Written by: Shubhangi Ashish
You must have heard of the "glass half-empty or half-full test." Psychologists use simple tests like this to determine whether a person tends to be an optimist or a pessimist. Optimists will usually say the glass is half-full, whereas pessimists will usually point out that it's half-empty. Optimists tend to focus on the good: there is still water available to drink. Pessimists, on the other hand, see the negative: there is water missing from what otherwise could be a full glass.
Dumb question, I know, but the dumber the question, the smarter the answers. This article is a simple critique of this test and a lot of other things.
Humans perceive most of reality in terms of dichotomy: masculine-feminine, yin-yang, purush-prakriti, and now, full or empty. Existence comes with very defined labels and solid boundaries: what one can be and why not the opposite.
With time, we graduated to spectrums, gradients, fluid identities, and anti-definitions. But pop psychology is still stuck in its boxed-up ways, in this case asking you to slot yourself into the sunshine-laced smile of the optimist or the brooding corner of the pessimist. The problem isn't that the test wants to classify—it’s that it classifies poorly
2. Anekantavada and Superposition
Anekāntavāda is Jainism’s metaphysical gift to the world: a doctrine that says reality is complex, irreducible, and cannot be fully grasped by a single perspective. The glass is half-full and half-empty and neither and both, depending on the naya—your standpoint.
Syādvāda then follows conditional predication. Maybe the glass is half-empty from one angle, half-full from another. Nayavāda? Partial viewpoints.
In quantum physics, particles exist in superposition—multiple states at once until observed. Borrow that for philosophy, and you get a cognitive superposition: truth existing in overlapping, unresolved narratives.
The beauty of Anekāntavāda? It doesn’t seek comfort in finality. It resists closures. No full stops, only semicolons. It isn’t about closure, but complexity. And in that complexity, there is honesty.
3. Truth Without Context, the Problem of Metaphysics, and "Nothing Is True"
Let’s be blunt: you can’t know the truth. Not because you’re not smart enough, but because no one is. Because the context is infinite, and our lifespans are not. Because truth without context is like a punchline without a setup—it falls flat. There is no intellectual shortcut to truth; the actual truth.
Science isn’t true; it’s useful. It changes. Astrology isn’t true either—but it’s also useful, sometimes. Your name isn’t the truth of who you are. Even the glass isn’t just glass. It’s a temporary arrangement of atoms in space, meaningful only because we decided so (as Sartre would say).
If the glass started empty and got filled halfway, it’s half-full. If it started full and lost water, it’s half-empty. If you don’t know what came before, it’s both. Or neither. Context collapses meaning into precision. Without it, your judgment is guesswork, cosplaying as insight.
Metaphysics tried to get to the essence of being, but got lost in language loops. Martin Heidegger said that Being reveals itself only through our situated experience. We cannot step outside our historicity, language, and culture to access pure, context-free truth. Similarly, Michel Foucault showed how knowledge and truth are always intertwined with power relations and discursive formations, challenging the idea of neutral, objective truth. And, Ludwig Wittgenstein famously emphasized the role of language-games and forms of life in determining meaning. A statement’s truth value depends on the language and context in which it is expressed. Truth claims are not isolated propositions floating free; they are embedded in particular life contexts, cultural norms, and linguistic practices.
4. Experience, Conditioning, and Plato’s Cave
We already know how we perceive the world is largely the product of our lives or heard. We are all conditioned for certain behaviors, biased in our thinking and are expected to follow certain norms at all times for the greater good of society. What we think is not what we actually think, but mostly a mosaic of everything we have interacted with so far. Kudos to all the independent thinkers, and keeping bandwagon thinkers aside, our thinking is conditioned and hence predictable.
Think you’re original? Cute.
Someone raised on full glasses will see lack. Someone raised on empty glasses will see potential. The object doesn’t change, but its meaning does. This is Plato’s Allegory of Cave all over again.
5. Distribution of Resources: Who Gets the Water?
Now let's upgrade the metaphor. It’s not about what you see in the glass—it’s about who owns the glass, who poured the water, and who gets to drink it.
In a world where resources are finite and systems are rigged, optimism is a privilege. You think the poor are pessimistic because they saw a glass as half-empty? No, they just never had a glass. Or worse, they made the glass, filled it, and handed it over to someone else.
Not everyone has the luxury to debate metaphors. Some are just thirsty.
So, will the well-hydrated person get the half-full glass, or the one dying of thirst? Or will the water be dirtied so nobody gets to drink it? Or will somebody discover a whole new freshwater ocean?
And here's the kicker: most of life operates in superpositions. People, situations, and decisions —they're rarely one thing. They're potentially many things, shaped by what we know, when we know it, and how we choose to interpret it. Everyone wants you to pick a truth; be a rebel, and choose nothing (and that’s what I want you to do, so if you do that, you’ll be under my instructions, and if you don’t, then someone else’s—it’s a paradox!). Truth is a political weapon.
With so many problems with subjectivity, nothing can ever be known.
Let go. Not of curiosity, not of critical thought, but of the illusion that you’ll ever arrive at “the truth.”
Truth is not a destination; it is a journey we have willingly or unwillingly embarked on, and there is going to be no fixed destination to this. Tear up the map. Burn the compass. Float and enjoy while it lasts.
Tear up the map. Burn the compass. Float.
You are not an optimist or a pessimist. You are the glass. You are the water. You are the one asking the question. You are half-empty and half-full.
(PS: All philosophers quoted or referenced are filtered through the sieve of my own understanding. But I’m just an undergrad. Not as shedding my responsibility of trying to research and write actual facts, but more as an acknowledgement that there is always room to learn and there are better trusted sources of knowledge. Not as a disclaimer, but as an invitation—go read them yourself. Form your own conclusions. Be your own contradiction. Don’t believe everything you see online. Also, in no way am I claiming that I am not a trusted source; I am, I just don’t know how much.)
