Pi’s Believe It or Not

A thought pops into someone’s head. What happens next? The thought is filtered through a series of checkpoints; it travels throughout the brain as if following the path of a flow chart. A symphony of bells, whistles, and horns serves as the score for the Rube Goldberg machine known as the brain. In the end, all of the idle thought experiments have disappeared and all that remains are the thoughts that the brain has determined true. This is how I imagine someone deciphers fiction from reality. Within the category of true thoughts, I also like to imagine that there would be a bucket labeled with a thematically important phrase used in Yan Martel’s Life of Pi: “dry, yeastless factuality” (302). In this bucket, there would only be inadmissible truths that have no depth to them whatsoever because “dry, yeastless factuality” is factuality without yeast; factuality that does not rise or grow, factuality that has no greater purpose or meaning and leads to no greater conclusion. It is factuality that never reaches fruition. In Life of Pi, the inspectors ultimately deeming the fantastical story with the animals as “the better story” (317) over “dry, yeastless factuality,” demonstrates why people hold particular beliefs and how Pi can believe in the uncertain.

Although the inspectors claim to just want what Pi calls “dry, yeastless factuality,” that is not entirely true; they want more than that: they want to hear a story that satisfies their confirmation bias and purpose for asking. With this in mind, since the inspectors have never stumbled upon carnivorous trees, fish-eating algae that produces fresh water, or tree-dwelling aquatic rodents, they claim that “these things don’t exist” (294). To which Pi responds, “Only because you haven’t seen them.” The inspectors sum up the conversation and basis for which they determine what is true, saying, “That’s right, we believe what we see.” Their disbelief illustrates that one’s previous experience is critical in the differentiation between true and false; if something is not within what one believes is possible, it must be false. However, Pi rejects this reasoning for why the inspectors do not believe his story. He pleads his case: “You want words that reflect reality? ... Words that do not contradict reality? … You want a story that won’t surprise you. That will confirm what you already know. That won’t make you see further or differently” (302). Pi displays an understanding of confirmation bias, the idea that people are more likely to believe what they already believe to be true. He claims the inspectors are preventing themselves from finding any greater meaning by succumbing to their confirmation bias and refusing to even entertain any other stories. Only by addressing challenging claims can one truly see the full picture and gain a greater perspective. Even so, their reasoning is well placed considering the circumstances. The main reason the inspectors refuse to entertain any other story is because they are burdened by the responsibility of their jobs. Thus, the inspectors serve as an example that proves that what people believe is affected by circumstances. In this situation, the inspectors’ jobs conditioned them to probe for a fact-based truth. In fact, the inspectors themselves describe their reason for interrogation in this statement: “We are here because of a sinking cargo ship … We are only trying to determine why and how the Tsimtsum sank” (298). Demonstrating the same idea, and even more explicitly, one inspector says, “But for the purposes of our investigation, we would like to know what really happened” (302). Under the responsibility of their jobs, the two inspectors are unquestionably biased by the story they want to hear, or think they want to hear. Thus, their perception is tainted by responsibility. Case in point, it is only once Pi removes the inspectors from their jobs, – “So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can’t prove the question either way, which story do you prefer?” (317) – that they come to a greater realization. Hence, “the better story” is not necessarily the one that is perceived as factually correct.

Furthermore, two contradictory stories can be true at the same time because perception is a matter of interpretation; the simultaneous validity of the stories with and without the animals serves as an illustration of this. In particular, it is because of their responsibility that the inspectors are inclined to perceive the story without the animals as the truth. This is because the story without the animals is helpful in serving their intended purpose of gathering evidence for their investigation. Only after the inspectors remove themselves from their jobs, do they realize that the story with the animals is generally more gratifying. Pi however, perceives the events as the story with the animals because it aligns with his previous experience and notoriously imaginative mind and does a better job of satisfying his purpose of coping with such a traumatic ordeal. By the same token, Pi clearly knows what actually happened, but he still chooses to believe in what he thinks is “the better story,” the story with the animals. Moreover, the fact that these two versions of the same story can simultaneously be considered acceptable perceptions has implications for the nature of perception: specifically, how we distinguish fiction from reality. Pi, having experienced both versions, has granted himself the choice to recall the tragic events in two different ways. Thus, he proves that what someone believes has implications for how someone lives their life and vice versa because perception is a matter of opinion, experience, and choice. Likewise, one’s overall life experience is shaped by their perception or how they interpret the events that happen to them. In fact, deciding which is “the better story” is not so much about distinguishing fantasy from reality, as it is perceiving stories in a way that enhances one’s experience, which is exemplified in this conversation between Pi and the inspectors: 

“So you want another story?”

