Posted by Holly Ordway in Apologetics | 0 Comments
Fire and Ice: The Consequences of Radical Skepticism
“It’s all relative.” How many times have we heard statements like that? “Some people believe in Jesus, and that works for them, but, you know, other people don’t, and that’s OK, because it’s all relative.”
Wait a minute! “Belief” by itself is meaningless: what matters is whether the thing we believe in (or not) exists (or doesn’t). If there is something objective that we call Truth, it exists independently of our knowledge of it – it is not a matter of perspective. Thus, if there is such a thing as Truth, we should expect consequences when we act in ways contrary to that truth.
I grew up on the East Coast, and now live on the West Coast, so I’m going to use a climactically mixed metaphor involving both a frozen pond (very Massachusetts-y) and a wildfire (characteristically Southern Californian).
Consider a pond that has frozen over in the winter. I used to go ice skating on ponds like that as a kid in Massachusetts. Is the ice safe to walk on? The importance of the answer depends on why you want to know.
Scenario 1: If you just want to go ice skating, the safety of the ice is not an urgent question. You can err on the side of caution and go sledding instead on the hill behind you. (Or, if you live in Southern California, you can go to the beach.)
Scenario 2: However, imagine that a forest fire has broken out on the wooded slope behind you. The shortest route to safety is across the frozen surface of the pond. Now it matters a great deal whether the ice is safe or not. If it is thick enough, you can easily and quickly make your way to safety. If, however, you know that the ice is too thin, you will have to proceed along the water’s edge, a longer and more dangerous route (but necessary, if you are to have any chance to save yourself.)
Scenario 3: You are seated at the pond’s edge, and a friend texts you that a major wildfire has broken out in the forest. According to this friend, the fire is burning so rapidly that it will certainly encircle you before you can walk out along the edge of the pond. The only way to safety is to cross the pond, on the ice.
We thus have three questions:
- Is the ice thick enough to walk on safely?
- Do you believe your friend’s warning?
- Should you leave the party and cross the ice?
The first question is simply factual. The ice either is, or is not, thick enough to bear your weight. If the ice is too thin, then as you walk acros, the ice will break, and you will fall into the icy water and drown. It doesn’t matter whether you were believed that it was thick enough – sorry, the ice breaks, you fall in, goodbye. It also doesn’t matter whether the fire was a real threat or not. The fire could have been completely real – you would have burned to death if you had stayed. It might be that no matter what you did, you would come to a bad end (burned or drowned). Reality isn’t always nice.
Conversely, if the ice is thick enough to walk on safely, then you will be able to cross to safety – regardless of your belief. If you step out onto the ice with a heart full of doubt, the ice will hold you up just the same as if you set foot with complete confidence.
Your state of mind does not change the thickness of the ice. It either is, or is not, thick enough to hold your weight. However, your state of mind does have a significant effect on the outcome of your little adventure, because it influences your response to questions 2 and 3, which involve judgment and action.
First, if you have good reason to believe that the friend’s report is reliable, then the question of whether the ice is strong enough takes on more importance. If you trust your friend, you may cross despite your doubts about the thickness of the ice, because the alternative (being burnt up) is both worse and quite likely.
However, if you dismiss your friend’s warning, then you will not cross the ice, even though (had you tried) you would have found it strong enough. For your sake, you had better hope that the fire was a false alarm, or that the path along the edge of the pond is good enough to make it to safety, because if not – you’ll die. The wildfire will not considerately bypass you because you didn’t believe that it existed.
Finally, we can see that in all these scenarios, decision is required. Do you go out onto the ice, or not? Even doing nothing is itself a decision – in the first scenario, a decision that the fun of ice-skating is not worth the risk; in the second and third scenarios, a decision that the report of the friend is unreliable, or a decision that death by fire is better than risking death by drowning in an icy pond.
You might say, “Well, maybe there’s a fire, and maybe there’s not – maybe it’s just a little fire, not a big one. We can’t know. And maybe the ice is thick enough, and maybe it’s not – I can’t really say.” Your skepticism won’t harm you if the friend is mistaken and there’s no fire. However, if there is a fire, a serious one, radical skepticism about it (and about the safety of the ice) is not just a foolish but indeed a life-threatening attitude. The next day’s newspaper headline will read: “Foolish Winter Tourist Burnt to a Crisp in Tragically Avoidable Circumstances.”
Such is our place in the world. What we believe directs how we act, and our action (and inaction) has consequences. A position of extreme skepticism is no defense against reality – and in fact, in ordinary life, skepticism run amok has consequences that are no less disastrous, if more subtle, than an icy or fiery death.
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