Category Archives: Evidentialism

Evidentialism, Part III


Every faith finds its core in a book—a text to guide, to reflect, to ground its people in a way of seeing and living. The Bible, the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita—these books tell stories, reveal mysteries, set down commandments.

But for Evidentialism, a faith rooted in reason and wonder, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations offers a deeper resonance. Here is no myth or prophecy, no divine drama or demand for supernatural belief. Instead, Meditations unfolds as a dialogue with reality, a quiet, honest guide for living in accordance with nature, in alignment with truth.

Where other faiths may cling to the unseen, Evidentialism takes up Meditations as its holy book—a text that speaks not to distant deities but to the power of the human mind to meet life with dignity, clarity, and integrity.

From my grandfather Verus, I learned good morals and the government of my temper (Book 1, Page 1).

Gratitude, here, takes the place of worship. Aurelius opens not with grand statements on divine purpose but with an appreciation of his family and teachers, the values they instilled. His reverence lies in real lives, in human interactions, in the cultivation of character.

For Evidentialism, a faith not of blind belief but of inquiry, Aurelius’ approach to reverence is ideal. Values are transmitted not by decree but by example, by thoughtful engagement with others. Faith here is not about gods but about people—their wisdom, their actions, their resilience. Respect for the past merges with a constant readiness to learn and grow.

Nature does not do things in vain.

The stoic philosopher saw nature not as an object of worship but as the ultimate guide. To Aurelius, nature was not mystical but factual; its processes reveal meaning through their constancy, their predictability, their logic.

The Evidentialist looks to science with the same trust. In nature, there are patterns and principles—not designed for us, but present all the same, indifferent yet intelligible. Through understanding nature, we understand our own place. Aurelius’ words mirror Evidentialism’s aim: to accept the world as it is and to find meaning in that acceptance, without illusions of control or demands for reward.

The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.

Stoic philosophy is built on the acceptance of obstacles, on the belief that adversity shapes us, refines our thoughts and actions. This notion—the idea that obstacles don’t just block but direct—reflects Evidentialism’s respect for trial, error, and progress. In science, setbacks aren’t failures but data, indicators of a path not taken or a truth not yet fully grasped. Learning, in this framework, means working through barriers rather than avoiding them. Knowledge grows not despite challenge but because of it, evolving as new questions arise and new challenges are met. The obstacle is not an end; it is a necessary part of discovery.

It is in your power whenever you shall choose to retire into yourself.

Aurelius often reminds himself of the power of introspection. Faith here is private, a practice not of public proclamation but of inner discipline.

This aligns naturally with Evidentialism, which lacks sermons, creeds, or ritual displays. Instead, it fosters a quiet, personal reflection on truth, integrity, and self-improvement. For Evidentialists, introspection becomes a ritual, a means of reconnecting with one’s own reason and ethical center. This inward retreat seeks no divine answer but instead examines one’s own beliefs and actions, understanding that true power lies in self-control and honest reflection.

All is ephemeral, both memory and the object of memory.

There is peace in the acceptance of impermanence. Aurelius reminds himself and us that life, memory, and all things are temporary.

For Evidentialists, this acknowledgment becomes a foundation. With no afterlife, no supernatural promise, meaning is found in the brief, vivid arc of existence. Knowing that all things pass frees us from attachment, from the illusion of permanence. In place of an eternity, we find beauty in transience, seeing life not as something to be preserved forever but as something to be experienced fully.

This stoic acceptance of mortality mirrors the Evidentialist’s respect for reality, for the limitations of our own experience, and for the universe that will continue on without us.

If it is not right, do not do it; if it is not true, do not say it.

Truth and integrity—the twin pillars of Stoic ethics. Aurelius demands honesty, not as a rule imposed from above, but as a personal responsibility.

Evidentialism, likewise, rests on the principle of intellectual honesty, a commitment to truth that surpasses convenience or comfort. In a worldview driven by evidence, truth is sacred. It is not something to bend or manipulate; it is the foundation on which all understanding rests. The call to act only on truth is a call to each person’s integrity, asking them to be accountable not to gods but to reality itself. This is faith not as a duty but as a conscious choice, a self-guided moral code.

You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.

The Stoic reminder of mortality, memento mori, is not meant to instill fear but perspective. Knowing we could die at any moment, Aurelius urges us to live fully, intentionally.

This outlook complements Evidentialism’s embrace of mortality. Without promises of an afterlife, life’s fleeting nature becomes an impetus for moral urgency and intellectual rigor. Every action, every thought, becomes important, meaningful. Life is limited; therefore, it is precious. This sense of urgency leads to a pursuit of knowledge and understanding, a commitment to living wisely and compassionately, knowing that our time is finite.

