4/ A First Essential Rule of the Method of Axiology

The first fundamental rule of axiology thus emerges: at the beginning of an axiological investigation, we must apply a method that may go against all our instincts, including our moral sense. This method requires placing all axiological judgements on an equal footing, regardless of their content, with a commitment to neutrality, and avoiding the dismissal of any value position from the outset, even those that seem most absurd or shocking.
We must 'give a chance' to axiological positions that are often overlooked, such as evil or nihilism.

A considerable number of works on morality attempt to establish moral principles without first addressing, or even listening to, the fundamental content of theories that challenge morality—such as nihilism, immoralism, or amoralism. Yet, it is precisely these theories that we need to refute and we cannot overcome what we do not truly understand.

As a result, any attempt to refute evil risks missing its target, because we do not fully understand what this axiological position truly entails. This has been the case with the ethics of duty and the ethics of happiness. These approaches may have succeeded in discrediting certain forms of evil (for instance, the individual who claims their wrongdoing is a duty in the former, or the egoist in the latter), but they seem to remain silent when faced with other forms of evil. The most genuine of these is radical evil—the position that asserts evil has value, or even greater value than good.

To 'give a chance' to extreme axiological positions, we must genuinely admit the possibility that, by the end of its investigation, axiology may conclude that one of these positions is the true answer to the question of what has value and what does not. We must acknowledge that our inquiry could ultimately lead to the conclusion that nothing has value or that evil holds more value than good.

This possibility should provoke a sense of anguish, as the conclusions axiology might reach are uncertain and could fundamentally challenge our value judgements, existential choices, and even the collective norms upheld by society.
If, for example, we concluded that nothing has value, what would we do? Would we reject such a discovery, or would we accept it? And if we did, how would it shape our behaviour? Should we—or even could we—live as nihilists?
Therefore, axiological research cannot proceed in calm serenity but must unfold in a state of anxiety and discomfort, as it opens up the potential for arriving at tragic conclusions that we may find unbearable.

Thus, we can now give a final description of the axiologist's state of mind. First, we observed that they must suspend all value judgements, meaning they neither like nor dislike anything. This seemed to bring a kind of serenity to the soul, akin to Stoic ataraxia or even the sceptical epoché, which ultimately leads to the happiness of the wise.
However, we now see that this is not the case. Axiological epoché manifests as profound anguish because, unlike the sceptical or Stoic epoché, its aim is not to achieve happiness or answer the question 'How can I be happy?' but rather 'What has value?'—a question that could potentially eliminate any possibility of happiness for humanity.

The axiologist is, therefore, far from indifferent in their investigation, as they are addressing perhaps the most important questions. However, for methodological reasons, they must adopt a stance of neutrality—displaying indifference towards each axiological position. As an axiologist, they must contradict their own deeply held feelings, though throughout the investigation, they remain fully human. This contradiction makes the axiologist’s state of mind one of an essentially anguished suspension of all value judgements.

Finally, we must not dismiss axiological positions that seem absurd to us, such as 'The first ten digits have value', 'Pain has value', or 'What is under my brother's piano has value.'
If we were to proceed in this way, we would fail to grasp the radical nature of the epoché that axiology demands, as it insists on genuinely 'giving a chance' to any axiological position before claiming the right to reject it. Furthermore, it is often under the guise of absurdity that legitimate axiological positions—such as those asserting that evil, pain, sadness, nothingness, or even laughter hold value—are dismissed. This criterion of 'absurdity' is thus fundamentally flawed, as each person tends to label as absurd any axiological judgement that diverges too far from their own value judgements.

This requirement for neutrality reveals the true nature of the axiological project.
For example, if we were to state that the goal of axiology is to discover the value of things, we would implicitly suggest that only tangible objects can hold value, thereby excluding actions or immaterial entities, such as metaphysical beings, from the outset without justification. In essence, the formulation of the question itself would betray it, embedding presuppositions into its structure.
Similarly, if we claimed that axiology’s aim is to uncover the value of concepts, we would dogmatically exclude everything outside of conceptual entities—like objects, actions, or metaphysical beings.
Finally, if we were to say that axiology seeks the value of beings, we would be dismissing, from the start, anything that does not exist in reality but remains within the realm of imagination, like unicorns, or even that which is simply possible or impossible.

Instead, we require a formulation that does not betray the question it aims to express and does not pre-emptively exclude anything from potentially possessing value. To achieve this, we need a term broader than 'thing,' 'concept,' 'action,' or 'being.' We will use 'content of meaning,' a term that allows for the open-ended question of whether this meaning is embodied in a thing or idea, whether it exists in this reality or another, and whether it is possible or impossible. This term avoids making any assumptions about the ontological reality of what conveys this content of meaning.

Thus, to avoid prematurely ruling out any axiological position and to respect the necessary epoché of value judgements, we can state that the aim of axiology is to determine, for any content of meaning=X, whether it possesses value or not.
Simply put: the purpose of axiology is to assess the value of any given content of meaning=X.