The present redefines the past, and the choices I make presently transform what it was I was choosing when I made previous choices. If I choose to go to college and meet the woman I am going to marry there, college suddenly becomes “the place where I met my wife,” as if it was “always” that place. It’s as if the moment “reached back in time” and redefined everything that was, is, and would be, changing what I chose when I chose to attend college. This is what I call a “flip moment” — a redefining experience that changes “what is” as if “what is” was “always” such.
In a way, every moment is a “flip moment”: every present action redefines “what is” in light of that action as if “what is” was “always” (going to be) such. If I choose to fill a cup I have with juice, when I chose to take a cup earlier to fill it with water, I was actually taking the cup to fill it with juice. Though I intended to drink water, when I took the cup, I was choosing to drink something else, as if it was “always” such. When I stand up instead of sit, it is suddenly as if everything that led me up to this moment was leading me to stand, when had I chosen to stay seated, it would have been as if everything that lead me to the present was leading me to sit. My present choices always redefine “always.”
At first glance, “flip moments” may seem to be an inconsequential concept, but when it comes to fields of study like Economics and cases that are legitimized or overturned by “flip moments,” the concept is very important. If I argue that the economy is fundamentally weak even though Wall Street is currently very strong, I may argue that until interest rates are allowed to rise, the economy is able to hide its fundamental weakness. And if interest rates do go up and the economy crashes, the “flip moment” in which rates rise is the moment in which it is unveiled that the economy was “always” fundamentally weak, and it is suddenly “as if” the economy never grew or recovered from a past crash. But until that moment, those who claim the economy is fundamentally weak cannot be confirmed and could easily be called “fear-mongers” (and all evidence — a strong Wall Street, for example — would seem to legitimize this claim). And for those who claim the economy is fundamentally strong, if interest rates rise and the economy maintains course, it will suddenly be realized that the economy was “always” fundamentally strong (and that the stimulus “always” worked, for example). But before interest rates rise, if someone concerned about market fundamentals speaks with someone who believes the market has recovered, since the “flip moment” of rising interest rates hasn’t occurred yet, the two will probably talk past one another, perhaps not knowing why it is they seem to speak different languages.
Evidence for a strong economy won’t be legitimate in the eyes of the person who thinks the market is fundamentally weak, as evidence against the strong economy won’t stand up to the person believing in economic growth. The “flip moment” is needed to end the debate, and until that moment, it’s not clear which case phenomena function as evidence “toward” (seeing as phenomena do not “wear on their face” what case(s) they justify). “Flip moments” change what phenomena are evidence “toward” (as if they were “always” “toward” it), and when it comes to Economics and other fields, cases are usually contingent upon some “flip moment” when a given case and interpretation of phenomena into “evidence toward x” are justified. Failure to realize this has contributed to disagreeing thinkers talking past and vilifying one another, as well as contributed to a lack of healthy and humbling uncertainty in our world where uncertainty is life.
The image I have in mind when I use the phrase “flip moment” is of a switch being flipped to send a train down one track versus another. And from that moment, it’s “as if” the train was always going to travel down the chosen path: it’s “as if” there was never a moment when it was equally possible for the train to go either way (the “possibility moment” is suddenly eclipsed by the “flip moment” into meaninglessness and nonbeing, as if alternatives never had a “real” chance). At the “flip moment,” if there was an alternative possibility that could have been realized, that possibility is suddenly “meaningless” — no more meaningful than the possibility of the train suddenly exploding or taking flight. At every moment, there are countless possibilities, but not all possibilities are equally possible: some are more “potentially real” than others. But once a possibility is realized, the more realistic possibilities blur out of distinction with the less realistic possibilities, and hence fade from “meaningful” consideration. But there was still once a time when the consideration was meaningful, and if this is forgotten, future decision making might be less effective, for we will think the right course is “always” the right course, when this “always” is an illusion of hindsight (we likely fumble with indecision more than it seems).
