It’s many years since I last fully engaged in discussion with convicted creationists. A pair of elderly Jehovah’s Witnesses detained me on the doorstep, at least at first. I’d just read The Blind Watchmaker and I was keen to exercise my new powers. So instead of the usual excuses I told them I was a Darwinist and that I didn’t believe in God. Sure enough, the old chestnuts rolled out: How could something as perfect as the human eye have come about incrementally? How could blind chance have given rise to the beauty and fecundity of the natural world? All the arguments that had tripped me in the past, only this time I had the answers.
So it was that one of the callers decided to end the discussion, but the way she did so was exasperating. She said, “Well, you have your way of looking at the world and we have ours”. While this was perfectly correct, it still left the most important question unanswered: What about the truth of the situation? That surely isn’t a matter of opinion, it’s something external to belief. Either God made us or he didn’t. Either the universe is twelve billion years old, or it isn’t. There might be plural ways to perceive reality but only one state of reality.
Compared to our nineteenth-century predecessors, today’s Britons are a sceptical bunch, not least when it comes to accounts that claim to be the absolute truth. This is good in some ways as a defence against despots, and also because some things really only should be judged in relative terms. But on the other hand, in many more cases it really doesn’t apply, and doesn’t deserve to be applied. Sometimes knowledge can approach certainty and only one account should be taken seriously.
Our loss of faith in ‘the truth’ is much a product of our widespread loss of religious faith. Loss of biblical truth, eternal absolute truth that one simply didn’t question, has been a loss of anchor. We bob about on a sea of competing faiths and other earthly ideologies, each, purportedly, as valid as any other. Today, anyone who insists that their particular faith is the one true faith is likely to be called fundamentalist, or just plain bigoted.
Similarly, the parallel growth of secular art and entertainment has encouraged a relativist standpoint. As one earthly being to another, you can argue Beethoven is better than Bach until you’re blue in the face, but you’ll never prove it. When you remove the issue of ‘which artist best serves God’ from the equation only personal taste is left. Best becomes subjective. My best is the one I like the most, and the same goes for you. Nothing else to add.
Finally, such thinking became vogue in late twentieth century western academia. For various reasons the status of ‘the fact’ came to be a bigger issue than facts themselves. A good part of this was again the collapse in religious faith, and public exposure to a diverse range of cultures and beliefs. And certainly the political climate played a part. By the end of the twentieth century, rationalism, as exhibited in ‘rationally planned’ society was looking decidedly unattractive and unworkable. ‘Rationalism’, in this sense, had led to the horrors of Fascism and Stalinism. Now it could be seen as the hand behind the faltering Keynesian consensus. Without a great deal of consideration as to what it might actually entail, a lot of thinkers were excited by the idea of finding better ‘sorts of truth’ in other belief systems.
Philosophical support for all this was found in the field of semiotics. Much was made of the different ways in which different cultures slice up and label the world, supposedly. We heard how the Welsh have a word for a colour which to an English speaker appears to cover both pale blue and pale green, and of course how Eskimos can distinguish 1001 kinds of snow. We extrapolated wildly from that point on: If culture alone could produce such wildly different conscious perspectives who was to say western thought was the ‘right’ one? Were science and rationality just more narratives, no better or worse than shamanism, just different?
Odder still, another key influence was twentieth century physics. Logically enough, the relativity uncovered by Einstein got people thinking about relative perspectives, and seemed to put subjectivity at the heart of the cosmos, but that was just the start. Much more was made of the history of physics, chiefly the so-called paradigm shifts, the movements from one scientific consensus to another. Arguments ran something like: Newton’s universe worked a treat for two centuries. It underpinned the industrial revolution and ushered in the modern world. Nevertheless, it was overthrown in the twentieth century, and replaced by Einstein’s radically different model.
What did that mean for the status of truth? If Einstein actually replaced Newton then in what sense was Newton’s theory ever true? And of course the same goes for Einstein. Is he just another poor Newton in waiting? Will he be replaced one day by a wholly incompatible new physics? Is that all science is, one of a multitude of competing stories about the world? Each internally consistent, but none any closer to reality than any other.
This was emphasised using the witchcraft argument: Not all of human thinking has been as intellectually scrupulous as Newton’s and Einstein’s. Complete nonsense has been passionately believed in. Presumably it seemed rational to it’s believers, or else they wouldn’t have believed it. Clearly witches never really existed. Nevertheless intelligent men and women devised detection tests, and meted out horrors on those unfortunate enough to pass them. Although the witch-finders themselves wouldn’t have used the term, they probably thought that they were acting rationally. Perhaps they sincerely believed what they were doing was the only logical means of avoiding damnation, it’s just that neither damnation nor witches exist.
