That Which Seems True and the Phenomenology of Belief

In his defense of religious exclusivism, Alvin Plantinga gives a somewhat tangential mention of a phenomenology that attends belief (citation at end). In this post, I am not interested in speaking to Plantinga’s defense of exclusivism, but I do want to consider this phenomenology of belief he mentions. To whit, it seems to me that if we believe something, part of why we believe that something is because it strikes us as true. That is, it seems true to us. This phenomenon of seeming true (or, false, for that matter) is not wholly within our control. Why does that matter? Well, for me, I have struggled to find ways to clarify my understanding of not only the experience of belief, but also the humility that it seems should attend belief. Something Plantinga says in that defense has helped me understand these better.

So Plantinga: “What is internally available to the believer also includes the phenomenology that goes with the beliefs in question; the sensuous phenomenology but also the nonsensuous phenomenology involved, for example, in the belief’s just having the feel of being right.”

The reader will have to forgive me for not spending time on the context of this claim. To do so would be to carry us far away from our intended target. My sole interest is in considering the nonsensuous phenomenology of a belief’s having a feel of being right. I know exactly what Plantinga speaks of here and I have been trying to say something to that effect for some time.

For example, it is often (very often) the case that I will hear an argument, or claim, and I will get the sense that something is not quite right. I can’t put my finger on just what it is, but something doesn’t feel right. And conversely, I have had the same experience where a claim seems clearly right, but I have neither a clear understanding nor words for saying why it seems right. In time, as I wrestle with that claim, it will sometimes happen that I will come to a clearer understanding of why it had a feel of being right (or not right-given the case). However, sometimes I just have the feeling without the clarity.  

When I say something doesn’t “feel” right I do not mean feeling in terms of an emotion, nor even in terms of pain or pleasure. It is not sensuous in that way. It is simply a kind of sense that something is right or not quite right-as the case may be. Of course, in these examples we are thinking of special cases that merely amplify what is always there. What is always there, phenomenologically speaking, is the sense that something is or is not right (is true or is not false, good or not good, etc.).    

No matter what it is we believe, we believe it because it strikes us a true. This seems to be the case whether we have good reasons for believing it or not. I can be presented with a whole host of reasons for believing p is true, and yet if p does not strike me as true it will be of no consequence one way or the other.

We cannot simply decide something is going to strike us as true, nor can we always predict what it is we will believe. Consider again some proposed truth claim p. As Plantinga might put it, I can try my level best to believe p. I can consider all the evidence in regards to p. I can work my way diligently through all the arguments in favor of p. And yet, in many cases, no one will be able to know (predict/guess) whether or not the end of these deliberations will result in my belief that p is true.

I say “in many cases” because there are some clear exceptions. Clearly the deliverances of mathematics are an exception. If you do not clearly see that 2+2=4, I will be concerned that you either have misunderstood what it means or you unfortunately have some kind of cognitive malfunction. The deliverances of mathematics are the strongest exceptions. A close runner up would be basic logical principles such as the law of contradiction.

Also, the deliverances of the various scientific methods are to be considered exceptions, with a caveat. The obviousness of the deliverances of the various scientific methods comes by degrees. At one end of the scale there is something close to obviousness, at the other end we have much room for disagreement. It should be obvious, all things being equal and understood, that water is composed of molecules that in turn consist of two hydrogen atoms and a single oxygen atom. It may not be as obvious that the benefits of drinking coffee are as such-and-such a study claims. At any rate, in all of these (math, logic, and the sciences), there will be a good chance of guessing correctly what my resulting belief will be.

You will probably guess correctly that I will come to the conclusion that 2+2 in fact equals 4. You will probably guess correctly that I will conclude that some A cannot be both A and not-A. And you will probably guess correctly that I will agree that at sea level water boils at about 212 degrees F (assuming we scientifically discover this conclusion).     

So those are the exceptions. What are not exceptions, by any stretch of the imagination, are many of the claims that concern ethics, religion, and other more “philosophical” pursuits. What you and I believe in regards to these is always a matter of debate. You may present me with some religious claim p and I can do my level best to believe p, but you will not be able to predict if such a belief will obtain for me.

In these cases, I will believe p if and only if p strikes me as true. And, even I will not be able to predict if p will seem true to me. There is a great mystery to this phenomenon. Let’s assume I do believe p. Even if I can offer reasons for why I believe p, there is still some possible world where I know those same reasons and yet do not believe p. Belief in p is not necessary for me.

Again, there is something involved here that is not wholly dependent on me. I cannot just pull myself up by my bootstraps and believe just any old thing I want to believe. There is an important sense in which we can say the truth of p happens to me. This is what makes it phenomenological. There is a phenomenon I can observe where either p seems true to me or it doesn’t. I can even observe a change where once I believed p and now I don't. But, what I cannot do is simply manufacture that change on my own.

This is where humility comes into play. When it comes to belief there is something that happens to me that I have no control over. It is true that I can try to believe, but no guarantee I will. If this is the case for others as it is for me (and we assume it is the case), then humility is in order. As long as I recognize this phenomenon, then I can expect from others only what I expect from myself. What I expect from myself is to try my level best when it comes to these most important matters of religion, ethics, and the like. I must do my level best to reside in the truth as these matters are concerned. But I can only believe what seems true to me. You can only believe what seems true to you. We are the same in this matter even if we disagree.              

 For the work mentioned above:

Alvin Plantinga, “A Defense of Religious Exclusivism”; found in Philosophy of Religion: An anthology, ed. Louis Pojman and Michael Rea; Wadsworth,; 2012; pp. 646-47.