We were born to work together, like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower.

For Aurelius, humanity’s strength lies in cooperation. Community is a natural law, a necessary aspect of human life.

Evidentialism, too, values the collective pursuit of knowledge and understanding. Science and discovery flourish in communities, in shared endeavors. We advance knowledge not in isolation but together, contributing to a body of work that transcends individual lives. Aurelius’ vision of people as interconnected, like parts of a single body, captures this communal spirit. We are not merely individuals but parts of a greater whole, each adding to the shared understanding of humanity.

Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.

The Meditations does not instruct through myth or miracle. It is a manual for a life of reason, a life attuned to nature, a life in harmony with reality.

Evidentialism, in adopting Meditations as its guiding text, finds not dogma but a blueprint for thought, a way to move through the world with humility, curiosity, and respect. Where other faiths might ask for blind belief, Aurelius’ words call us to personal responsibility, to question, to seek, to understand.

In this, Evidentialism and Stoicism find their shared essence: faith not in what is unseen but in what is real, in the beauty of existence as it is.

Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.

Evidentialism, Part II


Clearly, it’s Evidentialism’s time.

After America officially declared itself a cult nation, the time has come to kill the cult.

The election results have shown us, once again, where America stands. This wasn’t just a choice of parties, policies, or candidates. It was a choice between reality and denial, between reason and delusion. It was a choice to remain shackled to cult-like devotion or to embrace a future rooted in truth. We chose the former.

Evidentialism offers a different path.

Evidentialism is not just another belief system. It’s an invitation to rethink what faith could be, grounded not in superstition but in science, not in prophecy but in possibility.

It doesn’t ask for blind allegiance; it asks for curiosity. It doesn’t promise salvation; it invites us to learn, to question, to grow.

Cults thrive on unshakable faith, blind allegiance, and control. They feed on fear, bigotry, and the promise of salvation for some at the cost of damning others.

In America, cult thinking has sunk into the roots of our politics. It preys on those who need hope, selling them easy answers and demanding loyalty in return. The results are division, distrust, and denial on a national scale.

This is the America we’ve come to know—a place where belief eclipses reason, where ideology overwhelms evidence, and where leaders are chosen not for competence, but for charisma and conformity to the party line.

America’s most enduring cults? Christianity, Islam, Judaism. Death cults, born of Iron Age goat herders, latching onto a world that has moved on.

These religions were written in an age of superstition, a time when disease was seen as punishment, and women were seen as property.

These texts are woven with prejudices, prescribing submission, obedience, and disdain for outsiders. And they’ve been used for centuries to justify every kind of injustice—from slavery to war to the subjugation of half the human race.

They insist they hold the keys to morality, yet their values are stuck in a past of blood sacrifice and brutal punishment. These texts teach followers to distrust those who look different, love differently, or think freely. They offer certainty, but at the cost of compassion. And as long as they rule our lives, true progress is stifled.

In Evidentialism, there are no chosen people, no inherent worthiness or shame based on birth, race, or gender.

There is no room for misogyny, racism, or prejudice because science doesn’t support them. Scientific data shows our shared humanity, our shared biology, our shared struggle for understanding in a vast and complex universe.

Evidentialism isn’t about following a prophet; it’s about following questions—questions that lead us deeper into the unknown, into the beauty of the mysteries around us.

Evidentialism offers a community grounded in reality, not fantasy. Instead of sermons, there are talks, discussions, open forums where ideas are exchanged, and new knowledge is celebrated.

Imagine gatherings that inspire, where people learn and grow together, and where curiosity is the highest virtue. It would be like a TED Talk but with substance and depth, a place where ideas matter more than beliefs. Instead of fear and shame, the focus is on optimism, the joy of discovery, and the shared wonder at our place in the universe.

Imagine a country where leaders are elected not for how well they appeal to tribalism but for their commitment to truth, their integrity, and their expertise. Where debates are grounded in evidence, where policies are crafted from data, and where governance reflects our best understanding, not our worst fears.

Instead of rule by dogma, we’d have a government inspired by science, one that looks to solve problems, not to divide people.

It won’t be easy. Breaking free from cult thinking is hard. It’s painful. It demands that we admit where we’ve been misled, where we’ve allowed ignorance to guide us. It demands more from us than faith alone.

But this work, this commitment to knowledge, is what can move us forward.

True change doesn’t come from doubling down on ancient beliefs; it comes from embracing new ideas. When we open our eyes to reality, we gain the freedom to address our most urgent problems with clarity and resolve.

