Text message conversation of the day:
My response might have been a little more devil-may-care than the question warranted (though I'm not sure how he expected me to respond to "Don't think; just answer"), but still, there's something to be said about sitting in the middle of opposed values systems. At least, I like to imagine that there's something to be said for it. Not that I think individualism and collectivism are as diametrically opposed as their names suggest, but the agnostic in me likes to pick and choose bits from both sides of almost any debate. Pulling the diamonds from the dross as they say. My friend here (will call him Daisy) would probably rightly tell me I'm a coward for taking that position (there's something undeniably risk averse about agnosticism) but refusal to take a side definitely has its advantages. The middle is a comfortable place to be ... at least until a conversation comes to blows.
And I do like the middle; maybe a bit too much. It's not that I don't have opinions; there are a number of contemporary debates that I won't hesitate to check off as "settled questions." Evolution is an established scientific reality and valid theory of the origin of species diversity. Homosexual behavior isn't any more morally relevant or ethically significant than heterosexual behavior. Picard was a better captain than Kirk. Other questions are a bit harder for me to come down on, though. The polar ends just leave too much middle space to explore. Do government safety net programs really provide a cumulative societal benefit when their poor implementation and policing seems to encourage their abuse? Does evil exist? Is it essential for morality to have an objective, absolute source? I go back and forth. There is a cowardice to that. Daisy takes the opposite approach, pounding ahead into unexplored territory before he's entirely sure that the arguments he's making carry any weight, smashing points up against counterpoints to see what survives the collision. It's not that he's bullheaded, he's less afraid of fight; even if its a fight that he knows he's going to lose. Me, I don't like losing. I prefer to rest on my intellectually superior, unattached laurels and let the world move around me. Agnosticism is good for that.
It's not all cowardice and smug assurance though. More often than not (particularly on the internet) agnosticism ends up being the tarred and feathered anathema, chased out of the conversation for its refusal to engage on the same level as those jockeying for their cause-du-jour (or cause-du-vie, to be fair). Good luck finding a true agnostic apologist. The internet favors strong opinions stated with conviction, the irony being that when one ventures onto a religious, political or philosophical debate thread and strongly states the opinion that all of this conviction may be misplaced, the response is generally less than enthusiastic. Conversations tend to polarize; intellectually honest agnostic positions aren't just trying to avoid confrontation or make nice when things get divisive, they're trying to point the conversation in a different direction. Which is why it's so frustrating to debate: intellectually honest agnosticism doesn't just undermine your position, it undermines your position and doesn't offer an alternative for you to attack in return. It bangs up against your arguments but doesn't present firm counterarguments. People want to know that they can know. A well-articulated agnostic position undermines that. If what one is looking for is surety, it leaves little ground to stand on. Which is why, I think (despite the masochistic treatment of it above), even though it looks from the outside as cowardly, there is a real bravery to agnosticism's underlying assumptions. It's natural to move from one intellectual space into another; but holding oneself in flux between opposing or even (at times) complimentary positions on a complex issue takes a rare sort of courage. The courage of placing transition and migration over destination or arrival, of valuing the process more than the product and possibility over essence. It's not that agnosticism a superior epistemology, but an anti-epistemology or unepistemology. It's a space that exists after and under certainties. It's a space that says yes to the unknown and to unknowing, that says yes to the stranger, as dangerous as that can be; an admittedly dangerous space that I find myself uncomfortably occupying from time to time. Even so I can't help but find a legitmiate Agnostic attitude that isn't just trying to avoid thinking about the issues thrilling, because once your place of certainty has been undermined you have the rare opportunity to observe a world that seems, at least to me, a bit more open, exciting and new; full of possibilities, full of things to learn.
So, individualism or collectivism?
For now at least, I think I'll stick with Yes.

