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Abstract
One phenomenon arising in epistemic life is allegiance to, and break from, a tradition. This phenomenon has three central features. First, individuals who adhere to a tradition seem to respond dogmatically to evidence against their tradition. Second, individuals from different traditions appear to see the same evidence differently. And third, conversion from one tradition to another appears to be different in kind from ordinary belief shift. This paper uses recent work on the nature and rationality of faith to show that these features can all emerge from individuals acting rationally—in particular, from individuals rationally having faith in the core assumptions of their traditions. One upshot is that we don’t need to employ the idea of incommensurability to explain these features.

1 INTRODUCTION1
Faith has not always been treated as a respectable propositional attitude among philosophers. The reasons for doubt regarding faith’s respectability are not far to seek. First, faith has been taken by many to be an intrinsically irrational attitude since the person with faith has an improper attitude toward evidence. Second, faith has often appeared to be a useless attitude since there is no effectual role for it in our cognitive psychology that cannot be played by other more respectable propositional attitudes like belief and desire. According to my account of faith, the risky-commitment account, having faith requires stopping one’s search for evidence and making a commitment—and maintaining that commitment even in the face of counter-evidence.2 I have been at pains to argue that even though faith entails a kind of resistance to counterevidence, this attitude can be rational under certain conditions. In other words, I have defended (and will continue to defend here) the claim that faith is not an intrinsically irrational attitude.

There is more to be said in favor of faith than that it can sometimes be rational. I will show in this paper that faith can help us understand an important phenomenon arising in epistemic life: allegiance to, and break from, a tradition. This phenomenon has three central features. First, individuals who adhere to a tradition seem to respond dogmatically to evidence against their tradition. Second, individuals from different traditions appear to see the same evidence differently. And third, conversion from one tradition to another is qualitatively different from ordinary belief change: it is felt as a ‘break’ rather than smooth and gradual. I will show that, contrary to initial appearances, these features can all emerge from individuals acting rationally—in particular, from individuals rationally having faith in the core assumptions of their traditions.

2 TRADITIONS AND PARADIGMS
The phenomenon of paradigms and paradigm shift was first identified by philosophers of science observing that science sometimes undergoes large-scale changes instead of progressing incrementally.3 The rough pattern begins with a scientific community centered around some core assumptions or practices. For example, the scientific community of the 2nd century that accepted Ptolmeic astronomy centered itself around the assumption that the Earth is a sphere at the center of the universe and postulated that each planet was moved by a system of spheres.4 Once the core assumptions are accepted by the community, there is little interest in justifying them further; they are instead taken for granted while the community carries out the ‘normal’ scientific work of discovering facts about the world. On some occasion, however, the community is confronted by crisis, in the form of a problem or problems it cannot solve: some anomaly arises that is clearly not predicted by the theory. For example, observations of the positions of the planets seemed to contradict the geocentric view. When a crisis occurs, there are a number of responses by scientists within the community. Some may dig their heels in and make the theory more complex to account for the anomaly, in a way that can seem recalcitrant or dogmatic; for example, geocentrists postulated more and more complex versions of the Ptolmeic theory. Others might search about for new theories, dropping the assumptions of the old paradigm and working out new ones. If the anomaly is not accounted for, there can eventually be a whole-scale shift to an entirely new set of core assumptions. In what is typically known as the ‘Copernican revolution’, the geocentric theory was replaced by theories that held that Earth and the other planets move around the sun. It is significant that the term ‘revolution’ is used: a shift to a new set of core assumptions appears qualitatively different than ‘normal’ science.

Following the discussion of this phenomenon in science, philosophers have noticed it in other domains.5 Alastair MacIntyre argues that moral traditions similarly center themselves around certain core assumptions, and communities go through a process like the one described above.6 For example, Aristotelians centered themselves around a particular conception of the virtues and how to elucidate them.7 Within a moral community, there is often little interest in justifying the core assumptions; but when a crisis arises in the form of an encounter with a different tradition, this becomes pressing. As in the scientific case, there may be a variety of responses: for example, discovering new concepts to resolve the inadequacies in the current tradition, rejecting the new tradition as a source of evidence, or shifting allegiance to the new tradition. Nancey Murphy argues that theology also holds core assumptions that are accepted without additional justification, and ‘normal’ theology is carried out in light of these, until there is a crisis. For example, the Catholic modernists centered themselves around the assumption that Catholicism is true and can be reconciled with modern thought, and looked to devotional religious life to find empirical support for theology.8

