Читать книгу Limits of Science? - John E. Beerbower - Страница 2

The perspective of this book differs from that of most books that one would find in the popular science section of a library or bookshop. I do not undertake to surprise or educate the reader with examples of the marvelous discoveries of science and the amazing things that we have come to learn about the world around us. Instead, and of more importance, I try to show the reader what we do not know, illustrating both the scope and the depth of our ignorance.

I have been tempted to think that at least the broad brush strokes of what I have to say here are already largely familiar to or known by most well-educated persons today. Of course, if that were the case, then there would be little point in my writing it all down. However, I am pretty confident that it is not the case. In my youth, I attended three of the English-speaking world’s most elite institutions of higher education. I did not learn these things. Admittedly, I did get an introduction and enough exposure to pique my interest and continuing curiosity (and to bring me back to this undertaking some 40 years later). But, I should have learned these things at university. What we do not know should be an integral part of a meaningful education.

Given some of the themes that will be developed in the pages that follow, it seems appropriate right up front to address one obvious question: why do I think that I am qualified to address the matters set forth herein?

It is certainly a fair question, and it is one on which I have pondered at length, especially when considering alternative and less frustrating ways to spend my time than writing the many words that follow. I have answered the question to my own satisfaction, as follows:

As an undergraduate majoring in economics at Amherst College, I took a particular interest in methodological questions arising in the social sciences, leading me deeply into the philosophy of science. I continued that interest as a post-graduate research student at the University of Cambridge. Thereafter, at the Harvard Law School, I studied the concepts of causation, evidence and proof, as well as the nature of laws—subjects just as integral to jurisprudence as to the philosophy of science. Indeed, the historical intellectual interrelationships between law and the relevant areas of philosophy are extensive. In addition, for over 50 years, I have been an avid reader of popularized science (biology, paleontology, physics, astrophysics, cosmology, genetics, evolution, mathematics). Many of the hundreds of books I have read were written by leading scientists in their fields as attempts to explain their science to the intelligent lay reader.

I also spent 35 years as a trial lawyer. Apart from deepening my understanding of the subjects studied in law school, how is that professional experience relevant? Well, I quickly learned in my practice four things that I think apply very clearly to the subjects that I address herein.

 There are always at least two sides to every issue. Every issue.

 Disputes of fact are very often genuine (there is no clearly correct version).

 "Truth” itself is relative and a matter of degree.

 Advocacy and presentation matter.

Also, as a trial lawyer, I had years of practice interviewing and examining witnesses and extensive experience with the use of experts and of expertise to “prove” factual propositions or to persuade an audience to reach the desired conclusions, with the use of logic to promote or rebut positions and with the assemblage and presentation of evidence. Although it was not always apparent at the time, looking back, I see the direct relationship between my professional experiences and some of the central issues in the philosophy and methodology of science (as well as, of course, in the politics and techniques of scientific advocacy).

As will become clear, my guiding prejudice in undertaking this project, and one of the beliefs to which I hope to convert the reader in the pages that follow, is that non-scientists can achieve valuable insights into and make constructive critiques of the developments that occur in the continuing quest for scientific knowledge, even of developments in the more difficult and technical areas of exploration. Thus, the writing of this book constitutes an effort to establish that my prejudice is, indeed, defensible. In other words, one of the arguments that I am advancing herein is that someone like me is capable of doing something like this. I hope that the demonstration is persuasive.

I am concerned about what I see in our age of specialization as a tendency toward a tyranny of expertise and a related misuse of science. Because the scientists know so much complicated, highly technical details, lay opinions are presumed likely to be wrong or, in any event, irrelevant.

One consequence of this feeling is apathy; another is withdrawal. Given the ever present and universal human temptation to take the easy road–to avoid confrontation and strenuous effort, both physical and mental; it is truly unfortunate that those individuals with the intellectual capability and natural inquisitiveness to understand scientific and technical issues should be deterred from even trying by the supposed superiority of the experts.

I do not mean, either, to suggest that this tyranny is something that is imposed on the public by the experts. It is just in the air.

In fact, I do not think that the experts have taken the lead in promoting this tyranny, except where religion is involved. Many scientists have expressed dismay at the public hostility and some have concluded that the solution is better education of the public about the science involved. Nonetheless, I think that part of the ongoing problem is the patronizing or scornful attitude displayed by some scientists toward the public; many experts show disdain for the opinions of the general public or simply refuse even to acknowledge such opinions as worth inclusion in the debate. It is also not helpful for scientists to fail to realize that public policy is much more than science and that that would be true even if the science were “certain.” Indeed, many valid policy differences have been reduced to a supposed conflict between those who embrace science and those who deny it. (Yet, only the most naïve would refuse to acknowledge that the more vocal proponents on each side would readily switch positions with respect to the authority of science if the implications of the science in question were to be reversed.)

It is important for the lay person to realize how much scientists do not know about even their own areas of expertise and to keep clearly in mind the limited application of what they do know to areas outside their own specialties. Engaged citizens need to recognize that scientists’ views on most things are pretty much as likely to be wrong as those of anyone else and that scientists’ opinions on, for example, matters of public policy should not matter more than the opinions of persons of reasonable intelligence and common sense. At the same time, in policy debates and general discourse, the scientist must not be dismissive of views just because they are expressed by non-experts. And, in the pursuit of science, the scientist must always be open to the possibility that he or she—and the authorities that preceded them—are wrong. In short, it is equally important for the scientist to try to remember the limits of his or her knowledge.