As a train approaches where there is a switch in the tracks, as determined by a “flip of the switch,” given that (they absolutely didn’t know) one way lead to certain death, the conductors could make a good argument that the train should go either way: both directions are “equally feasible” before the “flip moment” (even if one way is “actually” better). Before the “flip moment,” the train is in a state of “both-ness,” if you will (like Schrödinger’s Cat): it can go either way. Once the train travels one way though, it establishes a “causal link” between the past events that brought the train to its present and the direction the train chose to travel in. Suddenly, the events “cause and effect” (as if “necessarily” so), when had the train gone another way, the events that would have causally happened would be different and yet equally seem “necessarily” so (as if they “always” had to turn out as they did). Phenomenological, reality never appears to us as “potentials” — it always appears to us as “realized” — and so reality always appears to us “dressed in” determinism/causality, per se: it always strikes us as “necessarily” the way it is and as if it was “always” going to turn out the way it turned out. And this fools us. Yes, when asked directly, people realize that reality is composed of potentials, but in practice, humans often forget this pivotal truth, contributing to poor discernment.
Though potentiality is an integral dimension of reality, we never experience it directly: we always experience it “behind” a mask of non-potentiality, “the realized,” and/or “the actual.” What we experience hides from us “the ground” out of which the experiential sprouts, contributing to us formulating false understandings of reality (which is further probable in a society that values “low order complexity” over “high order complexity,” to allude to “Experiencing Thinking” by O.G. Rose). As discussed in “Incentives to Problem Solve” by O.G. Rose, humans are prone to “reality prejudice” — to considering the real(ized) or physical as superior to the conceptual or metaphysical — as a consequence of how thinking and being structure reality “toward” us. “What is” strikes us as much more “solid,” per se, then it actually is — it strikes us as an “always so,” when another, alternatively realized manifestation of spacetime would identically strike us. Consequently, we give primacy to “realized potential” over “unrealized potential,” as we tend to, for example, give primacy to “sensualized sadness” over “unsensualized sadness” (as discussed in “Sensualization” by O.G. Rose), and though this is appropriate to a degree, it can impede discernment. Spacetime courses are equally real in potential, and though it is fair to say the realized course is “more real,” it is not the cause that the course was “always more real” (it just seems that way upon realization).
Though the importance of “flip moments” isn’t restricted to Economics, when it comes to that field of thought in particular, failure to be aware of “flip moments” can greatly impede discernment about economic policy and understanding the differences between Austrian and Keynesian thought (for example). This is because in Economics, there is debt. Ultimately, the difference between Austrians and Keynesians is a disagreement about what will happen at a “flip moment,” and both systems can be erected consistently and rationally relative to their individual beliefs (relative to their “being true,” if you will, to allude to “The True Isn’t the Rational” by O.G. Rose). By identifying that the difference between Keynesians and Austrians is ultimately a disagreement over a “flip moment” — mainly, when debt is called in, or interest rates rise — I hope that the two camps can better communicate with one another.
The moment in which it is “unveiled” that debt is investment is the same moment when it is “unveiled” that debt is spending; the moment that unveils a growing Wall Street is evidence of an actually growing economy is the same moment that may unveil a growing Wall Street is evidence of an artificially stimulated economy (like the Apocalypse could unveil God’s Existence). The evidence for or against either Austrian or Keynesian economics is relative to the “flip moment” — the event in which “evidence for x” is confirmed as “evidence for x,” or that “evidence of x” is unveiled to actually be “evidence for y” as if such was “always” the case. And in fact, it was “always” the case, in a sense, but it wasn’t until the “flip moment” that what constituted “always” could be discerned. The ability to determine what is “always” true sometimes takes time to develop.
