Writing Right with Dmitri: Writer Agnosticism
Created | Updated Jun 11, 2017
Writing Right with Dmitri: Writer Agnosticism
Agnostic: a person who is unwilling to commit to an opinion about something
Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Do you remember Calvin & Hobbes? Calvin claimed to be a 'math atheist'. I sympathise, but I'm more of a math agnostic. In fact, in spite of that patronising dictionary definition, I'm kind of agnostic about reality. Think about it: we do not know a fraction of what we think we know – about anything. Some of you will believe me on this, but others won't. And you know what? I don't think our belief or disbelief changes the situation one iota. It either is, or it isn't, and we are very unlikely, at this stage of the world, to have the last word on much of anything.
Of course, I could be wrong.
The aim of science is not to open the door to infinite wisdom, but to set a limit to infinite error.
Bertolt Brecht, Life of Galileo
A lot of what we think we know – even 'facts' we base our daily actions on – may turn out to be completely bogus. You want examples? You could think you have all the time in the world to finish that DIY project, but. . . unbeknownst to all of us, the killer asteroid with our name on it may be due to arrive next Tuesday.
You're fairly confident there are no aliens hovering around our planet, but. . . it would only take one on the Washington Mall (or Trafalgar Square) to effect a radical change in your viewpoint, no?
We could find out we're really Brains in a Vat. We could discover life on Venus. Or Europa. New discoveries in medicine, chemistry, or physics could overthrow scientific models we've been 'sure of' for years. A new archaeological find could completely change our view of past events. Or a primate could learn to talk, and tell us we've been wrong about, oh, so many things, for oh, so long. . .
That's all true. Nobody has the patent on reality, even if those nudniks in the governments think they do. But what has that got to do with writing?
Just this: spreading Absolute Truth isn't our job. Writing truthfully is. So how do we do that?
By making sure that our attitude is honest when it comes to the basics: human beings, the natural world, our sense of right and wrong. We may find out tomorrow that some conspiracy theory or other is actually true. We may find that everything we learned in school is a load of hogwash. Our ignorance on all subjects from atoms to zinnias may be vast. But we can make sure that we treat each other and the world around us with respect. That won't go wrong. And we need to be completely honest, as best we can, about what we know and don't know.
I do not remember when I first realized that I was different from other people; but I knew it before my teacher came to me. I had noticed that my mother and my friends did not use signs as I did when they wanted anything done, but talked with their mouths. Sometimes I stood between two persons who were conversing and touched their lips. I could not understand, and was vexed. I moved my lips and gesticulated frantically without result. This made me so angry at times that I kicked and screamed until I was exhausted.
I think I knew when I was naughty, for I knew that it hurt Ella, my nurse, to kick her, and when my fit of temper was over I had a feeling akin to regret. But I cannot remember any instance in which this feeling prevented me from repeating the naughtiness when I failed to get what I wanted.
In those days a little coloured girl, Martha Washington, the child of our cook, and Belle, an old setter, and a great hunter in her day, were my constant companions. Martha Washington understood my signs, and I seldom had any difficulty in making her do just as I wished. It pleased me to domineer over her, and she generally submitted to my tyranny rather than risk a hand-to-hand encounter. I was strong, active, indifferent to consequences. I knew my own mind well enough and always had my own way, even if I had to fight tooth and nail for it. We spent a great deal of time in the kitchen, kneading dough balls, helping make ice-cream, grinding coffee, quarreling over the cake-bowl, and feeding the hens and turkeys that swarmed about the kitchen steps. Many of them were so tame that they would eat from my hand and let me feel them. One big gobbler snatched a tomato from me one day and ran away with it. Inspired, perhaps, by Master Gobbler's success, we carried off to the woodpile a cake which the cook had just frosted, and ate every bit of it. I was quite ill afterward, and I wonder if retribution also overtook the turkey.
Helen Keller, The Story of My Life, courtesy of Project Gutenberg.
Helen Keller knew something amazing. She remembered the moment when she learned how important language was. 'That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!' she said. Wow, we might not have known that without her. Ms Keller knew what it was to be deaf and blind and unable to figure things out. And she knew what it was like to be given the tools for discovery. That's why we read her book. That's why we're glad she chose to share it with us.
We can be wrong about all manner of things. The internet is full of wrong ideas and silly notions. We can be taken in sometimes. But I think we'll muddle through somehow if we're just honest enough about what we're experiencing. The next bombshell revelation may be just around the corner – or a few short parsecs away. For a writer, agnosticism can be a good thing. It's much better than dogmatic certainty about what we think we know. In its wisdom, the future may laugh at us. But if we've been honest enough, the future reader might just learn something, too. Write as if your next piece is a message in a bottle. What might be a useful thing to say to the finder on that distant shore?
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