At the entrance of an establishment, there was a long queue of men and women desirous of getting in. One by one they went past an idle and indifferent-looking attendant, and disappeared into the building. One man suddenly stopped and asked the attendant if he may pass as well. The attendant replied that he may not. The dismayed man respectfully asked why he had not stopped the other individuals. ‘Because none of them asked me,’ the attendant explained.
The above is usually narrated (and heard) as an amusing story. It ceases to be funny when one realizes the (all too real) identities of the various characters involved. The individuals who were carrying on with their business without asking for the permission of the attendant were ordinary folks, the man who decided to ask the attendant’s permission, and to defer to his judgment, was your self-proclaimed intellectual, while the attendant was an epistemologist.
What with the numerous challenges it throws your way at every juncture, life is plenty difficult as it is. But in case you want to make it any more difficult, you need not look any farther than the nearest epistemologist. The epistemologist represents the very summit of intellect among his species – the significance of which can only be fully appreciated by recalling that ‘homo sapiens’ literally means ‘wise man’. Philosophers with an epistemological bent have an impressive track record of unfailingly making matters more difficult than they need to be. Consider the following examples:
There is an implicit agreement (always has been) among all but the diabolical or moronic elements in every society that man is responsible for how he chooses to act. The whole world works based on this consensus. Free will (within reasonable limits) is therefore a given, which forms the basis for praise and disapproval, and promotion and demotion in schools, universities, the workplace and the society in general. The agreement also happens to be the premise behind the law enforcement and the judicial systems in place everywhere. This is the case while we are still in the practical or the common-sense domain, or until somebody asks an epistemologist – whichever comes first. For an epistemologist will likely tell you that when you choose to run a red light, it is not of your own volition but that evolution and forces beyond your control have conspired to force your hand, absolving you of all moral responsibility. If the epistemologist happens to be Hume, he will not only dismiss responsibility, but will also throw out of the window the very notion of ‘self’ as a unique identity of a permanent agent responsible for the thoughts and actions of an individual.
There are certain things in life that no sensible individual ever doubts. That is why men do not keep getting in the way of speeding cars and eating poisonous substances. Every language has an equivalent to the expression ‘plain as day’ for such obvious facts of life. Arabic and Urdu replace ‘day’, with ‘sun’; in Japanese, it is ‘fire’ instead. What could be more indisputable than the sun, fire or a bright day in plain sight? And yet, if you are reckless enough to ask an epistemologist, he is sure to find a way to cast serious doubts on such facts even if he does not outright reject them.
Why, if epistemologists have their say (in other words, if they are taken seriously enough) they will render a man’s own existence in serious doubt – even for himself! A man’s first-hand experience of his own existence is as unmistakable as his experience of the sun, or fire – probably even more so. Unless he happens to be an epistemologist. In that case, he may still acknowledge self-existence (‘I am’), but not before introducing the (totally unnecessary, but impressive sounding) proviso ‘because I think’.
Nobody who has lived long enough and who is not totally brain-dead can entertain the slightest doubt about the death, sooner or later, of any given individual S howsoever hale and hearty. This conclusion, whether or not one puts it in so many words, is arrived at by a direct and simple application of induction from the experience that nobody has ever known a man who lived forever. Trust an epistemologist, however, to deem it necessary to introduce a fancy major premise (‘all men are mortal’) and a minor premise (about S) in order to coin a syllogism so as to arrive at the very same conclusion about S. If the motive behind these mental gymnastics happens to be the preference on the part of the epistemologist for deduction over induction, the whole exercise is hardly worth the effort. For the aforementioned major premise itself has been inferred from a large (but finite) number of specific cases, and is therefore inductive in nature. Besides, what is the utility of the syllogism (and the minor premise) when the major premise (which declares all men to be mortal) already includes S, if it is not meant merely to be a parade of logic? In fact, (if I am allowed the use of some logic of my own) it is blatant circular thinking to first state (without first ascertaining that S is mortal) that all men are mortal, and then using that very premise to declare that S must be mortal too.
The above is by no means an exhaustive survey. Examples could be multiplied indefinitely; but time and space do not permit that kind of luxury. In summary, while the epistemologists pride themselves on their facility for logic, they usually end up being too clever for their own good by not seeing the forest for the trees. With their obscure thinking and convoluted arguments, they do a great disservice to themselves and to their followers by making matters unnecessarily complicated. By discouraging the use of common sense, they often end up subscribing to and advocating extremely absurd and impractical ideas. Aiming for extraordinary perception, they typically end up being blind to the most indisputable facts of life.
Whom the gods would destroy, they first make epistemologists. Or self-styled intellectuals, who look up to those epistemologists for guidance, and who defer to their judgments. May God save us from either fate, amen!