But can’t it be determined what will happen in a “flip moment” ahead of time? Can’t we tell, for example, if we’ll be able to finance our debts when the debts are called in? Yes and no. When it comes to Public Debt, if the country owes numerous trillions but the annual GDP is ten trillion, then we would have reason to say that we can finance the debt, but at the same time, we couldn’t necessarily say that we could finance the debt without significant public pain. Perhaps we could; perhaps we couldn’t; time will tell. Furthermore, when that much money is in question, it becomes incredibly difficult to keep up with it all and to know for sure what percent of the debt is “spending” versus what degree is “investment.” Overall, when there is debt, there is uncertainty, and at best it seems there can be educated guesses about the degree the debt is financing growth that can cover costs. Furthermore, if we believe spending a million dollars now will lead to the creation of five million dollars tomorrow, there is a period of time between the initial payment and the return, and we will only receive the return if what we assume will happen in fact happens, which is not completely certain until the “flip moment.” Until then, uncertainty and possibly anxiety are inescapable.
To use an image and hold to the economics example, it is as if the “flip moment” is when a curtain is raised to unveil if behind it is wealth or nothing. Until the curtain is raised, it can be equally believed that either waits on the other side, and investors can make a lot of money off speculating “the market is strong” or “the market is weak” (via daily market activity). Considering this, investors can be motivated to keep the curtain down as long as possible, and furthermore, to lift the curtain is to risk finding out that there is nothing on the other side (which could be problematic). It is ideal for the curtain to stay down forever, for if we raise it, we bring the speculation to an end and risk market collapse, and if the curtain raises and it is unveiled “the market is strong,” we don’t necessarily make any more money than we would speculating (in fact, we might make less, since a speculated market can be more volatile). Hence, assuming it is possible, it is always “rational” to keep the curtain down and avoid a “flip moment.”¹ ²
Before the “flip moment,” if the Keynesian is right and Austrian measures will destroy the economy, the Austrian will still be able to argue that debt will eventually destroy the economy. How could the Austrian be proven wrong? Until a “flip moment,” there is always uncertainty. But on the other hand, if the Austrian is correct and Keynesianism will ruin the socioeconomic order, the Keynesian will still be able to argue that debt will eventually stimulate growth and the economy. Until the “flip moment,” both the Keynesian and Austrian can “rationally” construct a case that the other side is ruining the world, and it will not be known which is which until the moment in which there is no going back. Until that moment, there will be evidence that Keynesianism isn’t working, as there will be evidence Austrian thought doesn’t work, and this evidence will give people “objective” reason to believe that it is Keynesianism that will be revealed to be at fault at the “flip moment,” as there will be reason to believe the “raising of the curtain” will condemn Austrian thought. Until there is no going back, there will always be reason not to change; neither side has to admit they’re wrong, and yet neither side has to be stubborn: the evidence is the evidence. Until collapse is risked, there will always be reason to believe the side which will save the world is condemning it, as there will always be reason to believe what dooms helps.
Though Economics has been focused on in this work so far, “flip moments” aren’t limited to that field. If I am religious, I have probably had a “religious experience” or “flip moment” that has led me to seeing the world in terms of God’s Existence, while the Atheist, perhaps in lacking this “religious experience,” hasn’t had the “flip moment” that would lead to him or her seeing the world in Theistic terms (though please note that having a “religious experience” doesn’t necessarily mean God Exists, though such might be the case). Considering A Conflict of Visions by Thomas Sowell, something similar could be said about those who have a “constrained vision” and “unconstrained vision,” as something similar could be said about Liberals and Conservatives: it is usually “flip moments” that lead a person to taking up one ideology versus another.³
If tomorrow abortion was made illegal on grounds that it discriminated against the unborn, it would suddenly be as if abortion was “always” discrimination and those who supported it were “always” guilty of injustice, even if in the name of “women’s rights.” If tomorrow polygamy was legalized on grounds of ending discrimination against polygamy, a hundred years later, a historian could find plenty of articles “proving” that people of our generation acted unjustly against polygamists. As if it was always the case, the (historic) “flip moment” would redefine the past, present, and future: the very way the world is seen would change as if it was “always” seen that way and as if anyone who didn’t see similarly wanted to see differently (and so wanted to discriminate, knowing they should know better). To understand our present world, the historian would need to see the world as the world was seen before the “flip moment”; otherwise, the picture of the past he or she paints would be profoundly different from the present we live. To accomplish this, the historian would have to fight against his or her brain, for the human brain struggles to conceive potentials without “reality prejudice” interfering (to allude to the thought of “Incentives to Problem Solve” by O.G. Rose).