This pattern can also occur not just within a community but within an individual.9 For example, consider a person who grew up comfortably as a Christian for whom being an atheist was not a serious intellectual option—or a person who grew up comfortably as an atheist for whom being a Christian was not a serious intellectual option. They each may start with their core assumption or assumptions (that constitute what it is to be a Christian or an atheist), and explore the world using principles that emanate from those assumptions. The Christian might encounter unnecessary suffering, the atheist a lack of meaning—they will both initially be inclined to dismiss these challenges, in a way that looks like dogmatism to observers. Or when they meet each other, they may initially convince themselves that the other is unreasonable, morally unserious, or intellectually inferior. This may resolve into a renewed adherence to their own traditions. But instead, one or both of them may feel an increasing mismatch between their theory and lived experience, and when the build-up is too much, they might leave their tradition and convert to a different one. It is significant that this is described as conversion and not merely a shift in beliefs: it is often felt as a significant break, rather than part of an ordinary, continuous process.10

Other examples abound, in the domains of morality and politics: a committed consequentialist or deontologist; a pro-choicer or pro-lifer; a republican or democrat. All see the world through a lens which they no longer feel the need to spend time justifying, but sometimes confront crises, in the form of a thoughtful peer who disagrees or a fact they just can’t seem to fit into their point of view. Sometimes they dig in, sometimes they experience a conversion to the alternative. There are interpersonal examples as well. You may start off by viewing a friend or a spouse as trustworthy, kind, good, but then confront evidence that they are not. You may initially ignore it completely, then later feel a build-up of evidence that you cannot ignore. Some who experience divorce or a break-up describe it as a seismic shift from one way of seeing their partner to a wholly different way.

I will use the more general adherence to a tradition and break from a tradition to describe cases that fit the general pattern discussed. The pattern has three features, each of which seem irrational, or at the very least, arational. First, adherents to a tradition initially respond seemingly dogmatically—by ‘digging in’—to anomalies or counter-evidence. The geocentrist makes his theory increasingly complex; the Christian creates theodicies; neither becomes less committed to their tradition. Call this feature recalcitrance. Second, adherents to different traditions can look at what is putatively the same evidence and draw very different conclusions—or share all their evidence and still draw different conclusions. The pro-lifer and the pro-choicer look at the same world; for one it is filled with babies being killed, for another with women being denied their rights. Call this feature gestalt. Third, a break from one’s tradition is discontinuous, a drastic response to built-up tension rather than an ordinary change in belief. The converting atheist doesn’t gradually accept some Christian claims alongside her atheistic ones; she instead becomes a Christian. Call this feature conversion.

A common way to explain these features is to say that traditions are incommensurable: in particular, the concepts used in one tradition differ from those used in another tradition, such that the two traditions ‘don’t make sense’ from each other’s perspective.11 Simplifying a bit, this fact is supposed to explain the three features as follows. Since a tradition includes its own distinctive concepts and vocabulary, one might not even be able to ‘see’ the counter-evidence, so recalcitrance results. The Christian cannot see unnecessary suffering, she can only see the working out of God’s plan. The devoted wife cannot see her husband’s selfish actions as selfish, she can only see them as those of a kind person under stress at work. Furthermore, there is no such thing as un-interpreted evidence, so one’s evidence depends on one’s paradigm: since practitioners of different paradigms can’t actually look at the ‘same’ evidence, gestalt results. Glancing at an early sonogram, the pro-lifer sees a person, the pro-choicer sees a clump of cells, and neither can understand each other. Finally, a shift from one set of concepts and way of seeing to another is different in kind from a shift in beliefs concerning a given set of concepts—hence conversion.

Some have challenged the idea that traditions really can be incommensurable.12 Furthermore, regardless of whether incommensurability is possible, there seem to be cases that can aptly be called cases of paradigm shift or conversion in which incommensurability is not present—both theories are perfectly understandable from the point of view of the other. Practitioners of different moral theories take themselves to understand the alternatives, for example. On the most natural interpretation of what’s going on, they understand the vocabulary, they just disagree with the claims. The pro-lifer and pro-choicer both understand what it is to be a person or merely a clump of cells—they just disagree about whether the fetus is a person or merely a clump of cells. Atheists can have as sophisticated a concept of God as Christians do, they just disagree about whether something instantiates that concept. Furthermore, on at least Kuhn’s view of incommensurability, the new paradigm is supposed to contain language in which we can understand the old one; so if traditions were incommensurable, then you would expect paradigm shift to be uni-directional. But it’s not: atheists become Christians and Christians become atheists, conservatives become liberals and liberals become conservatives, consequentialists become virtue ethicists and virtue ethicists become consequentialists, pro-lifers become pro-choicers and pro-choicers become pro-lifers.

