…
D: Of course I speak about religion. This old and hardworking institution laid the foundations of society and, like all other systems of knowledge, has grown old and become a cliché repeated by everyone. It stands as an example of how poets and clergy have exploited language. As a cautionary tale, and as a producer of simple gap-fillers for unanswered questions, it still serves a function. Long live religion—but within its own domain.
Y: Didn’t we just say that everyone is a child in some areas? Isn’t philosophy useful for non-professionals as well?
D: Just as you want to be treated without being a medical professional, you should also receive treatment in the use of reason without being a professional philosopher. Using reason is, we might say, a form of cognitive diligence that runs parallel to language use. It is not entirely language, though, because we still do not know what language itself is contained within—that is, we do not know its higher category.
Y: Language was taught to Adam by God.
D: Come on now, don’t speak as if you know what you don’t know. At least say it was said to have been taught.
Y: The reason I state it propositionally is that not everyone needs to know the origin of language. I mean, there is something divine involved, and we express it through human language—in the form of subject, object, and predicate.
D: If the divine exists, it must also be natural. If we cannot see the divine, then let us at least see the natural. Let us not deliberately resort to ignorance. Let us speak about what is known.
Y: But I know this.
D: No, you believe it. Claims that cannot be explained or whose truth cannot be checked are not even opinions; they are beliefs. And belief is trust without requiring evidence.
Y: Then what is not belief? Which claim can you justify with absolute certainty?
D: That’s actually a very good point. Every claim contains an element of belief—that is, trust beyond proof. But then why not increase the amount of justification and, consequently, reliability?
Y: Everyone is obliged, in some matters, to believe more—to ignore fields in which they are not experts and fill the gaps with ready-made answers.
D: Fine, but at least let us not be like that among ourselves. Let us improve as much as possible, especially in those capacities that concern what it means to be human.
Y: You seem a little impatient. You treat life as though it were only your own. Leave some of it to your grandchildren.
D: “Comrade, what you call belief is an ideological superstructure, a way by which the ruling class manages the epistemic self. And the phrase leave it to the grandchildren is rhetoric for postponing social struggle. It has been said in every age; change has always been deferred to the next generation. Increase evidence, institutionalize criticism, allow falsification; leave the rest not to your grandchildren but to the structure itself.”
Y: The most valuable thing to leave behind is not a structure but good character. Besides, the capacities you call ‘human virtues’—patience, gratitude, excellence of conduct (ihsan)—in which laboratory are you going to prove those?
M: I would rather emphasize the common ground that has emerged so far. We cannot know everything, but neither can we simply sit and do nothing. You both agree that our knowledge is insufficient. What you disagree on is how to deal with that ignorance. One of you defends fate, the other free will; life listens to neither. No one is entirely right, yet everyone has a right to speak. We seem like human beings who manage the difficult but stumble over the easy. Faced with a situation in which an extraordinary instrument proves inadequate, we are bewildered. Perhaps what we should be striving for is a better understanding of the instrument of language itself.