A second concern that is certainly reflected in this book is about the displays of antagonism and the use of inflammatory rhetoric by certain elements of the scientific community toward religion and religious beliefs. Admittedly, parts of the religious communities have exhibited emotional anti-science sentiments. However, it seems to me that open-mindedness and tolerance are not necessarily expected, and certainly are not required, characteristics of religious belief. Some religions embrace such values, but others are inherently and doctrinally not tolerant. Indeed, the members of some sects believe themselves to be directed to proselytize and convert. Science, in contrast, as a matter of proper methodology, is expected to be objective, open to criticism and critique, subject to empirical testing and willing to entertain new theories where the old ones are found inadequate. I think that we can and should expect something more and different from scientists than we do from those who profess a belief in a religion.

One might immediately suspect that I am anti-science. Nothing could be further from the truth. Perhaps, you may say, I am just anti-scientist. That also is not true–although, perhaps, less categorically so. I am certainly not “anti” practicing scientists or, more precisely, “anti” scientists who are being scientists. However, I do have objections to scientists engaged in policy and political or moral debates to the extent that they ignore the limits of their own knowledge or, even more objectionably, purport to claim some special insight or expertise as scientists to declare what is wise or good or right. In all events, I think that we need to beware of the scientist who claims that answers (whether it is questions of global warming, Darwin’s theory of the origin of species, special relativity or the existence of God) are known with certitude.

I concluded in the course of my own formal education that both understanding and reason are promoted by an awareness of the methodological issues underlying the physical and social sciences. Asking the questions about what we are trying to do, how we are trying to do it and what we can realistically expect to result from those efforts will bring humility and sensitivity to discussions of science and of policy. I think that many heated confrontations, with abundant self-righteousness on both sides, arise out of what are essentially miscommunications–the proverbial “ships passing in the night.” However, this conclusion is very easy to state and generally by itself contributes nothing to the arguments or the attitudes of the participants. We need more than the simple assertion of the conclusion that opposing sides have different values and perspectives; we need to explore why and how it is that many debates over science, morals and public policy do, in fact, fail to engage meaningfully and seem to generate only heat, not enlightenment. Matters of methodology and the theory of knowledge should be taught–indeed, should be an essential part of a liberal education. It is possible that greater familiarity with methodological issues could substantial improve communication or, at least, reduce glaring instances of miscommunication.

In pursuit of my long-standing interests and utilizing my experience, I have re-examined the writings that piqued my interest in the first place, then researched and read much more and, finally, tried to put the pieces together. I utilized mainly the more accessible writings of working scientists (and of mathematicians and philosophers of science), many of whose works were clearly intended for a lay audience. To be as current as possible, I have attended lectures and presentations by working scientists and tried to follow the new discoveries reported in the press and presented in leading journals. I have also relied on the works of leading science writers for history and context.

Naturally, I take full responsibility for all of the errors in the pages to follow. I regret the mistakes, but I hope that there are also many comments and conclusions with which knowledgeable readers can and will take issue but must finally concede are worthy of consideration. Otherwise, I did not do adequately the task that I set for myself.

In the end, the average engaged citizen does not need to know the actual science, but he or she would greatly benefit from an understanding of the nature of the limits and uncertainties about what we know and about how it is that we know what we think we know. I do not purport to provide answers, only to ask questions. Admittedly, I allowed myself a fair number of comments. Perhaps some of the comments will be useful in themselves; perhaps some will lead to observations by others that will be useful. In all events, I do hope that my work will be a constructive contribution to the search for understanding, whether by adding something to the substantive debate or by inducing others to become participants.

Note on format:

The reader will undoubtedly notice that I have included a large number of endnotes (footnotes having proved too difficult for multi-format publication) and have peppered the text with citations. In part, it is simply the lawyer in me showing. I intend the generous citations to be of assistance to the reader interested in sources. Ample citations are also used because I try hard not to assert on my own authority any facts. (The sources for the facts are clearly identified.) My task is to marshal evidence: to review, select and organize the "facts." Then I make arguments, draw inferences and ask questions. However, I caution the reader that this approach is not a guarantee of objectivity. The marshaling of evidence is an iterative process and inevitably involves personal prejudices and hunches and wishes. (Thus, I find the statements "the facts speak for themselves" and "we go where the facts lead us" to be naïve, if not downright disingenuous.)

My citations are a modified form of legal citation. For example, where a reference is to the same source just cited I use id., rather than the more conventional ibid. And, cf. essentially means "compare". The other signs are pretty much self-explanatory.

The endnotes are something of a copout. When you cannot figure out how to include information in a coherent narrative, drop a footnote (or endnote)! Yet, they are important. They contain a lot of information and some commentary on the text. I do recommend them to the reader.

Note to the second edition:

After I was diagnosed with ALS in 2015, I panicked and rushed the first edition to print. Over the subsequent months, however, I fortunately was able to reread what I had done. In the process, I revised a number of poorly worded sentences, corrected multiple typographical errors, deleted obvious redundancies and removed several paragraphs that I thought were unnecessary distractions. I also reorganized a few portions to convey better the points I was trying to make. Finally, I added a handful of new references to materials that appeared subsequent to the first edition. Many, many more could have been included, but I just picked the ones I thought most interesting. The result is this second edition, a bit shorter and, hopefully, somewhat more satisfying to read.