Perhaps there are responses to these worries. I am not interested in showing definitively that incommensurability cannot do the work it needs to do. Instead, I want to show that we can explain the familiar pattern, and explain it as rational, without invoking incommensurability at all. I will focus on the case of an individual’s adherence to (and break from) a tradition, but everything I say can be applied to the communal case. I will use my account of faith—the risky-commitment account—to show that when an individual rationally has faith in the core assumption of a tradition, all three features follow; and I will argue that core assumptions of traditions are precisely the kinds of things that are appropriate objects of rational faith.

3 THE RISKY-COMMITMENT ACCOUNT OF FAITH
I here briefly rehearse the risky-commitment account of faith,13 and of when and why such faith is rational. This account is an account of propositional faith, and although it encompasses both sacred and secular cases of faith, only certain propositions are candidates for faith at all. In order for a proposition to be a potential object of faith for a subject, the subject must care whether the proposition is true, must have a positive attitude towards the proposition, and must not be certain of the proposition on the basis of his evidence alone—his evidence must leave it open that the proposition is false.

Faith is tied to action, and having faith is a matter of being disposed to do certain actions on the basis of the proposition we have faith in: in particular, being willing to take risks on the basis of that proposition. When we have faith that a particular individual will act in a certain way—keep our secret, pick us up from the airport, do what is in our best interests—we take a risk that the individual will let us down. We are vulnerable to the individual not acting as we have faith that she will act, in the sense that we will bear some cost if she lets us down.14 But not every case of risk-taking is an act of faith. Faith requires a willingness to act on the proposition one has faith in, without first looking for further evidence—and a willingness to continue to act, even if counter-evidence does arise. If one has faith that one’s friend will pick one up at the airport, one won’t call to remind her, nor will one call a cab if one can’t find her. If one has faith that one will complete graduate school, one will continue in the program even after failing an exam. In other words, faith requires making a commitment to take a risk and sticking with that commitment through periods of epistemic doubt. Which of the two aspects of faith—making a commitment or sticking with it—is more central will likely depend on the case.

Thus, a subject has faith in some candidate proposition if he is willing to commit to taking risks on the proposition without examining additional evidence, and to maintain that commitment even in the face of counter-evidence. More formally:
A proposition ‘X’ is a candidate for faith for a person S if S has a positive attitude towards the claim that X and is not certain whether X holds on the basis of his evidence alone.15
S has faith that X if and only if:
(i)
‘X’ is a candidate for faith for S,

(ii)
S is willing to commit to taking (subjective) risks on the claim that X, independent of additional evidence and

(iii)
S is willing to follow through on taking these risks even when he receives evidence against the claim that X.16

To the extent that S is willing to perform riskier acts that express his faith, and remain steadfast in the face of stronger counter-evidence, he has a higher degree of faith that X.17

Steadfast believing is a special case of faith in the proposition believed, provided one has a positive attitude towards the proposition and is not certain on the basis of the evidence alone. Belief is a risk on the truth of the proposition believed, and so if one is willing to commit to believing without further evidence and maintain that commitment even when counterevidence arises, one performs an act of faith by believing in this way. When a person adopts a belief that he is committed to even if counterevidence should arise, I will call that belief a conviction. Thus, provided one has a positive attitude towards X, and is not certain that X on the basis of the evidence alone, adopting and maintaining a conviction that X is an act of faith that X. While faith needn’t rest on belief, it can manifest as a belief—a belief that is resilient in the face of counterevidence.

Both acting in the face of counter-evidence and the more specific believing in the face of counter-evidence will be important to our discussion of traditions. In some cases, like science, belief is central; in other cases, like religion and morality, adhering to a tradition involves not just believing, but acting in accordance with the dictates of the tradition.