“Flip moments” don’t write the past: they “re-see” it; they “re-mean” it. They change what events, actions, words, people, and the like signify; they don’t change what happens, what is said, or who exists. The change is fluid and invisible: “what is” remains, but what it “points to” changes. The way of things “always” strikes us as the way of things, deceiving us. Since nothing visible changes with “flip moments,” nothing can be said to change for sure; when there is a change, there is no change at all.
If Robert D. Putman is correct in Bowling Alone and Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis, America is collapsing socioeconomically. Our social relations are falling apart, as many Conservatives argue; the American Dream is fading. Let us pretend welfare is causing this, and yet Putman’s work is used as evidence that a larger welfare state is needed. How horribly ironic, no? But let us say welfare would in fact fix the problem, but welfare isn’t used, because it is believed welfare would contribute to the problem. Horribly ironic, no? Let us say welfare is used and the situation is resolved; let us say welfare is abolished and the situation is abolished with it. Considering both possibilities, note that when welfare is erased, it will suddenly be unveiled if welfare is helping the problem or preserving it — the abolishment of welfare would be a “flip moment.” But to find out if welfare works or not, the same event is required, an event that if it occurs or is caused, grave consequences must be risked. And if poverty expands, it will suddenly be as if it was “always” clear that welfare improved the situation; and if poverty reduces, it will suddenly be as if it was “always” obvious that welfare preserved the problem. But what if welfare is erased and the economy collapses in the short term, yet if the course is kept, in the long run, the economy will be stronger than ever before? But what if welfare is erased, the economy collapses, and policy-makers, believing things will eventually improve, don’t change course, and poverty expands and no one does anything to stop it, believing things will eventually work out for the best?
And so on.
When it is possible to choose, choosing a “flip moment” can entail incredible existential angst. Great risk must be taken, risk that once taken, a person cannot easily reverse, and this can lead to existential tension. If welfare was erased to help the poor, this would necessarily entail risking a worsening of poverty; if stimulus was enacted to save a failing economy, this would necessarily risk a growth of Wall Street that doesn’t help Main Street; if a nation was invaded to end the evil reign of a dictator, this would necessarily risk the collapse of the nation into civil conflicts. Doing the right thing can require a person to risk doing the wrong thing, and this truth can cause incredible anxiety. And if we are in a position of power in which we must choose a course, we cannot know if the course we take is the right course until it is too late to go back. Our blind choice is final.
Before such a “flip moment,” the two courses — of a world in which the end of welfare dooms the poor and a world in which it frees them — can be equally plausible; lacking the “flip moment,” one cannot be said for sure to be “more true” than the other. Yes, we can amass data, studies, historical lessons, etc. which would give us strong reason to believe one course is superior to the other, but we cannot know for sure, and considering all the unintended consequences and events that would follow from our choice, it is doubtful we could calculate all that would occur. Perhaps there would be consequences that would negate all the benefits; perhaps not. Before a “flip moment,” the chooser is faced with a “both-ness,” a large and overwhelming uncertainty, and the chooser is asked to choose — the chooser is asked to take responsibility for what is behind “the curtain” in the act of asking the curtain to be lifted. And so it is natural to avoid the choice, to avoid “the curtain” — to run.
As humans are natural masters at “ideology preservation” (as exploded in “The True Isn’t the Rational” by O.G. Rose), so humans naturally avoid existential weight and anxiety anyway they can. We avoid the books that will make us question what we believe, the conversation topics that will force us to acknowledge we know less than we think, the people we don’t understand, and more. This natural tendency can apply when it comes to “flip moments”: knowing that a given choice will unveil if what we believe is right or wrong, we can avoid it as long as possible, and rather just “imagine” that if the “flip moment” were to occur, what we think would turn out to be true. This is much easier and existentially lighter than actualizing what we think, and it enables us to speculate that our course of action would bring about “the best possible future” without actually taking any risk to find out if this were true or not. Speculating and “hole hoping” (to allude to “(W)hole Hope” by O.G. Rose), we can imagine that what we think will save the world, and hence imagine that we are a savior — a good guy — not an accidental monster.
