harari examines history through the eyes of a skeptic. He's both discerning and a very clear thinker. Years of lengthy meditation retreats have sharpened his mind. His particular strength is to examine history, connect the dots, and then interpret current events with that knowledge. That's the nature of his first book (Sapiens) listed above. He then goes on in the second book (Homo Deus) to connect the dots of today's events and then project what the future will be like.

So, I believe skepticism and a dose of doubt offers me some valuable thoughts on how to perceive the world around me. Healthy doubt can be useful—especially when coupled with careful examination of that world, and furthered by a good dose of curiosity. I can become a skeptic, without having to become a card-carrying atheist, or without denying the possibility of possessing any kind of knowledge; because skepticism is not necessarily about distrust or being a heretic. It's just as much about curious inquiry and discernment. So let those kids in school be taught critical thinking. Maybe they'll even grow up to become moderate skeptics

Three Ancient Teachers—Part 2

The second message: Democritus' atomistic and natural teachings interestingly connect directly into my second point: death is not what people fear or say that it is. This second idea was promulgated primarily by my second Greek teacher, Epicurus. Starting with the concept of atoms and how that led to the idea that our world can be understood by natural events, he came to the conclusion that previous beliefs that the world was governed by supernatural forces were wrong. In his time, supernatural meant that the gods were the driving force in the world—the gods decided (often in their capricious manner) how things were constructed and how they behaved. Later (in the West) the Greek and Roman gods were replaced by the sole Abrahamic God.

If the gods are in charge of our existence, then we are susceptible to their will. Our lives are literally controlled by their whims and wishes... and there wishes are often whimsical. Epicurus said, however, that there are natural explanations for it all; it's not the gods stringing us along, thus our lives are really in our own hands. We are in control and are responsible for ourselves. This is a very liberating idea! 

Those who believed that the gods ruled, believed that their lives—and their deaths—were dictated supernaturally. More to the point, what happened to you after your death, was also in the hands of the gods. If they wished, they could torment you forever, and you had little alternative, except to try your best to curry their favor in this life. Epicurus saw that the anxiety over this belief caused people a lot of torment and filled them with fear.

A more modern expression of this concept has recently been offered by Yuval Harari, the Israeli author of a recent groundbreaking book, Sapiens. He makes the point that, in recent centuries, modern interpretations no longer see death as the fundamental source of meaning of life. Previous beliefs—from Christians all the way back to the Romans and Greeks—held that the meaning of life comes from what happens to you after death. Instead, he maintains that modern ideologies—such as socialism, liberalism, feminism, and communism—teach us that life has meaning on its own; we don't need death for meaning. It is interesting that my three favorite philosophers reached this modern conclusion millennia ago. It's yet another way that shows they were far ahead of their time.

Epicurus felt that he had—through his natural explanations of the world—shown that belief in an afterlife was unfounded. There are no supernatural events—in this world or the hereafter. You live and then you die. Quit fearing what will happen after you die, since there will be no you. Put your attention to what you're doing while you are alive. I don't think he actually said it, but one message I take from his teaching is, regardless of what happens after I die, if I put attention toward living a moral life, I'll be OK. The main point: I can take comfort in the fact that I will not be tricked by the gods. Epicurus in fact never denied the existence of the gods—he simply maintained that they have their own affairs to attend to, so why should they waste time tormenting humans? In today's monotheistic worldview, I feel the same. I neither believe in nor deny the existence of God. If there is a God, I can't see why God would bother with my trivial life. It's my responsibility to use it wisely and morally, or lose it. Why would God interfere?

The third message: Live simply, rather than pursue money or power. This idea follows quite closely from the first two propositions. If we're all made of atoms and thus are all united (are all made of the same stuff), what does that tell me about how to treat my world and my fellow humans? If I abuse my world, am I not abusing myself? Democritus, Epicurus, and Lucretius all reached the same conclusion: that treating our world with respect means that we should live a frugal life. To exploit the world in search of wealth is simply selfish and wrong.

We are part of the natural world. We live and die, as all creatures do. We need not fear death or the gods. So how do I fit most sensibly into this incredible world? I do so by having regard for it; by nurturing it and my fellow creatures. These three masters realized that this truth of our being an integral part of the natural world meant that we share the same aims all creatures do: to seek happiness and contentment, while avoiding pain and suffering. Living simply and frugally is an excellent way to achieve those aims.