In 1877, British mathematician William Clifford published an essay titled "The Ethics of Belief," in which he argued against belief, especially belief based on insufficient evidence.
He posited that if a shipowner, who doubts whether his old vessel is seaworthy, decides to send it out full of passengers, he is guilty regardless of whether the ship reaches its destination.
The shipowner is guilty because he suppressed his doubts since he chose to believe instead of inquiring.
It is wrong always, everywhere, and for anyone, to believe anything upon insufficient evidence.
~ William Clifford
In Clifford’s view, there is no such thing as a private belief. All belief is inherently social because it dictates how you act, how you speak, and how you behave in the world. Consequently, the shipowner’s rule applies universally to all things.
The most powerful argument in his essay was the example of a society that acts entirely on insufficient belie, such a society rots from within: people lose the ability to distinguish empirical evidence from wishful conviction, and credulous belief becomes normalised.
To Clifford, the mind is obligated to inquire, to investigate, and to falsify its own hypotheses.
As Christopher Hitchens later echoed: “What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.”
Across the Atlantic, however, a namesake of Clifford’s wrote a sharp response, claiming the British mathematician’s view was “intellectually imperialistic.”
That namesake was William James.
In 1896, William James gave a speech where he said:
"I have brought with me tonight ... an essay in justification of faith, a defense of our right to adopt a believing attitude in religious matters, in spite of the fact that our merely logical intellect may not have been coerced. 'The Will to Believe,' accordingly, is the title of my paper."
In his speech, which later was published as an essay called ‘The Will to Believe’ William James addressed the gap in Clifford’s brilliant polemic.
James raised Pascal’s wager:
"If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is."
However, James rejects Pascal’s mechanical reasoning. Belief cannot be coerced; one cannot simply choose to believe in something through sheer will.
In his essay, he writes that there are two types of hypotheses when it comes to belief: live ones and dead ones.
A dead hypothesis carries no weight for people today, for instance, a belief in Zeus is “dead,” as ancient mythologies no longer hold transformative power over the modern mind. There are, however, live hypotheses: for many, the tenets of Christianity, Islam, and other faiths remain vibrant and “alive.”
James argues that these beliefs are not mechanical in the way Clifford suggests. Just as you cannot convince someone that the ceiling above them is made of cheese (this is my example, haha, not James’!), you cannot compel someone to believe in a dead hypothesis.
When it comes to genuinely vital questions about meaning, God, love, or whether the universe possesses a moral order, the choice is what James calls “forced.” You cannot stand outside of it. Every morning that you wake up and live, you are already answering these questions through your actions.
The person who claims, “I am withholding judgment on whether God exists,” is not occupying neutral ground. They are living, practically and daily, as though the answer is “no.” In James’s view, suspending judgment is itself a verdict.
Imagine you are on a hike and come to a wide river. Standing on the bank, you contemplate whether you are capable of jumping across without falling in and getting soaking wet. It does not seem impossible, yet there is a clear risk that your leap might not be strong enough to reach the other side.
In this moment, you have two choices: you can either turn around and abandon the hike, or you can attempt the jump and see what happens. This is the core of James’s argument: whichever decision you make, you “open” a reality. There is no neutral ground; even the choice not to jump is an active decision that shapes your path.
It is worth pausing here to clarify for the reader that James does not deny that Clifford’s shipowner is obligated to ensure his vessel is safe for its passengers. Rather, James argues that Clifford’s example is applicable only to the calculable, material aspects of the world.
But how does one provide material evidence for love?
How inauthentic does love appear when it must be “proven” by material gifts?
How many cars or diamonds could ever serve as sufficient evidence for the reality of love?
Love is not a hypothesis you verify from the outside. It is a reality you enter, or you don’t.
It is the same applicable to friendship or parenthood. Clifford’s argument collapses under its own weight when it comes to immaterial nature of our beings.
William James’s argument resonates deeply within my heart: he suggests that Clifford’s logic produces paralysed individuals people who stand perpetually on the riverbank, choosing to abandon their journey rather than daring to leap.
There is only so much evidence one can collect to predict whether a relationship or a love will succeed. We have all known couples whose unions fell apart despite every material indicator, whether education, wealth, or background, matching perfectly. Conversely, we have seen those for whom the material evidence suggested failure, and yet they “lived happily ever after.”
And yet James’ argument goes deeper than this, he tells us that there are certain realities that unfold only through participation. You will never know whether you can reach the other bank of the river unless you try, you will never discover love if you do not participate in it, you will never find your vocation unless you participate in your inclinations.
Whether you choose not to act or to act, you still act.
Clifford assumes that the only legitimate relationship a person can have with a question is the scientific one: gather evidence, withhold judgment until the evidence is sufficient, and only then commit. But James points out that this standard, applied universally, does not produce rational people. It produces paralysed ones.
James accused Clifford of ‘intellectual imperialism’, because Clifford’s argument was transferred to the domain where it does not function at all. In the realm of material, measurable elements, where you could check the quality and the safety of the vessel Clifford’s argument clearly applies.
In the realm of heart however Clifford’s worldview paralyses our souls. Knowledge maps well where we are, but belief is what makes act.
Clifford and James are not enemies. They are cartographers of different territories. Clifford governs the world of ships, where evidence exists, where inquiry is possible, and where suppressing doubt is a moral failure.
James governs the world of rivers, where the evidence cannot settle the matter, where life will not pause for certainty to arrive, and where not choosing is itself a choice.
The mistakes applying one man's rules to the other man's territory.
In any debate between belief and knowledge, there will always be two types of people: the first will argue, “It’s better to live according to knowledge than on insufficient belief,” while the second will simplify the argument further by denying the authenticity of all knowledge to justify their own belief.
In my next post, I will explore this tension further and share details of a debate I had at the local philosophy club regarding these two concepts. There is far more to this discussion than a single post can contain.
Consider the Wright brothers designing their first plane, they planned carefully and based their experiments on existing knowledge, yet they could never truly know if their device would fly. Belief is the bridge that connects knowledge to action. Without belief, knowledge is sterile; without knowledge, belief is dangerous.
This is exactly what we will explore next.
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