No one likes to put themselves on trial. And why suffer actualization when we could live happily and heroically in speculation? Is it not better to be like the investor who maintains (perpetual) debt in order to speculate off of it? It is irrational to put ourselves on stage, unless that is we know completely for sure that actualization will “unveil” us to be right. But the nature of “flip moments” is such that no one can have that total certainty, and hence everyone must exist in a state where actualizing a “flip moment” is, in a way, irrational, at least in regard to a person’s self-image. As long as the person can maintain his or her current state of being, status, and happiness without acting, it seems always best to avoid actualization. The risk is too great; the payout, likely no better than what is lived before the risk. And yet it is still true that sometimes, to solve the crises of the world, we have to irrationally face a risky “flip moment” that “unveils” that our choice was “always” the right or wrong thing to do.
In conclusion, the main goals of this paper have been to argue for the existence of “flip moments” and to enable us to be more capable of discussing and disagreeing with one another, aware that our disagreements are often based around a belief of what will occur during a “flip moment.” Understanding “flip moments,” I hope, will make us more objective thinkers, and taking them into account will hopefully help us construct more accurate worldviews and better equip us to understand why people disagree. Grasping that all (logically) consistent arguments “work” before but not necessarily after a “flip moment” will help us understand why we disagree with others and why a person who “proves” a case can still be proven ultimately wrong.
We need to develop thinking that isn’t bound and restricted by “flip moments” but more potential-based. We need thinking that can move back and forth between the multiple directions history can take after a “flip moment”; we need to be able to move between different ways in which the world can be “re-seen” in light of what occurs. We need to be able to see all sides and courses of a “flip moment,” to think through a version of history in which a “flip moment” unveils Keynesian to be true and a version in which Austrian thought is unveiled to be true, and to dialectically move between the two histories as we consider which “trade-off” is best.
We need to develop dynamic thinking; we need to become comfortable with potentiality and overcome “reality prejudice.” The world isn’t “necessarily” or “always” the way it is, only feels such: the world is realized “out of” potentiality. Failure to learn to think in terms of potentials has taken from us the capacity to understand “the ground” out of which life sprouts. Consequently, our flowers of thought are without soil; they lack ground to support them.
¹How can “the curtain” be kept down forever? By keeping debts from being called in. Is that possible? Perhaps — perhaps by setting up the debt so that it cannot be called in without significant financial damage to those who collect the debt? Even if that cost is there, can it be truly assured that debt will never be called in — that the moment will never arise in which a computer somewhere calculates that the damage done by calling in the debt is less than the damage done by not calling it in? The larger the debt is, the more unlikely it would be that this moment would ever happen: if the debt was so large that everyone was in the debt, no one would pop it: it would cancel itself out. As in the Cold War, the more nukes a country had, the more “deterred” other nations were at attacking that country, so the larger debt is, the more nations are “deterred” from calling debt in. In a sense, perhaps the Cold War never ended, just shifted from being about nukes to being about debt.
1.1Imagine a game of musical chairs, and imagine that there are three people playing, and yet no chairs left. At this point, if the music were to stop, everyone would lose. But imagine that the music went on forever. Then, no one would lose, even though it would no longer be possible for anyone to win.
To increase debt is to keep the music going, and if debt is too large to call in, the music will never stop.
²Since it is always “rational” to keep the curtain down and avoid the “flip moment,” Keynesianism seems always more rational than Austrian economics and has a major advantage. In Keynesianism spending and driving up debt, it can “push off” a “flip moment” (as long as possible), while Austrian economics necessarily causes the “flip moment,” likely rendering it irrational, and hence that which the market will not favor.
