The Danger of Certainties
1. From Individual Convictions to Collective Certainties
No human being develops in isolation. We inherit a culture, a family history, beliefs, values, and ways of understanding the world. Some of our convictions result from personal reflection; others are passed down to us before we are even capable of questioning them.
Over time, these ideas become reference points and, sometimes, unquestionable truths. They may be religious, financial, psychological, ideological, political, tribal, relational, racial, or aristocratic. They shape our relationship with wealth, power, success, justice, and others.
When shared by a group, these beliefs become collective constructs. Tradition, authority, repetition, and a sense of belonging reinforce their apparent self-evidence. Each person finds confirmation of what they already believe in the people around them.
The problem begins when we confuse what has been passed down to us with universal truth, what is customary with what is right, or what benefits us with what is legitimate.
A conviction can be old, widely shared, and deeply rooted without being right.
2. When Certainty Becomes a Moral License
The real danger emerges when we stop evaluating our actions in the light of moral principles and begin judging them solely by our convictions, interests, or sense of belonging.
A speculator may justify exploiting investors by appealing to the rules of the market. A religious fundamentalist may invoke sacred truth to legitimize coercion or violence. An activist may excuse abuses committed by their own side in the name of a higher cause. A privileged person may regard their position as proof of their merit, while a parent or partner may impose their choices by claiming to know what is best for someone else.
The circumstances differ, but the mechanism is similar: each person constructs a narrative that allows them to preserve a positive image of themselves while minimizing the consequences of their actions.
“It’s the law of the market.”
“It’s for the greater good.”
“It’s our tradition.”
“It’s necessary to defend our cause.”
“I know better than you what’s good for you.”
These justifications gradually transform self-interest, loyalty, or obedience into moral permissions. Deception becomes realism, domination becomes protection, exclusion becomes the preservation of order, and violence becomes a necessary sacrifice.
When an entire group shares these rationalizations, individual responsibility begins to dissolve. What would have been condemned in isolation becomes normal practice, sometimes even something to be praised.
History shows how religious, political, racial, and national convictions have been used to justify persecution, the deprivation of liberty, and mass violence. On a different scale, the same mechanisms can encourage financial fraud, humiliation in relationships, or the exploitation of vulnerable people.
The point is not to place all these situations on the same level, but to recognize a common logic: when a cause becomes untouchable, the means used to defend it risk becoming untouchable as well.
3. Racist and Religious Certainties: When a Supposedly Superior Truth Becomes a License to Dominate
Some certainties are particularly dangerous because they do more than define what we believe to be right: they claim to determine who deserves respect, who must obey, and who may be excluded.
Racism is a major example. It involves, among other things, the construction of a hierarchy between human beings based on their origins, skin color, or presumed ethnic identity. It is not limited to hostility toward someone who is different. It can also take the form of a deeply rooted belief that certain groups are naturally more deserving, more capable, or more worthy than others.
This certainty turns prejudices into supposed truths, and inequalities into conditions presented as normal or deserved. The privileges enjoyed by some become proof of their superiority, while the difficulties experienced by others are attributed to their origins rather than to circumstances, discrimination, or social barriers.
When difference is perceived as a threat, exclusion can be presented as protection, discrimination as a legitimate preference, and the denial of rights as a collective necessity. In its most extreme forms, this logic has helped justify segregation, persecution, and mass violence.
The mechanism protects itself: the achievements of targeted groups are minimized, their difficulties are generalized, and contradictory evidence is dismissed. Prejudice eventually presents itself as self-evident, even though this supposed obviousness has been created and sustained by those who believe in it.
Racism becomes particularly dangerous when it no longer presents itself as prejudice, but as a natural truth that supposedly entitles some human beings to treat others as inferior.
Religious fundamentalism can operate according to a comparable logic, even though its foundations are different. Depending on the movement and context, it is characterized in particular by the desire to impose a rigid interpretation of religion and subject individuals or society to prescriptions regarded as unquestionable.
The danger emerges when a group claims exclusive possession of divine truth and grants itself the authority to decide on behalf of others, control their choices, or punish them for their beliefs and behavior. Doubt becomes a fault, disagreement becomes betrayal, and freedom of conscience becomes a threat to the sacred order being defended.
Within this logic, coercion can be presented as a duty, humiliation as correction, kidnapping as a mission, and violence as a necessary sacrifice. People may be deprived of their freedom, families separated, and innocent individuals attacked because their persecutors are convinced they are serving a higher truth.
The belief that one is acting in the name of divine authority can then shift the burden of moral responsibility. The individual no longer sees themselves as the author of a choice for which they must answer, but as the executor of a will supposedly greater than their own. They may thus justify actions they would condemn if committed by another group or in the name of another belief.
This mechanism is not specific to any one religion, nor should it lead us to confuse believers with fundamentalist movements. Rather, it invites us to question any interpretation that makes itself untouchable and refuses to answer for the suffering it causes.
No claim to possess divine truth should exempt a human being from being held accountable for their actions in the name of conscience, human dignity, and the freedom of others.
Whether the claim is one of racial superiority, absolute religious truth, economic power, or ideological loyalty, the danger emerges when a conviction seeks to establish a hierarchy between human beings and free itself from all moral responsibility.