What does all this say about the status of science? Bluntly, if we’ve believed so much rubbish in the past, what makes us think today’s ‘science’ and ‘rationalism’ will look any better in the future?
The limits of relativism
Although frequently overstated, relativist thinking does have its place. Certainly, it seems an appropriate way for atheists to view religions. If you don’t believe in any god, then all gods possess equal credibility. All religions become earthly, cultural constructs, peculiar to those who follow them. Rather than judging them as right or wrong, you can only judge their effects.
As for the arts, it’s more of a mixed bag. While it’s true that no one can ultimately define rules of taste, there are a mass of other reasons to call some things good and others bad. Even if you can’t prove one piece of music to be more pleasant than another you can argue complexity of composition, tightness of rhythm, tonality. You can judge a piece to be groundbreaking or derivative, polished or just thrown together to make money. These characteristics certainly don’t merit the relativist take. They’re things one can argue firmly, one way or the other.
However it’s the academic usage where the real problems start.
In intellectual circles relativism held appeal for both left and right. The right liked it because it could be used to discredit Marxism, and centrally planned society in general. Relativist arguments were used to re-frame the ‘science’ of historical materialism as just another salvation myth, another grand prophecy of the coming Jerusalem, with as much basis in fact as the previous one.
For the left, on the other hand, the appeal was more philanthropic. Cultural relativism seemed a good counter to the western superiority complex: If all worldviews were just cultural inventions than who’s to say which one is right? How dare the west impose its cultural standards upon others?
The ‘hundred kinds of snow’ idea is a case in point. It seemed to give dignity to the down-trodden Inuit, and other hunter-gatherers. For one thing, it suggests that any average human mind, in any kind of society, crunches the same amount of concepts. Our fabulously complex brains divide-up and label the world to the same degree regardless of how complex those worlds are. If you’re raised in the west there’s lots of things to label, so you can’t afford to look too closely. But if there isn’t much about other than snow, fish and huskies, then your mind will ‘super-divide’ and categorise these few important items.
Problem was, it was a hoax. A quip in a newspaper that spread like wildfire, the number of snow-types rising exponentially with each telling. Like many successful memes it got itself spread for no better reason than people liked the sound of it (I certainly did.)
Still, this is no insult to the minds of Eskimos, or the Yanamamo. As it happens I’ll bet the average western mind does contain a mass more concepts than theirs, if theirs have never encountered radio or TV, books or magazines. No Sunsilk adverts or Nirvana CDs. This is nothing to do with race or intelligence, it’s just culture. If I’d been raised by Eskimos I’m sure I’d have turned out as sharp or blunt as I have in the west; and there, like here, being ‘savvy’ would be just as important determinant of whether I had a good life or not. It’s just that I wouldn’t have so many concepts to play with, or be plagued by. Although I’m glad about many of the memes I’ve accumulated, most of them are dross. My head rings with rubbish as I try to get to sleep. I’ll bet hunter-gatherers don’t have to put up with half that noise. Pity the Inuit?
Babies and bath-water
Aside from such well-meaning errors, relativist thinking has led to some very odd and intellectually regressive ideas. At worst it encourages us to discard the great potentiality, and accumulated discoveries of human thought. The wholesale dilution of ‘truth’ into ‘story’ undermines the human intellect, and it’s quite without justification. Here’s two points I believe relativism has clouded, which I’m yet to hear a worthwhile argument against.
First, just because some aspect of reality is disagreed upon, or is difficult to verify, doesn’t mean it isn’t one way or another. In an important sense, the state of reality is independent of thought.
This is a very everyday principle that we all take for granted, when we’re not philosophising about it. For example, I might claim to have seen an Andean condor circling above Brighton Pavilion. You on the other hand might feel sure it was a seagull. Perhaps a third person swears blind it was a pterodactyl. Well, regardless of our disagreement, one thing is certain. The thing that flew over the building definitely was one or none of the above. Opinion doesn’t come into that. The fact that several theories exist doesn’t effect the fact of what happened. In reality, it either was a seagull or it wasn’t. Even if no one was watching.