³However, “flip moments” don’t necessarily lead people to switch between ideologies, just to take up one to start, and considering “the map is indestructible” (from “The Trust Isn’t the Rational” by O.G. Rose), they can then stay in that camp once they enter it.
1. It cannot be said for sure that an economy is strong and/or “has recovered” until it passes the test of higher interest rates, only that it may be strong and/or that it may have recovered. Additionally, at least until interest rates rise, Keynesianism is true, and if they never do, Keynesianism is “practically” true.
2. Imagine that you have invested a billion dollars in a company and imagine that in one week your loan behind the billion dollars will be called in. Before that defining moment, you can speculate that your company is worth three billion dollars and that you will be able to finance your debts (you don’t know about the deadline a week away). Let us imagine that you are the Federal Reserve and that the billion dollar investment was a Keynesian “stimulus package” to save an industry from collapsing, and let us imagine that the loan is owed to China. If since the stimulus the economy has recovered 10%, you have reason to believe that the economy has recovered, and if you can finance the debt, indeed, you would be correct (as you would be correct to think the stimulus was a good idea). And until the debt is called in, you can speculate that you will be able to pay back the loan; after all, the economy has grown 3%, increasing revenue. Perhaps had you not stimulated the economy, you would have less, and even though your debts would have been smaller, you would have been unable to finance them: better to have a higher debt and ability to finance it than a lower debt we cannot pay up. And perhaps this is true, but you cannot say for sure until the “flip moment” — until the time when you (must) (begin to) cover costs.
On the other hand, the Austrian may argue that, of course, the economy has grown 3% thanks to the stimulus: if stimulus didn’t work at all, no one would ever try it. However, the amount spent to cause that 3% stimulation is significantly larger than the wealth that was created: the money spent isn’t redeemed by the money earned. As a result, when the debts are called in, all present growth will turn out to be an “illusion”: suddenly and all at once, it will be as if the economy didn’t grow at all. Yes, the Keynesian is right to argue that Federal Reserve spending can stimulate an economy into recovering, but the Austrian may point out that the way the Federal Reserve stimulates tends to “create money” more so than “create wealth,” and furthermore that it disrupts the price mechanism system and effective distribution of resources (as discussed by Hayek). Whether this is true or not is a different question, but the Austrian is right to argue that growth caused in “the space” between taking out a loan and paying back the loan can be negated instantly if the loan cannot be paid back. But we cannot know for sure what will be the case until “the flip moment” — until it is time to finance the debts — which is when the Austrian would say it is too late: the country is doomed. But that is precisely the moment that may legitimize and verify the Keynesian strategy. To find out who is correct, much risk must be taken, and considering this, it seems best to me to avoid a situation in which “everything must be risked,” which would be more Austrian than Keynesian, seeing as I think Keynesian spending can lead to “too big to fail” situations, which can then require further spending ad infinitum. But what if we’re already in the midst of that “ad infinitum,” per se? Good question.
Debt is potential: when a country goes into debt, that debt, if an investment, will create wealth, but if merely spending, the debt will only create money. Debt may either grow an economy or simply “keep an economy going,” and considering that debt must be paid back, growth is necessary for debt to be beneficial. Until a “flip moment,” it can be speculated that a country’s debt is an investment versus spending, and hence that the debt is actually a good thing. Those who make this “Pro-Growth” argument will have the same justification to do so as will those who are “Pro-Savings,” those who argue that the debt only finances “spending” and will lead to great trouble down the road. To the Pro-Growth economist, perhaps the vitality of Wall Street is evidence that “the debt is investment,” while to the Pro-Savings economist, the growth of Wall Street only may indicate a recovering economy (though that cannot be said for sure until it is confirmed that “debt is investment” by it being paid back, and the higher the debt is, the more unlikely it is that such is the case). The Austrian economist may also argue that the more debt is infused into the economy, the more uncertainty, and hence the higher likelihood of a “black swam” (such as what happened in 2008) — another “flip moment” that can suddenly define past growth as “always” speculative and unfounded.