An initial thought is that faith is always irrational, because acting and believing on the basis of more evidence rather than less—and changing one’s plans and beliefs as new evidence comes in—better conduces to fulfilling one’s desires and believing the truth. However, as I’ve argued, there are situations in which, because of the structure of the available acts and the available evidence, it is rational to commit to a risky act rather than to examine additional evidence; and it is rational to maintain this commitment even in the face of counter-evidence.18 These include situations in which the risky act is belief. I turn now to these situations.

4 RATIONAL FAITH19
Formal epistemology concerns itself with two important attitudes: credences and utilities. I will understand credences—an individual’s subjective degrees of belief—to express the relationship, according to her, between her evidence and the truth of various propositions: roughly, they express how likely she thinks various propositions are to be true, given the evidence she has. Credences obey the probability calculus, and are updated by conditionalizing on new evidence. The argument here is neutral between a purely subjective view, according to which one can have any internally coherent credence assignment, and a view according to which one must meet additional credence-to-evidence standards in order to count as rational. I will understand utilities—an individual’s desires—to be a measure of how valuable consequences are for the individual. Again, I will be neutral between a “Humean” view of utility, according to which one can have any internally coherent utility assignment, and a view according to which one must meet additional standards.

To analyze the rationality of holding an ‘on-off’ belief, we can assign epistemic utility values to holding that belief in various states of the world. Following William James and adapting a model from Isaac Levi, the utility value of holding a belief will be a function both of that belief’s truth and its informativeness.20 For example, if it is snowing, it is better to believe ‘it is snowing’ than to believe ‘it is either snowing or raining’ (while both are true, the former is more informative), and it is better to believe either of those things than to believe ‘it is raining’ (which is false). In the case of a single proposition X, if X is true then u(believe ‘X’) > u(believe ‘X v not-X’) > u(believe ‘not-X’). We can, without loss of generality, assign a value of 1 to believing an informative truth, a value of 0 to believing a falsehood, and some middle value M (with 0.5 ≤ M < 1) to remaining agnostic, that is, to believing the non-informative truth ‘X or not-X’ (Figure 1):21

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FIGURE 1
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Payoffs of Various Belief States, 0.5 ≤ M < 1 According to the standard view (expected utility maximization), an individual is instrumentally rational if she chooses actions that maximize expected utility, relative to her own credences and utilities. So, if one has credence p(X) > M, then one ought to believe ‘X’.22

What picture of belief and its epistemic function am I adopting here? I want to remain neutral between two options.

The first option is a picture on which an epistemic agent assigns credence to all propositions, and then additionally adopts an on-off epistemic attitude—belief—towards some of them, on the basis of these credence assignments and in accordance with the epistemic utility framework detailed above. In typical versions of this picture, one does not assign credence 1 to a proposition unless one considers one’s credence unrevisable.

This is not Levi’s picture. For Levi, an epistemic agent first adopts a corpus of propositions that she accepts ‘as evidence,’ i.e., that are not subject to serious question, though are not immune from revision in the future; these propositions constitute her knowledge.23 After doing so, she assigns credences to the remaining propositions on the basis of this corpus; she then rationally accepts propositions that maximize epistemic utility as detailed above and adds these to her corpus; and she iterates this process.24 At each step, credence essentially ‘drops out’, since once a proposition is accepted into her corpus, new credences are calculated.

The second option is to accept a picture like Levi’s, but without iteration and, more importantly, without throwing out the credences that were based on the initial corpus. On this picture, like Levi’s, there are some propositions that the agent adopts in a ‘strong’ way—they constitute knowledge or evidence or their negations are not serious possibilities—and these are used to assign credences to the remaining propositions.25 But in addition, the agent accepts some of these remaining propositions in a ‘weak’ way—she ‘merely’ believes them, but does not know them or take herself to know them or treat them as evidence—in accordance with the epistemic utility framework.

Each picture holds that belief is an on-off attitude that encompasses more than what one assigns credence 1 to or what one knows or takes as evidence. This attitude allows us to represent the world as including the truth of some claim, even if we do not know or do not assign credence 1 to that claim. Proposals in the literature for why we need this attitude include: that this attitude forms the basis of reactive attitudes like praise and blame; that it forms the basis of assertions; that it is action-guiding; and that is reason-guiding.26 These proposals generally hold that while decision theory guides many parts of practical and epistemic life, other parts of practical and epistemic life must be guided by norms that use beliefs rather than credences. Adopting a belief doesn’t change the underlying credence calculations: one doesn’t, for example, assign probability 1 to things that one believes. Instead, beliefs co-exist with credences and play a different role in epistemic and practical life.