“Uhh…no. We would like to know what really happened.”

“Doesn’t the telling of something always become a story?”

“Uhh…perhaps in English. In Japanese, a story would have an element of invention. We want ‘straight facts’ as you say in English.”

“Isn’t telling about something – using words, English or Japanese – already something of an invention? Isn’t just looking upon this world already something of an invention?

“Uhh…”

“The world isn’t just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding something, we bring something to it, no? Doesn’t that make life a story?” (302)

Here, Pi argues that it is impossible to completely eliminate personal opinion from a story because the telling of story is inevitability going to be influenced by who tells it. Thus, since there is no real way to distinguish fact from fiction, the best thing someone can do is interpret a story in the way that best serves them. A controversial story that Pi perceives to be true is religion. 

For Pi, religion, which is not necessarily true, is “the better story” because it provides him with extra fulfillment in life. Nonetheless, Pi recognizes that religion requires an element of imagination. In order to truly believe in religion, one must seek to find truth in the unknown, which is difficult for many to do. Pi asks for people to take a trusting reach – a literal ‘leap of faith’ – towards something that is grounded in belief rather than truth. As a matter of fact, the phrase “the better story” appears in only one other instance before Pi converses with the inspectors, when he is talking about religion. The appearance of this phrase is followed by a list of words that describes in detail his relationship with religion. He writes that religion brings him “joy” which he defines as “a quickening of the moral sense, which strikes one as more than an intellectual understanding of things; an alignment of the universe along moral lines, not intellectual ones; a realization that the founding principle of existence is what we call love, which works itself out sometimes not clearly, not cleanly, not immediately, nonetheless ineluctably” (63). He continues, next explaining that he finds “a trusting sense of presence and of ultimate purpose” in his practice of religion. Therefore, his rationale for religion indeed seems gratifying and well-placed. In addition to overwhelming joy, Pi experiences a greater fulfillment in life from his practice of religion, something he claims that those who seek justification through rationality are missing out on. His exact words are: “if he [the agnostic] stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, he might try to explain the warm light bathing him by saying, ‘Possibly a f-f-filing oxygenation of the b-b-brain,’ and to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story” (64). In a somewhat extreme and humorous way, Pi pokes fun at how being too rational can prevent someone from reaching a greater understanding. Pi uses a different approach, however, to express the same idea to the inspectors. He explains, “But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater” (298). In this example, he uses a metaphor to articulate that he thinks it is most unreasonable to sacrifice greater fulfillment in favor of remaining completely logical. To prove his point further, he tries to draw on ideas the inspectors might be able to relate to with this objection: “If you stumble at mere believability, what are you living for? Isn’t love hard to believe? … Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe?” (297). By giving these astute examples, Pi makes a very convincing case for why believing in notional concepts such as religion is in fact rational in its own way.

As Pi and his interactions with the inspectors demonstrate, the nature of truth-based perception is far more complicated than it seems because perception is a matter of interpretation. Thus, perception varies from person to person. So, when operating our own thought-filtering machines, we should pay attention to the basis by which we are doing so. We should not let the natural human tendency to seek out confirmation bias and the responsibilities we carry ruin our experience. And furthermore, when the opportunity presents itself we cannot be afraid to make the jump from “dry, yeastless factuality” into the unknown; we would not want being overly rational to hinder our search for greater fulfillment and “the better story.” Obviously, this jump takes courage, but if we take Pi’s word for it, it is well worth it. These are the lessons and takeaways I gathered from the events in Life of Pi. By illustrating Pi’s thought processes, author Yan Martel presents an interesting take on the nature of perception and allows the reader to form their own opinion which illustrates his idea in itself. He once posed the question: “That’s what fiction is about, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?” Indeed, I do believe that to be true, but do not just take my word for it. Interpret it for yourself and find your version of “the better story.”