Similarly, Elaine Morgan’s fascinating ‘aquatic ape’ theory might just be true. On the other hand, it might be completely groundless. But this uncertainty doesn’t mean that arguments for it and against it are both true, in some relativist sense. History actually went one way or the other. Our recent ancestors either did have a spell in the water or they didn’t. Both stories can’t be right. Perhaps one day we’ll unearth something that’ll seal it either way, but if we don’t, that absence of certainty will have no bearing on the truth. The truth is what occurred.
Secondly, just because all knowledge is ‘just theory’ doesn’t mean all theories are equally valid. Some theories are better than others, they better approximate to external reality. They have better predictive power and fit in more neatly with the rest of our observations. In all likelihood I was wrong about the condor and you were right about the seagull. If it was already established that I was a bit of a fantasist, or I’d only glimpsed the creature peripherally, your account would be further strengthened. There’d be good reason to judge your theory better than mine. Then again, my theory would still be superior to that of the pterodactyl spotter. That’s a complete non-starter.
These are fantastically useful principles, and it’s criminal that they should be obscured, let alone rejected. Laughable really. We couldn’t operate without them, our lives would fall apart.
Why science?
Much of the disservice relativism has done to the reputation of knowledge seems to boil down to one very basic misunderstanding. In a sense, it really is the case that no theory can actually be the truth. At best it can only say something about the truth. No theory can be so accurate that it actually embodies the thing it describes, anymore than the word ‘dog’ can run around and bark. In that sense, at least, it is all just stories, science included.
Nevertheless, some stories bear examination. They’re not just consistent on their own terms, but in the face of whatever you throw at them. Of course we can never be completely sure, but it seems vanishingly unlikely than some scientific theories will ever be overturned, wholesale. The periodic table, thermodynamics, natural selection, their sheer predictive power is enough to accord them the status of fact. Even if greater, over arching, theories should ever be formulated, these existing one’s will continue to work within those frameworks, and remain as invaluable as they are today.
Not so in Salem. However learned the witch-hunters might have felt they were, they were still behaving in a stupid and ignorant manner, by any cultural standard. Far from trying to understand the world in methodical manner, they set out determined not to question. Those who dared were burned. Their tests were deeply tautological, by nature impossible to verify or falsify. The only ‘truth’ they could reference was scripture, and yet more unsinkable superstition. Rational thought certainly wasn’t available to lend support.
This is simply not so with science. True scientific method is all about verification. “Show me” is the motto. In science there’s never a right time to say “well look, it’s in the old book we used for years, so just accept it.” Science constantly sticks out its chin, and invites our best shot. And if you do prove it wrong it has to change. That’s why science isn’t ‘just another theory’. It’s the best explanation, by definition. It would cease to be science if it didn’t amend itself in the face of compelling evidence. There may be corrupt scientists but scientific method is pure honesty.
So, in the light of this, what is going on with physics? Did Newton really refute Einstein? In certain ways, yes. One clear example is the nature of time. Newton assumed time passes at the same rate wherever you are, whatever you do. But in Einstein’s universe such factors as velocity and gravity actually change the rate at which time passes.
While on the one hand this clearly is fundamental, on the other, so what? Once we’ve revised our notion of ‘knowledge as reality’ to “knowledge as most consistent story about reality” then we should expect contradictions to arise, as the body of knowledge swells. In the case of Newton you can hardly blame him for thinking time was the same everywhere. He didn’t have sensitive enough equipment to gauge the changes. Things have to travel at preposterous rates, or suffer huge gravitational attraction for anomalies to show up. Such machinery had to wait two centuries, until Newton’s own theories made them possible.
Although there are conditions under which Newton’s physics breaks down, in the world of medium sized objects and low speed, Newton is as sound as ever. If you want to build or fly a plane it’s all you need. Only if you want navigate a spacecraft, or chart the motion of a sub-atomic particle need you leave Newton’s world. In all but the most bizarre, human-created situations, Newton’s physics is the truth. It will continue to explain, and we will never see it contradicted. Perhaps that’s as good a truth as we can hope for.
Abusing the relative
Regardless, there is one sense in which science seems highly regrettable. The products of science are breaking the world, and taking us with it. Science and rationalism have given us the means of our complete undoing, be it greenhouse or the bomb. It’s a very depressing thought, one that makes me jealous of previous generations. But rejecting rationalism won’t make the bomb go away, and it’ll ensure the oil continues to be frittered. The only way to tackle this madness is using rationalism. As always, it pays to be as well equipped as your adversary.
Aside from such legitimate concerns, I fear there are some less worthy reasons people choose to adopt the relative. It’s certainly a tempting cop-out for slackers. Savants aside, most of us find science at best weighty, at worst intimidating beyond approach. Relativist arguments can be a comfort to those who really would prefer to not have to learn science at all. They can blow a raspberry at their old foe, call it witchcraft.
