Skepticism and The Art of Teaching

“If you clung to the truth, even against the whole world, you weren’t mad” ~ George Orwell 

Even now, even after I’ve repeatedly reassured myself that I was going to do this against all odds, I still feel hesitant about expressing some of the thoughts incestuously in-breeding inside my head as they iconoclastically chew away at my politely “people-pleasing” masque.

This is perhaps because of the delicate and somewhat controversial nature of what it is that I feel compelled to write about: How my own life as a skeptic (otherwise known as a Heathen, Infidel, Heretic, and Apostate to all monotheistic religions out there) has ultimately forever shaped the way I see and think about things.

Let me start off with the following disclaimer: I am not being paid to do this. I am not being threatened into doing this. There is no reward. There are no retributions – well, none besides the caustic remarks and self-inflicted danger that I am fully aware I am subjecting myself to.

My reason for doing this is simple: I find not just wisdom, but also great humility in going about life questioning everything, and never stopping at any red lines that might surface; be they religion, god(s), the universe, science, or otherwise. As such, and because I cannot help but pause each time I encounter critical/argumentative flaws and inconsistencies that I am not able to reconcile with what the rules of logic dictate, I decided I must find a “quarantine” or “playground” for these fallacies; one which enables me to highlight their outrageous and totalitarian essences. 

This outlet, I have found to be teaching.

Often, students wrongly assume that all their peers understand exactly what they mean simply because, well, why wouldn’t they assume “home” is “mum and dad” and “happiness” is “success”? Why on earth would they believe that “home” could be a person, and “happiness” - perhaps in more macabre and morbid terms - the lack or absence of trauma?

Applying Freud’s Free Association technique quickly breaks the ice as I ask each of my students to quickly tell me how he/she would define the terms. The result is magical: Each and every time, my class is taken aback as students suddenly become aware of the plethora of meanings that can be contained in a word (and wasn’t it Alice herself who, once immersed in her wonderland, noted how “words can mean anything you want them to mean"?).

Like religion, there are too many “truths”. Unlike religion, we can “choose” the right one, after a tedious and meticulous screening process.

Like religion, many “truths” have been dictated and imposed upon us since birth. Unlike religion, we can dispel incongruous meanings, compress some meanings, and even expand other new meanings to a whole different horizon.

I teach my students to never assume their peers share the same background, religion, and ethnicity as them.

I teach my students to never assume their peers have the same beliefs, morals, and opinions as they do.

I teach my students to never assume I understand what they’re talking about or why or how they’re talking about the thing they’re talking about.

I teach my students to ground their answers in evidence.

I teach my students to give me reasons for all of their claims.

I teach my students that although a thesis can be formulaically broken down into: Thesis = claim + reasons, the omission of reasons renders a thesis an opinion and not a claim. And while claims can be argued, opinions cannot.

I teach my students about black, white, and gray reasoning: If they are not able to define what something is, I teach my students to start the process in reverse by first defining what it is not. If they cannot think of “why?” I teach my students to think instead of “why not?”

I teach my students that with faith, justification is often circuitous: “I believe because I have faith <=> I have faith because I believe”. However, with argumentation, justification is linear: “I believe in A because of X, Y, and Z”.

I do not brainwash my students; I teach them to meta-think. About everything. Including my own teaching. I have realized that the student-teacher relationship need not be a mundane and repetitive spoon-feeding. On the contrary, the most intriguing and enriching discussions often flourish when ideas mesh and discordantly refract in second, third, and even fourth dimension planes. 

Naturally, I have my own views (about practically everything), but I teach my students that all opinions can be subject to change; including my own. This is, of course, so long as compelling reasons and arguments ensue. 

I teach my students that no topic should be handled with oven-mittens (a Richard Dawkins reference I believe): If it’s worth discussing, it’s worth criticizing; even if it comprises our ‘oh-so-delicate’ pillars of belief.

Ultimately, I teach my students to be full-fledged skeptics irrespective of how this impacts their religious views. My concern is in-so-far as it is related to seeing them critically think, question, and support any and all of their thoughts, views, claims, and arguments.

I have put this strategy of mine to the test, and I have seen it work. Even the most religious among my students are embracing, and dare I say, enjoying questioning everything before blindly including them in their work. This is something that I surely appreciate; regardless of whether or not it does end up shaping their more personal convictions.

I am not afraid of voicing my opinions out loud anymore. Indeed, it is true that the world is filled with beautiful wonders but, and as Douglas Adams articulated so eloquently: “Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

I have my disbelief. You can have your fairies. Think I’m wrong? Great.

Convince me.