In summary, the axiological researcher must fully understand the scandal of the problem of values—specifically, the lack of foundation for values and the impossibility of dismissing extreme axiological positions. Furthermore, rather than responding to this scandal with the usual indignation, the researcher should suspend all value judgements and adopt a stance of axiological epoché.
Why is this necessary? There are three reasons.
Firstly, this state of mind logically follows from our acknowledged ignorance, assuming we are honest with ourselves. If we knew why nihilism was a mistaken axiological stance—if we knew how to establish a foundation for values—we could reject nihilism, and even feel indignant about it, because we would understand the basis for that rejection. But our ignorance renders such rejection impossible, thus leading us to suspend our axiological judgements.
Secondly, without this state of mind, a person may only feel irritation toward the pursuit of determining values or toward the project of axiology itself. Such a person adheres fully to their value judgements, so to speak, becoming entangled in them. Living with full confidence in the goals they have set, they are untouched by any uncertainty that could disrupt the core of their life; they feel no doubt and have never questioned their assumptions. Attempting to explain the project of axiology to such a person is futile. They cannot bear to see the value of what they cherish questioned and will reject any conclusions that do not reinforce their beliefs.
We can propose a simple test to determine whether someone may be interested in the axiological project: can he tolerate being told that what he loves has no value? Or again: is he likely to change his tastes if it is shown that his current taste is bad taste? Or will he reject any demonstration in order to keep his (supposed) love intact?
He will then be like a stone to us, meaning none of our proposals will reach him; we will no longer share the same ground, and no connection will remain. He is deaf to us; he is therefore invincible to our attacks; but at the same time, he does not speak to us. Thus, he can be no more of a threat to us than a stone by the side of the road.
Finally, because it is likely impossible to establish values without, at least once during our investigation, giving a chance to the axiological doctrines we aim to refute. We need to be neutral if we are to be able to determine impartially what has value and what does not. To be neutral, however, we must at some point in our thinking consider all possible value judgements with equal respect as genuine axiological positions worthy of the name; if we dismiss with a shrug what seems to us absurd and scandalous, we lose any chance of grasping the depth of the problem of values, and hence of solving it.
Thus, two types of character will likely remain forever unmoved by the project of axiology: first, those who fail to recognise the scandal of the lack of foundation for values, such as intuitionists, who claim that we naturally and immediately know what holds value (which, as if by coincidence, aligns with the traditional triad of the beautiful, the true, and the good); and second, those who, having understood this scandalous lack of foundation, seek refuge in the empty feeling of indignation, mistakenly thinking it provides an answer to the axiological problem—a solution which is, of course, impossible.
The meaning of this suspension of judgement may be difficult to grasp. Perhaps it will become clearer if we use as a model the Cartesian epoché, which, in its radical nature, seems to resemble the axiological epoché we are proposing. However, is Cartesian doubt truly radical? Does it genuinely serve as a model for those who wish to free themselves of all value judgements? Let us examine Descartes’ approach to find out.