Clarity and Confusion

Richard Ostrofsky
(April, 1998)
If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but
if he be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in
certainties.
– Francis Bacon, The Advancement of Learning

Was Bacon correct? As between confusion and wrong-headed clarity, which

is better? Is it better to meet a difficult problem with mistaken but very
definite ideas, or with no ideas at all? Which makes the better starting point:
a sharp but defective understanding, or an open mind?
This is not a simple question. In very many practical situations, the
sharp, defective understanding is preferable. In battle or in a board room, a
crisp order, confidently given, almost always gets the better results.
Commanders who allow their uncertainty to show soon lose the confidence
of their troops. It is easier to follow a psychotic leader over a cliff than to
follow a sane and honest leader who takes too long to make up his mind.
History affords endless examples of this phenomenon; and however much
we might wish that groups of human beings behaved less like flocks of
sheep, the effect is easy enough to understand.
Even in purely intellectual matters, there is much to be said for sharp,
defective understanding. As every teacher knows, it is usually easier to help
the student with wrong ideas than the student with none. A student with
wrong ideas can be exposed to better ones, and is then quite likely to correct
himself. The student with no ideas may not be willing to think about the
subject, and may never have learned to think at all!
In science itself, the situation is not quite as Bacon described. The
scientist does not proceed by gathering facts with an entirely open mind.
Rather, he takes a guess at the truth and then proceeds to test it. By this
method he hopes to arrive at a hypothesis that will stand up over time, and
may be taken as true for all practical purposes. He does not confuse his
working hypothesis with Truth itself. But neither does he proceed in the
condition of doubt that Bacon (and later Descartes) recommended. His
working state might be called one of provisional undersanding: However
committed he may have become to some particular hypothesis in the course
of his professional life – however much his personal reputation may have
become associated with it, and however much confidence he feels that his
commitment is well placed – he must not allow himself to forget that some
bright graduate student, even now, may be performing the experiment that
refutes it.
Regarding controversial issues, this ethic of provisional understanding
becomes still more urgent. Given that several conflicting views of a matter
are tenable, individuals need to maintain firm commitments to their own
viewpoints and opinions, without dismissing their adversaries as fools or
knaves (unless they earn these epithets on other grounds than mere
disagreement). On any controversial matter, we have to grasp that it is
entirely possible for others to reject our positions without being either
stupid or wicked. This is not an easy lesson to learn, but it is absolutely vital
if anything like Reason is to prevail in a complex, poly-cultural society.
We cannot live in the condition of permanent doubt. We need personal
understandings, and must commit our fortunes and our very lives to those
understandings on a daily basis. At the same time, we are dimly beginning
to realize that our understandings are not necessarily True – that other
understandings are possible, and perhaps just as good as ours – and that
these will seem much better to persons committed to them, as we are to our
own. To put it a little differently, we are discovering the possibility and need
for cognitive commitment without real belief that what we are committed to
is True. It is like being married – where, after a certain time, your mate no
longer seems so very special, except for the peculiar fact of being yours.
Which, of course – if you are lucky – makes that person absolutely unique.
How does one manage this type of commitment? From an
epistemological standpoint, as a state of knowledge, how does one even
describe it? It is not a state of confusion, because you are sustained and
guided by the ideas you cling to; but it is not a state of clarity either,
because you are constantly being reminded, and cannot honestly deny, that
some other ideas might serve just as well or better. It is not even some kind
of cognitive investment, because these commitments own and use us in a
more profound sense than we can be said to own and use them. Perhaps the
metaphor of “understanding” is the best we can do: Such commitments may
best be compared to the ground under our feet, as that which lies beneath,
and supports our stance.