Certainty and Dogmatism: The Feeling of Knowing

One of my personal and professional preoccupations is trying to understand religious dogmatism. Specifically, I'm interested in understanding the root causes of doctrinal stubbornness and insularity. For example, in my own religious tradition I've sat through endless doctrinal debates regarding church practices. And as I've witnessed these debates I've made the following observation: There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who might change their minds and those who won't.

I'm sure you've made the same observation. You can feel the degree of openness in the person. And it has nothing to do with the strength of the opinions. I've been in no-holds-barred shouting matches that I've felt were fruitful. The conversation felt flexible and open-ended. I felt in my gut that one of us might actually convince or persuade the other, usually after we had walked away from the conversation, but the point remains: Something stuck. By contrast, I've been in very quiet and polite conversations where I knew I was talking to a brick wall. My conversation partner was unpersuadable. You could feel the ideological immobility. Like talking to a rock.

I recently read a book, Robert Burton's On Being Certain: Believing You are Right Even When You're Not, that I think illuminates some of the dynamics I'm talking about.

The core insight Burton makes in On Being Certain is this: Certainty is a feeling. There is a feeling we have when we know something. To experience this feeling for yourself Burton asks us to recall a recent tip of the tongue experience. Think of meeting someone knowing you know her name but being unable to recall it. That feeling of knowing--"I know this!"--combined with a lack of content (being unable to recall the name) nicely separates the content of knowledge (the name) from the feeling of knowing (the feeling inherent in the tip of the tongue experience). In short, there is a felt experience that is associated with knowing something. Or, more specifically, knowing you know something.

Burton, a neurologist, speculates that this "feeling of knowing" or the "feeling of conviction" is vital to human cognition as it provides us with a reward structure for thought. After successfully solving a problem the feeling of knowing helps signal to us that a solution has arrived. The feeling of knowing also helps us engage in mental search. If I feel I know something (like your name) I'll persist in digging into my memory to figure it out. If, however, I don't get the feeling of knowing I'll not waste any time searching for your name. A similar thing occurs when my students take tests. Sometimes they reach a question where they have a strong feeling of knowing: "I know this!" But on other questions they just draw a blank. No feeling of knowing. On those questions they just guess and move on. But it they feel that they know the answer they will linger and engage in mental search.

Beyond illuminating the phenomenological experience of conviction/knowledge, Burton's other big point is that this system is very glitchy and error prone. Specifically, once I get the feeling of knowing I may forgo any further investigation or reflection. My feeling of knowing tells me I have the answer so why sweat looking for alternatives? As a reinforcing emotion knowledge feels good, it's pleasurable. Consequently, may people stick with the pleasure of "knowing" instead of shrugging off the feeling to reenter the world of debate and argument. It takes a kind of courage to move back into uncertainty. More specifically, it takes a kind of self-overcoming, of saying "No" to yourself. "Knowing" is as pleasurable as doughnuts or ice cream and, like with other pleasures of the flesh, self-restraint and discipline may be required to move back into uncertainty. People might need a diet from certainty. How's that for a New Year's Resolution? To not be so cocksure all the time.

The point of all this is that religious dogmatism is so stubborn because we aren't dealing with rationality. We are working with an emotional system. Overtly, the conversation is about biblical texts or rational arguments. But at root what is governing the conversation is the feeling of knowing. And if the person feels they are right then quality counter-arguments just won't penetrate. The dominant emotional tone of conviction convinces the person that he is in the possession of the truth. That feeling drives the conversation.

A large part of college education is to take a group of people who feel that they know everything (college freshmen) and get them to the point where they feel that they don't know anything. That takes a lot of work in the classroom. The goal is to instill a curious bent to the student's intellectual character. To get them to see each new experience (ideological and interpersonal) as an opportunity for learning.

Higher education is good at this. But I wonder how good the church is at this process. Churches, it seems to me, move in the opposite direction: They try to instill certainty. A similar thing happens in political affiliation. You don't see circumspection when Democrats and Republicans square off. I think this is why we live with the rule to never discuss religion or politics in polite conversation. The "feeling of knowing" infuses those discussions, making them very intense but also very unproductive.

So I wonder, can a church survive if it actually tried to undermine the "feeling of knowing" the way higher education does? Probably not. But I think some persons can make this shift. As a consequence, these person seed the church with question-raisers. The presence of these people infuse the faith community with flexibility and curiosity which prevents ossification and stagnation. A healthy church would be a mix of those who feel they know along with people who feel they don't know. The real trick is getting these people to get along with each other and to mutually affirm the gifts each brings to the communal setting.