Imagination and Belief
A love and hate relationship.
Introduction
Anna is a jealous person with a vivid imagination. She often depicts scenarios of her boyfriend cheating on her, whenever he’s out with friends, or on a business trip. Sometimes she becomes so overwhelmed by her imaginings that she starts believing them and acts “weird for no reason”, as her boyfriend would say. Anna’s friends keep telling her that she shouldn’t believe everything she thinks and that she’d be better off putting all that imagination into some creative work, rather than the acquisition of unjustified beliefs. Perhaps, when Seneca wrote that we suffer mostly in our imagination, he had in mind cases like Anna’s.
One day, Anna and Betty — her best friend, were out shopping for furniture, when a yellow sofa caught Betty’s eye. The girls sat on it and Betty ran her hands over the velvet upholstery. Yes, it’s perfect, she said. Anna had her doubts about it, though. Wasn’t it a bit too big to go through the door and fit properly in the room? Betty closed her eyes, then opened them. Circling around the sofa she repeated that a couple of times, imagining how she could fit the piece. I believe it will fit just right, said Betty. Well, don’t believe everything you imagine, replied Anna. Then, she added in a joking tone, Your words, not mine!
Even though, as we shall see, imagination and belief are two rather distinct mental states, there is an invisible thread that binds them. A thread that ties a complicated relationship of, one might say, love and hate.
The differences
Truth is perhaps the main feature that differentiates belief from imagination. When we believe in something, we consider it to be true. It would be weird to say I believe that the sun rises from the East, even though I know that’s not the case, wouldn’t it? Unlike with belief, when we imagine something we are not constrained to the truth. Imagination stands in a neutral relation to it.
Of course, sometimes we hold false beliefs. But often when we are provided with sufficient evidence, we are prone to re-examine and alter them. Thus, evidence is another feature that differentiates belief from imagination.
Take, for example, a juror in court who currently believes the defendant is guilty. That juror might change her belief, after coming across new, highly convincing evidence that points to the defendant’s innocence. Chances are, the process of change will be triggered by doubt. Initially, the newly formed belief of the defendant’s innocence will be weak. But the more evidence the juror is presented with, the stronger her belief in his innocence.
Alternatively, our imaginings are free from the constrains of evidence. I have solid proof that gravity exists and that I cannot fly, but that won’t prevent me from imagining it, would it?
It’s important to note that the principle of evidence doesn’t apply in the same way to religious beliefs. A devoted, say, Christian won’t change their belief in God, no matter how many rational arguments and evidence against the deity they are presented with.
But let’s go back to our juror. This time, suppose she was a witness, instead. It seems perfectly reasonable to say that because she saw the face of the killer, she believes the person she saw is guilty. This brings out yet another factor that differentiates belief from imagination — perception. Perceiving something typically forms the belief of that something. I am looking at the laptop in front of me, so I believe that there is a laptop in front of me. But this is not the case with imagination. I may have my laptop in front of me, but still be perfectly capable of imagining myself in the mountains.
Notice I say that perceiving typically forms a belief, but not always, as there are certain exceptions to that. Sometimes we can hold two mutually excluding beliefs. We call this a cognitive dissonance. Other times, we see something and refuse to believe it. Consider optical illusions, or magical tricks. Even if you see the two halves of a person’s body on stage, you don’t believe that the person is actually cut into half. You pretend to believe it. This explains why you are not paralyzed from shock, or screaming for help. And that’s because the degree and kind of emotional effect we might have from imagining something (or pretending to believe in it) will differ from that of actually believing the same thing.
Yet another crucial difference between the two mental states is our probability to act on them. Imagining that my house is on fire, won’t disturb my chilling on the couch. But believing that my home is engulfed in flames will make me run out of it.
The bond
Imagining and believing something are certainly two distinct mental states. But if we go back to Betty’s way of assessing whether the yellow sofa will pass through the door and fit in her living room, we are reminded of how often we use our imagination to form a belief. We might imagine ourselves in different scenarios — in a new city, or having a new job, before we make important decisions like moving away, or taking new professional paths. This phenomenon is called an imaginative immersion and it’s produced by the way of imaginings but with the effects of beliefs.
Using our imagination to consider whether a piece of furniture will fit the the overall aesthetics of a room is certainly useful. But there’s a dangerous side to it, too. For it is precisely on that continuum between imagination and belief where psychological disorders, involving delusions, reside. People suffering from schizophrenia often imagine things that provoke belief-like effects. That said, one doesn’t have to suffer from mental disorders to let their imagination reign over them. Anna’s case is a great example of how one’s sober way of thinking could simply be clouded by her vivid imagination.
But acting upon our sometimes seemingly crazy imaginings can also be very powerful. None of the visionaries and inventors throughout history would have been able to achieve what they did, had they not acted on their imaginings as if they were absolutely true beliefs and not mere (sometimes highly implausible) possibilities. All that explains why we are often hesitant to call some geniuses mad.
Conclusion
We can see that, while distinct mental states, imagination and belief can feed on each other. Sometimes that connection can be healthy and lead to innovations. Other times, it can be psychologically disastrous.
It’s quite amazing how humans have the cognitive flexibility to relate to the very same proposition in a number of ways — we can believe it, imagine it, suppose it. Pablo Picasso said that everything we can imagine is real. His words are, in a way, an invitation to believe everything. If he is right, then everything is possible. I guess the fine, blurry line between imaginings that yield healthy and progressive belief-like behaviour, and those that lead to mental disorders, breaks down to our critical analysis of just how probable those possibilities are. And yes, sometime you will be walking that fine line, called madman by some, and genius by others.
If you like what you’ve read, you can support me by clicking on the Follow button — a guarantee you won’t miss out on my new articles.
Thank you!