Problem is, it’s an attitude that opens doors to lots of nonsense, some cynical, some downright dangerous. The world is rife with charlatans, witting and unwitting, and where there’s ignorance there’s brass. Strange as it sounds, there’s a colossal amount of money being made from medicine with nothing in it at all. The strongest possible dose of homeopathic medicine is pure water, yet fortunes are made. And of course that’s not the only cost. Some of the more ardent new-agers actually worsen their health by rejecting proven medicines.
It’s point two again, choosing the best theory. Certainly, it’s true that some rationally produced medicines don’t do the job, and sometimes actually make things worse. But that fact doesn’t render all medicines equal, the tested and the untested. There’s still a huge body of excellent, life enhancing, preventatives and cures. Occasional errors don’t cancel out these gains.
Of course this is by no means an endorsement of the pharmaceutical industry! I’m only saying that the methodology they use in the lab, double blind testing, huge samples, are far more likely to tell you something about how you tick than someone who seems indifferent, let alone hostile, to rationality. Highly suspect.
It’s a sorry state of affairs, with consequences laid bare in a book I just read on the Alexander Technique. Clearly the author knew his audience. He felt obliged to spend the first few pages apologising for the fact that much of what followed was arrived at rationally. Sad to say, it seems ‘rationality’ triggers alarm bells in your average ‘holistic’ consumer.
Political abuse
Finally, the example that prompted all this in the first place. As I write, Tony Blair just lost his first vote in parliament, over “anti-terror” legislation. In the interview that followed Jon Snow asked if this finally proved that the proposed policy was mistaken, given such a resounding rejection by his own comrades. Not at all, he insisted. It is possible for the truth to be known to only one person.
Perfectly true, truth isn’t democratic. Reality is independent of thought. It is perfectly possible for only one person to know the truth about something, while sixty million others believe a falsehood. Clearly he agrees with the first of the above two points.
But come point two, which is the best theory, further investigation is required. Like good scientists we have to judge likelihoods. Principally, is it more likely that several hundred MP’s are wrong, or that the PM is lying? Key questions need to be asked: Does he have a reputation for lying? Has he ever lied about matters of life and death before? Does he surround himself with professional liars and media moguls who have made their fortunes from lying about things? In the light of that, which is the best theory?
You can do the same with the ‘war on terror’ in general. Of course it’s logically possible that it is a moral crusade, rather than an oil grab, but what’s the evidence? What’s the leanest and most likely theory?
Again there’s lots of key questions: Is there any history of western interference in the middle-east? Is there any connection between the self-proclaimed crusaders, and the oil and arms industries? Have you ever met another person, face to face, who could argue cogently that the war on terror wasn’t principally about western energy needs, or has it always been politicians and media pundits? If you were to write to your Labour MP and ask about the role of oil in all this, would you get a meaningful reply, or a polite refusal to engage? Is it really likely that Richard Dawkins, Jonathan Miller and Noam Chomsky simply don’t have the mental capacity to grasp something obvious to David Aaronovich and Richard Littlejohn? You have to ask.
It’s in the midst of such difficulties relativism can be the only refuge. Martin Kettle employed it in his Guardian column, soon after the London bombings. His piece was entitled, quite unambiguously, “Not a war criminal but the world’s leading statesman”. However when it comes to justifying this claim, things become more dilute. The question of what Mr Blair actually is, is dropped. All that matters now is how he appears, to different observers:
“I accept that when some people see Blair…..they see a war criminal or a congenital liar. But those who respond that way should accept that many more people around the planet see someone else: the leading and most articulate statesman in the developed world.”
You can see his difficulty here. If the ultimate war crime is to initiate a war of aggression then clearly Mr Blair is a war criminal. So there’s no way the faithful Mr Kettle is going to broach that one. Instead he makes a distraction. An extra quality called ‘statesmanship’ is conjured-up, one with the extraordinary ability to counter-balance, or actually cancel-out war criminality. Watch the birdee!
What you have in the case of Martin Kettle, and my doorstep Jehovah, is a forced relativism. It’s not a position either party wants to inhabit, but stark reality compels them. The picture of the world they wish to promote is clearly false. There’s a far more plausible explanation to hand. The PM’s legendary integrity is as credible as biblical literalism. Like the fossil record, the public record screams it out. Sometimes knowledge can approach certainty, and only one account should be taken seriously.
