The Flip of a Coin

It seems that if I say something is “logical,” my statement reveals more about my understanding of the particular matter than it does about the matter itself.

This is because logic is intricately bound, not only to one’s knowledge, but also to his ability to draw connections in order to form a broader understanding of a specific topic.

Let me use the example of a car to illustrate what I mean:

To me, it seems entirely logical that a car can drive. I know it has an engine, and I understand how combustion works. Thus, it is logical that a car can drive.

But what if I were to introduce a man from medieval Europe to a car?

Would he not be utterly confused by a vehicle that moves under its own power? To him, it would only be logical for the car to move if two horses were strapped to its front. The idea that the ponies are under the hood instead of in front of it would be foreign to him. Thus, until I explained how an engine functions, the car's self-driving capability would remain illogical to him.

In a sense, we could say that something appears logical to us when an external event aligns with our understanding.

However, understanding is not the only determinant of logic. Experience plays a role as well.

Take gravity, for example. To me, gravity is logical. I have learned that mass exudes an invisible force that attracts other masses toward it. Do I truly understand this? I don’t believe so. If I actually think about it, I really don’t understand how gravity works. I don’t know why mass exudes a force that pulls other objects to it. If I had grown up without hearing about gravity, I would simply accept that I don’t float away from the ground because I am heavy. Or perhaps I would never even wonder why I don’t float, since gravity is so intricately woven into my reality that I remain unaware of it. It is so normal to me that I do not wonder about it. And so, gravity appears logical to me despite my lack of understanding.

Based on these observations, logic appears to be a coin with two sides. The one side is that of understanding. The more I expand my knowledge by observing my surroundings, having honest discussions, asking sincere questions, and searching for truth, the more I can apply logic accurately. However, I must always remain cautious. If I become too sure in my understanding, it can become a cage that does not allow me to grow beyond its borders. I must always remain open to learning things that stretch the boundaries of my logical approach.

The other side of the coin is that of exposure without understanding. I hear, see, and perceive things throughout the entirety of my life. The more I am exposed to something, the more likely I am to accept it as logical, simply because of its prevalence in my life. Caution is necessary here, for I can be deceived all too easily. My lack of understanding renders me weak and vulnerable to those who declare to understand more than I do. These things, which appear logical to me, despite my inability to understand them, must be held more loosely than those which are well-founded in my base of knowledge.

Those seem to be the two sources of logic: knowledge and experience.

However, this is where it starts to get interesting.

We like to speak of coins as having two sides. But coins do not have two sides. They have three: heads, tails, and the edge, which separates them.

This edge of the coin represents the third side of logic.

This is the dangerous side. The one from which there is nearly no return: Ignorance.

Ignorance is not simply a lack of understanding; it is defined by its certainty in conviction despite a lack of understanding. Since ignorance is already positive that it is correct, it has no desire to ever wonder or ask.

Ignorance never needs to search.

It stifles every possibility of growth.

If I become ignorant in an area, I will attribute all that I see in that field to logic,... not because I have grown so intimate in my understanding of reality, but because I do not understand why anything happens at all. And so, it is not true logic that I apply. It is instead a perverted, ignorant form of logic – we could call it flawgic. And since I accept everything as it appears, no questions arise in me. And without questions, I cannot wonder, and thus my understanding never grows.

This flawgic may first appear as logic, but in reality, it is quite the opposite. It’s foundation does not lie in the fertile soil of curiosity and searching but stagnation of thought.

The irony of this essay is that its conclusion, which points out how easily logic can be flawed, is derived through logical contemplation.

And so, as I walk through life, flipping this coin of logic, I do my best to grow my understanding so that I may derive logic from knowledge instead of from mere exposure.

And I pray that the coin never lands on the edge of ignorance.