God could be a nuclear submarine; but who cares? [2/7/17: Part 2 of Camus’s The Fall, Søren Kierkegaard’s “On Becoming a Christian”]

            Hello again, folks.  This one could be a bit messy; but I don’t think it’s possible to fully treat some of the ideas here without, well, writing an extended essay or book.  These are gestures, tags; perhaps I’ll be able to follow through on them in a more extended form later.

            Clamence doesn’t actually want a second chance, because he knows he won’t take it.  He knows he’s still the same egocentric person who didn’t break step at a potential suicide.  That’s why he’s here, at Mexico City, holding court and trying to show everyone that they’re just as bad as him:  so he can feel that none are above him.  It wouldn’t be so necessary if he felt he’d changed or was actively seeking redemption.

            Redemption is, to me, inherently subjective.  It is defined by some observer, perhaps oneself, believing that one has done wrong and must balance the scales or demonstrate change.  It’s a question of belief in identity; and, though we may easily talk about how it’s “inefficient” or “unhealthy” or “illogical,” it is much easier to say these things than to change one’s self-concept at the drop of a hat.  I don’t we can choose our beliefs, at least, not entirely; or we cannot entirely choose the set of possibilities that seem plausible to us.  I believe that Barack Obama was the 44^th U.S. President, and that there is such a thing as water, and human life is important; and there’s little that I could do to convince myself otherwise.  To be honest, the idea that one can choose one’s own beliefs seems to me absurd.  Explain depression to me, if, at any point, one can simply say, “I am worthwhile and good, and I enjoy my life,” and simply be done with it.  We may pretend to master our faculties and sentiments, but it is ever a lie.

            I won’t pretend to perfectly understand Kierkegarrd, but I feel confident that he has little time for epistemology.  Nonetheless, I think it’s important to address our class discussion around knowledge of God by means of demonstrating that it doesn’t really matter.  To wit:  you can’t absolutely (indubitably, unquestionably) prove anything.  You can’t prove that God isn’t a nuclear submarine.

            You disagree?  Please, demonstrate from indubitable first principles that God isn’t a nuclear submarine.  Go on, I’ll wait.

            Back so soon?  God can’t be a nuclear submarine because nobody believes he/she/zhe/it is, or because no religion says anything about it?  Well, what does that matter?  Who says human belief has anything to do with the actual shape of the universe?  Please, prove that our words and our books contain any truth at all.  This could all be a hallucination, you know.  You could be dreaming, or in the Matrix, or the victim of some terrible demon (to borrow Descartes’s argument) that is determined to feed you false sensory output at every turn.  You could be an eight-thousand-armed space squid in a coma, imagining all of this.  I might be a particularly talkative figment of your imagination.  God might be a nuclear submarine passing your comatose squid-form in the night.  Absolute knowledge requires the ability to indubitably rule out all alternatives; and, since you can’t prove a negative, you can’t do that.

            It’s the basic solipsistic argument.  You can’t be certain of anything except for your own existence; and, as of such, you can’t be sure you know anything about God (or about potatoes or dump trucks, or the existence of either, for that matter).  All, or nearly all, of our knowledge is contingent or dubitable.  You can’t prove that God exists.  You can’t prove that God doesn’t exist.  And you know what?  It doesn’t matter.

            Because really, why should we aspire to some unachievable certainty?  Do you demand that you be certain you’re not going to trip before you take a step?  That you won’t get food poisoning if you eat something?  That you won’t get in an accident if you drive your car?  Uncertainty is inherent to human affairs.  Forget about absolute theological proof, forget about being right, and just live.

            That’s not to utterly reject all forms of study, of course; everything, or most everything, has utility (contingent, uncertain utility, but that’s no different from everything else).  But the point is that the experience of God, or of life, or of cheeseburgers, is much more important than the (impossible) proof.  Does it matter if one’s religion is actually right or wrong, if it brings happiness and purpose to one’s life, leads one to help and be kind to others, and makes one’s community function?  Is happiness any less real if based upon uncertainty rather than proof?  Life is directed action, and no direction is inherently better than any other; yet we must choose nonetheless.  The alternative is to drift, meaningless, uncaring, as Kierkegaard’s aesthete.  Pick a direction.  Create meaning with your gaze.  Live, and be happy, and understand that your preferences need not the weight of universal law.