One of my favourite philosophical concepts is the "useful fiction."
An idea that you pretend is true, even if you know it's not true, because pretending offers some insight into the world or a framework for understanding complexity.
Or maybe it just acts as a defence against some facet of human stupidity.
For example, if you know anything about guns, you know that the first rule of gun safety is to treat all guns, no matter what, as if they're loaded.
Never point a gun at something that isn't a target, keep your finger clear of the trigger until you've decided to shoot, and if you're not planning to shoot, perform a visual check of the chamber, receiver and magazine to ensure they're empty.
You do this every time you pick up a gun.
You train yourself to do this whether you're alone or in a crowd. You do it whether you're in training or a firefight. You do it even if you're convinced that the gun is empty.
And you do this because it protects you from other people's incompetence. You do it because it protects other people from your incompetence. You do it because one day, when you know for a fact that a gun is safe, you'll be wrong.
For society to run smoothly, we indulge in several other useful--if equally unlikely--fictions.
Freedom of speech rests on the provably false belief that everyone has something worthwhile to say.
Democracy, as H. L. Mencken put it, is the improbable theory that "the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard."
And the presumption of innocence enshrines the statistical impossibility that we're not guilty unless someone can prove it.
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