4. Certainties, Human Dignity, and the Living World
This logic does not concern human relationships alone. It also shapes the way we treat animals and nature.
When a person is reduced to a cost, an adversary, an origin, or a social status, their dignity becomes easier to ignore. When an animal is regarded as a mere product, or nature as a reservoir of resources, suffering and destruction can become secondary to profit, comfort, or tradition.
We may thus justify harmful practices by invoking their profitability, longevity, usefulness, or compliance with existing rules. An economic actor may ignore human harm in the name of performance; a community may defend a practice in the name of tradition; an individual may refuse to change their habits because they regard their own needs as paramount.
Yet legality does not always guarantee justice, tradition does not make every practice acceptable, and power does not confer unlimited rights over more vulnerable beings.
Our decisions can also affect people who cannot make their voices heard, particularly future generations.
The point is not to deny human needs or indiscriminately condemn all economic activity, religion, or tradition. It is to refuse to let our convictions exempt us from examining the consequences of our choices.
An action does not become morally right simply because it is profitable, permitted, customary, or carried out in the name of a higher cause.
5. Warning Signs: When Our Certainties Begin to Control Us
No one is entirely immune to this form of blindness. We readily imagine that those imprisoned by their certainties are other people: fanatics, unscrupulous speculators, authoritarian leaders, or those whose ideas we disapprove of.
Yet certain signs should prompt us to examine ourselves:
We can no longer tolerate disagreement and regard every criticism as an attack.
We impose rules on others that we refuse to apply to ourselves.
We justify behavior by our allies that we would condemn in our opponents.
We reduce others to their origins, beliefs, status, or group affiliation.
We invoke our good intentions to minimize the suffering we cause.
We refuse to acknowledge our mistakes and turn every objection into proof of someone else’s bad faith.
We no longer see the people, animals, or natural environments bearing the costs of our decisions.
We confuse our ability to impose a decision with a moral right to impose it.
We can no longer bring ourselves to say, “I don’t know” or “I was wrong.”
Taken individually, these signs do not prove a moral failing. But when they become habitual, they may reveal that our need to be right is overpowering our ability to judge our own actions.
6. Questions to Help Us Remain Free from Our Certainties
Vigilance does not mean abandoning all our convictions. It means retaining the ability to examine and revise them.
Before defending an idea or making an important decision, we can ask ourselves a few essential questions.
About truth:
What evidence actually supports my conviction?
What could convince me that I am wrong?
Am I seeking the truth, or merely confirming my existing opinion?
About my interests:
Does this conviction protect a personal or collective advantage?
Would I hold the same opinion if my circumstances were different?
Am I confusing what I have the power to do with what I have the moral right to do?
About responsibility:
Who benefits from my decision, and who bears its consequences?
Am I concealing certain consequences because they contradict the image I have of myself?
Could I honestly defend my behavior before those who suffer its effects?
About others:
Do I recognize in others the same dignity I claim for myself?
Can I acknowledge an injustice even when it is committed by my own group?
Do I respect their consent, boundaries, and freedom?
About the living world:
Does my comfort or profit depend on suffering I would rather not see?
Have I considered the consequences of my choices for animals, ecosystems, and future generations?
About myself:
What am I afraid of losing if I admit that I am wrong?
Am I attached to the truth, or to the image of someone who is always right?
When was the last time I changed my mind after hearing a compelling argument?
These questions do not automatically provide the right answers. Their purpose is to reopen a space for reflection where certainty had closed the door.
Conclusion: Having Convictions Without Surrendering Our Conscience
We need convictions to act, love, choose, and give meaning to our lives. But no conviction should become an unlimited license to deceive, dominate, exclude, or cause suffering.
We can defend a cause without justifying every means used to advance it, belong to a community without excusing its abuses, and pursue a goal without reducing others to mere instruments.
This requires us to accept disagreement, distinguish our intentions from the consequences of our actions, and listen to those who bear those consequences. Changing our minds in response to better evidence is not a weakness. Acknowledging a mistake does not mean losing all worth as a person; it gives us the opportunity to make amends and learn.
The danger begins when we place an idea above all questioning, our group above the dignity of others, our interests above all responsibility, or our cause above life itself.
True strength does not consist in being certain that we are right, but in remaining capable of recognizing that we may be wrong, especially when other beings pay the price for our mistakes.
The real challenge, therefore, is not to live without certainties, but to never allow our certainties to become more important than our conscience.
And perhaps, before making any decision that may affect others, we should ask ourselves one final question:
If I did not need to be right, if I did not have to defend my group, my status, my wealth, my faith, or the image I have of myself, what would then be the fairest, least destructive, and most life-respecting decision?
As Socrates suggested through the famous phrase attributed to him, “I know that I know nothing,” true wisdom may begin when we become aware of the limits of our own knowledge. The more deeply we explore science, philosophy, and the knowledge accumulated by humanity, the more we discover the complexity of reality, the questions that remain unanswered, and the limitations of our own interpretations. Every discovery raises new questions and reminds us that what we consider true today may be incomplete or may one day be challenged. Erudition should therefore not reinforce our sense of superiority, but nurture our humility; knowledge should not make us more arrogant in our convictions, but more cautious in our judgments. For the more we understand the extent of what we do not know, the less reason we have to claim possession of absolute truth.
