Hello, reader. Yes, I'm addressing you. I'm posting this here so I no longer have to keep this dialogue in my head.

It's often said that one's greatest enemy is oneself. That's why I started writing on this blog. Writing isn't just about writing for others.

In my quest for philosophy, just as in my quest for what I should think about life or finding my bearings, nothing is easy. I'm assailed by doubts, I constantly build counter-arguments against my own positions, going so far as to unearth the worst unreal, anti-rational, unreasonable absurdities to see how clear my vision is. And the debate is difficult, because my adversary is none other than myself.

And one can neither lie to oneself, nor hide, nor reveal oneself. It's a formidable adversary, who makes me doubt all my certainties, even pushing me into a strange madness. It never stops, hidden in a corner of my mind, ready to throw magnificent "ha, you think that to reassure yourself!" or "heh, a rational person wouldn't think like that", or even "it would be nice if it were true... but it isn't, you're lying to yourself". The advantage of such an adversary is that it stands firm, tireless, always sharp, ready to pounce on the slightest methodological blur or the first shoddy argument.

It's this poisoned self that brought me back to a proper study of religion, philosophy, belief, science, metaphysics. Without it, I wouldn't be who I am. At worst, I would be a lukewarm believer, reciting Kant all day long, oscillating between fear and euphoria, who knows full well that his beliefs are only a palliative smoke screen for real questions that frighten him; or, at best, an agnostic ietsist-atheist, shaking his head saying "we can't know anything", not taking a position for fear that the worst might happen, as if subject to a superstitious pathos believing that reality listens to his selfish emotions.

This incisive "self" has been present since I was little. I knew very early the presence of death within my circle, the fear of the unknown, the dread of infinity, the anguish of nothingness. Far from childlike carefreeness, my first fears were only "the Dark", a diffuse and opaque formless shape, like a specter of void, of nothingness, that populated areas devoid of light, and confused concepts. I didn't fear monsters, because at least, I told myself, that was a presence. No, I was afraid of "the Dark", this hope-smotherer that gobbled up everything that moves, fed by absence, infinity, the eternal, the transcendent, nothingness.

I have immense respect for the skeptical approach. Not for skeptics, nor atheists, for there is no honest skeptic. Skepticism is just a game that some play to push reasoning and clarify the shadowy areas of reasoning, false meanings and confused concepts. But quickly, once certain (dubious!) certainties are laid down as plausible, the skeptic mutates into a frank pragmatist or even a utilitarian (for the most honest), hiding strange presuppositions.

However, I must rephrase this sentence with a little more restraint: I have immense respect for the skeptical approach, up to a point. It was only when my mind rubbed against the skeptical approach, and the most opposing viewpoints (thank you Dawkins, thank you Rosenberg, thank you others), that "the Dark" of anguish and anti-metaphysical fragility finally began to give way.

Man fears the unknown. Empty phrases. Vague concepts. Unresolved paradoxes. And reading authors opposed to my beliefs finally gave food for thought to this too-curious part of me. Gone the confused, the advantage of a fierce and direct opponent is that it forces one to reveal oneself.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, funny way to present yourself in two dissonant voices. It seems you've only learned from your opponent the desire to confirm your truth, my dear.

Not in the least. I was finally able to abandon certain philosophical pretensions that I had considered since birth as logical and necessarily true. Nothing feels better than leaving one's truth to progress toward the truth.

Heh. So, the dialogue you propose is a dialogue between me and myself. Why?

Because nothing and no one is sharper than the knife one can stab oneself with. I love discussing with others, for two reasons. First, their reflections feed mine and nourish them; and second, I often find positions far less unrealistic and dangerous than mine in terms of opposition.

Hmpf. Are you insinuating that you are more dangerous than others? What about an atheist, a materialist, a nihilist, a skeptic, you who hate them so much?

I'm delighted to converse with them, because the dialogue remains human. Others, regardless of their convictions, are always affected by limits and humanity that you don't show. What I hate is the unbearable caricature I'm forced to make to test an idea. You're only the rationalizing part of my mind, always seeking a truth or a flaw to bite into. You're only the mechanical part of my reasoning, and you must be constantly fed so that you finally shut up.

Well, well. So you're mechanizing me, you who love machines so much? I thought your main activity was to do ever more in systems, information and automation.

Let's not forget the human connection, my dear. As much as the discourse you deliver makes sense, its captious airs say no less. As Gilson mentioned, "Men are very desirous of finding the truth, but very reluctant to accept it."

Better and better. I prefer when you read Sartre, Nietzsche, or Camus. There lies the true essence of your mind. Realizing that you're just a puppet running an internet blog in order to reassure yourself about 'BeLiEfS' that are rational in name only.

Pfft. Until now, I've been careful that you can't say anything about any sentence I write. And I don't hear you grumbling when reading my posts. So... anyway. I think the reader has waited long enough. It's time to launch the first thrust of these Socratic dialogues in two voices, eh?

As you wish...

Perfect. In a way, you have no choice. I'll let you open with a topic, as you desire. To deepen my knowledge... and yours.

"Knowledge", huh? What better than a topic on skepticism, then? What if I told you that your quest for truth is nonsense? Like, God isn't knowable by Reason, and the world is at best veiled, at worst unknown... Yeah, good radical skepticism. Want some herbal tea and a soft caramel before going to bed?

I have the impression that the nonsense is what you're serving me. Well, what I'm serving myself, I mean. So be it, the subject is difficult, but approachable. I'm preparing my arguments, see you soon, very dear.

I'm counting on it.

This is going to be live fire.