But does the Austrian know for sure that a “black swan” will occur? Until it does, its potentiality is equal with the potential of a world in which the “black swan” doesn’t occur. And should we restrain from stimulating a failing economy in fear of a mere “possibility?” Shouldn’t we make decisions based on what is real and actually happening, not some vague hypothetical? All this is what makes economic-thinking so difficult: until the “flip moment,” both Keynesian and Austrian thought are true, as if held together in a kind of quantum-potential state. And when the “flip moment” occurs, it’s suddenly as if this “potential state” never existed, that one school of thought was “always” right and the other “always” wrong. Now, please don’t mistake me as saying all truth is relative or that there is no such thing as truth. Rather, my point is to say that either theory could be “consistently” and “rationally” argued for “as if” true, even though the theories contradict one another, for the “justification” of the theories is a “flip moment” that lies in the future. The Keynesian can then justly think the Austrian is a fool, as the Austrian could justly think the same of the Keynesian.
To summarize: the disagreement between the Keynesian and the Austrian is ultimately over a “flip moment,” before which both Austrian and Keynesian thought is equally consistent. If there is Keynesian stimulus and debts are financed, Keynesianism is justified; if debts aren’t financed, Austrian thought is legitimized. Do note that the legitimization of both schools of thought is based upon what occurs in the same moment — the moment in which one course of spacetime is taken over the other. And do note that when that course is taken, it will suddenly seem as if the Keynesian or Austrian was “always” right, when this isn’t the case: relative to before the “flip moment,” the rationality of both ideologies was consistent. Thinking an ideology is “always” right versus contingent upon a “flip moment” leads to certainty (against opponents, on certain courses of action, etc.) in a world that is all too certain, all too often.
3. A “flip moment” is a “sensualization” (that often legitimizes a position and/or theory), and the present wears an “always.”
4. To allude to “Experiencing Thinking” by O.G. Rose, understanding “flip moments” is to understand a matter of “high order complexity,” which us “low order” humans are naturally terrible at grasping. Considering this, if a society cannot follow “dynamic arguments” (such as those presented in this work), even if the society is willing to follow them (“willing” and “capable” aren’t similes), the society can deny “high order complexity” and “dynamic arguments” without being intellectually dishonest, and furthermore have grounds to deny them, seeing as they don’t have “evidence” in their favor (as do matters of “low order complexity”). Potentiality is never fully empirical. Consequently, it is possible to call “high order complexity” a myth while “low order complexity” cannot be so labeled, which naturally leads to a “certain” orientation for “low order complexity” at the expense of “high order.”
5. To be proven right, we can be overly eager for “flip moments”: we can be overly eager to risk collapse.
6. But how do we know what constitutes a “flip moment”? How do we know that “calling in debt” is such a defining moment, or that raising interest rates will end the debate between the Austrian and Keynesian? That is a great question and there is certainly room for debate: not everyone will necessarily agree on what event is in fact a “flip moment.” However, my point in this paper is simply to argue for their existence at all, to point out how arguments and views formulate in “the space before” them, and how in that space, ideologies can be equally defended without intellectual dishonesty.
7. There is a sense in which we are enslaved to “flip moments,” stuck in time.
8. As we never experience the consciousness behind an “(in)animate object” or the metaphysical dimension behind that which is “sensualized” (to allude to “On Consciousness, Creativity, and Being” and “Sensualization,” both by O.G. Rose), we never experience the potential behind reality. At best, we can only know about it.
9. Studying history might be the best way to guess the direction a “flip moment” will go when it occurs, but that assumes an accurate understanding of history (which isn’t guaranteed).
10. Our hunger for “flip moments” — to be proven as right (or wrong) — perhaps contributes to our tendency to appeal to the Supreme Court versus Federalism, as discussed in “The War Between Process and Justice” by O.G. Rose.
11. Considering “The True Isn’t the Rational” by O.G. Rose, since “the map is indestructible,” belief in what will occur at a “flip moment” can stand to all criticism until that “flip moment” occurs (given that the “flip moment” doesn’t leave open room for varying interpretation), which is when it might be “too late.”