Desire, Fear, and Pain are Three Forms of Partial Knowledge
Economics depends on principles of self, which are often explored in spiritual traditions. Philosophy and math must work together to resolve empirical knowledge practices with these important principles. Philosophy is needed to develop sound theory of epistemic principles with regards to human existence, without which empirical processes are often misdirected or invalid.
What is economics without accounting? Not much — It would be nonsense, pointless, and useless. Accounting, in turn, is an elaborate form of social storytelling, which depends on knowledge of self and its purpose is to establish duty.
Accounting is about our past, present, and future simultaneously. It is a history of what has happened. It is a compilation of the best state of our present knowledge. It also is a script we agree to follow socially in making future choices.
In my previous writing, I have put too much emphasis on reductivist descriptions of human relations. I’ve been trying to describe how social practices embody a particular type of information system.
I feel strongly that reduction is not the best way to present these concepts. Emergence is an alternative perspective that is equally mathematically accurate, but much more philosophically insightful. Reduction and emergence are equivalent mathematically, but not the same philosophically. Emergence reveals the foundations of relationships and the dynamics of process, while reduction dissects these, often making it hard to see the big picture.
I agree with materialist assertions made by reductivists, but readily embrace knowledge and insights presented by spiritual traditions about self.
Can we accommodate both perspectives? Does a strict scientist, who only accepts experimental knowledge, have anything to discuss with a spiritual practitioner who engages in prayer, believes in deity, develops faith, and strives to live by religious rules?
I grew up being taught the importance of faith. Let’s lay aside potentially problematic dogmatic misapplications of faith. “Faith” could be used to pressure people into conformity, or dissuade questioning and independent investigation. But this is not what faith is really about.
Faith is a principle of knowledge and action. It is an empowering tool. It is not merely blind belief. Faith is trust in sound principles where one has some knowledge but lacks complete proof, understanding, or experience.
When we are confronted with desire, fear, or pain, we are experiencing a state of partial knowledge. This knowledge can be encoded as biological urges, social shame, or other emotional responses.
Faith is a tool for learning, whereby one comes to embrace sound principles of personal practice. In this sense, faith requires action.
The utility of learning and practice can easily be established empirically. I think many scientists would shy away from using the word ‘Faith’ in this context, but in my experience, it is invaluable.
Where Knowledge Comes to Life: Sports and Games
These principles have been highlighted for me in two different unexpected contexts. I enjoy games and sports, even when I’m not the most skilled player or competitive person. I play strategy games and I like contact sports which involve contest of skill and physical effort.
In highschool I wrestled. Over the last few years I’ve been training brazilian jui jitsu, off and on, with a club at the local university.
I decided it was time to learn about striking. “Striking” is essentially kicks and punches(plus elbows, knees, and heads, sometimes)! Striking can be more dangerous, but at the same time it can be less ‘expensive’ than grappling, in terms of strength expended and physical commitment. Grappling usually ends up on the ground, where you can be vulnerable, for example.
Grappling in BJJ does a good job of overcoming these inherent weaknesses. BJJ is all about efficiency, form, posture, and position. It emphasizes technique over strength. A small person can overcome a large person. A weak person can submit someone who is strong, but lacks the knowledge and skill to control their own body and manipulate the body of their opponent.
In BJJ, when you attack, you are a human chinese finger trap. Each move your opponent makes entangles them more. When you defend, you are like water, and easily flow through attempts to hold or grasp you. Compared to other martial arts, BJJ is often slow and methodical, yet unrelenting.
BJJ does a great job of minimizing and hiding how physically expensive grappling really is. In wrestling we embraced this, doing intense conditioning, always trying to be in better shape than our opponent, though with good technique as well.
In contrast, boxing seems to be about threats and punishment, attack and evasion. Blocking is a last resort. I’m not saying that boxing isn’t physically demanding, but a single strike definitely involves less effort and commitment than a takedown attempt. Once you start combining multiple strikes, moves, and evasions, that’s when boxing becomes very physically demanding.
In boxing you need to be tough, but you don’t want to just “tough it out”, in the sense that you ignore your opponent’s onslaught.
This goes against my natural mentality. I’m inclined to focus on my own goals and ignore what people around me are doing. This quickly gets me into trouble when I box. I could get away with this fighting someone of my same level of inexperience, but our club instructor is small, quick, and powerful and puts me to shame despite our size difference.
I honestly don’t understand how he manages to stay out of my reach and then clock me straight in the face out of nowhere.
After a particularly challenging practice, I was googling how to avoid getting punched, because if I want to box, I’ll need to change my tendency to let things hit me and ignore them.
The answer surprised me, the author said you have to use fear to help you defend against punches — Wait, isn’t fear a bad thing? Doesn’t fear reduce risk taking and hurt performance? Aren’t we taught to be brave, and never give in to our fears?
It’s all a matter of harnessing your fear to practice and develop effective instinctual responses. These emotions developed in humans for a reason. If we learn to use them to their full potential we can be brave and afraid at the same time, and be better off for it.
I’ve noticed this same thing playing poker.
Poker is a game of emotions. You try mask your own emotions, and manipulate the emotions of your adversaries. At the same time, poker is mathematical. If you don’t know the mathematics accurately, the emotional dimension is irrelevant and you will lose either way.
The Human Condition
As humans we live in a continual condition of imperfect knowledge. Emotions are a key part of how we deal with this. Once we act, our knowledge of outcomes is fulfilled, to a degree, and this resolution brings another emotional response. Sometimes it is shame or guilt, sometimes it is elation or pleasure. But peace and contentment are the emotions that come with full resolution of knowledge and fulfillment of duty, regardless of whether outcomes were good or bad. We cannot know our duty, however, unless we embrace the mathematics of causality and outcomes. Given a particular objective and specific constraints, there may be only one correct course of action, or an unambiguous best course of action.
What your duties are I cannot tell you. But I think that describing duty is the best way to achieve contentment with choices.