We face environmental crises, political corruption, and social divides that demand more than superstition. They demand evidence, action, and people who understand that the future is a choice, not a destiny.

Evidentialism sees this world—not a promised afterlife—as the place where our actions matter most. It’s not about promises of paradise or threats of hellfire. It’s about making this life, this world, the best it can be. It’s about asking, learning, and building together. It’s about being accountable to each other, not to an ancient text or imagined deity.

America has had its fill of empty promises, of leaders who sell salvation while peddling division.

The time has come to choose a different path—a path of curiosity, of courage, of genuine progress.

The time has come for a new way to find meaning in a chaotic world—one based on what we can know and what we can build together.

The time has come to replace dogma with inquiry. To choose a future that is awake, alive, and always searching.

Clearly, it’s Evidentialism’s time. Kill the cult.

The Subjective Reality Hypothesis


What we believe shapes our reality.

The Subjective Reality Hypothesis asserts: Your truth is what you sincerely believe, until you believe otherwise. This concept challenges our understanding of proof, perception, and the nature of existence itself.

A drunk man believes he can fly. He leaps from a window. In his mind, he soars—until the human jelly that is his remains believe in the physics the man did not.

But here’s the head-scratcher: What was the man’s reality? Did he truly fly in those moments before impact, his consciousness creating a reality of flight, however fleeting? What can exist beyond our perception of its existence?

Now, imagine you’re invited to a party. If you genuinely believe you’re funny, engaging, and worth inviting, you become the living embodiment of that belief. Your confidence radiates, your jokes land, and your presence becomes magnetic. You’ve transformed into the person you believed yourself to be, not through deception, but through the sheer power of conviction.

This concept extends beyond individuals. When groups hold conflicting beliefs, each sees their version as absolute truth. To them, it’s as real as gravity, persisting until challenged by undeniable evidence.

But here’s where our digital age complicates matters: Social media has made “undeniable evidence” increasingly problematic, if not impossible. Echo chambers, algorithmic feeds, and the ease of finding like-minded communities online have created parallel realities. What’s undeniable to one group is easily dismissed by another. The drunk man’s fall is now up for debate, with some arguing he actually flew.

This fracturing of shared reality pushes us to consider: What if consciousness itself is fundamental to reality?

Imagine a color that no human has ever seen. Can it exist if it’s never been perceived? Or consider the countless radio waves passing through us at this moment, invisible and unfelt. Do they exist in our reality before we build a device to detect them? Perhaps our reality is not a fixed stage, but a dynamic interplay between consciousness and potential, constantly evolving as our ability to perceive and believe expands.

This line of thinking suggests that consciousness might be the bedrock of existence. Our beliefs and perceptions don’t just interpret reality—they create it. The universe might be a vast field of potential, collapsing into definite states only when observed or believed in.

If consciousness is fundamental, the Subjective Reality Hypothesis has profound implications for religion, politics, and economics:

  1. Religion: Your spiritual beliefs don’t just guide your actions—they shape your actual reality. If you sincerely believe in a higher power, that entity becomes real in your experience. Heaven, hell, karma, or reincarnation aren’t just concepts, but tangible aspects of existence for those who truly believe. This explains why religious experiences feel so real to believers, yet remain inaccessible to skeptics.
  2. Politics: Political ideologies aren’t just sets of ideas—they’re reality-creating forces. If you genuinely believe in a political system, you start to see evidence of its effectiveness everywhere. This is why two people can look at crime rate and see radically different realities: a utopia for one, a dystopia for another. Your political beliefs don’t just influence your vote; they shape the very world you inhabit.
  3. Economics: Your economic beliefs don’t just affect your financial decisions—they mold your economic reality. If you believe deeply in a particular economic theory — say, Effective Altruism or Universal Basic Income — you’ll see proof of its validity in every transaction, every market shift. This is why economists can look at the same data and draw wildly different conclusions. Your economic worldview doesn’t just interpret the market; it actively participates in creating it.

This view doesn’t negate external reality, or exonerate a Trumpian leader’s delusions. Instead, it suggests a deeper, more complex interplay between belief, consciousness, and the nature of existence itself—one that’s increasingly mediated by our digital landscape.

In this light, challenging our beliefs isn’t just personal growth—it’s an act of reality creation. If our beliefs shape our reality, then we have the power to create a better one — not just metaphorically, but literally. By choosing to believe in human potential, we may actually bring these realities into existence.

The Subjective Reality Hypothesis doesn’t trap us in isolated bubbles of belief; rather, it empowers us to collectively see a better world into being.

Are we passive observers, or active creators of our existence? Particularly here, particularly now, the answer just might lie in what we choose to believe.