Cropped part of the image that can be found towards the bottom of the article.
Sometimes we have to be reminded that the stories we tell ourselves about our history are but shortcuts, or narratives. Reading Vaclav Smil’s Energy and Civilization - A History, the following quote made me stop and think.
[C]ommercialization and the widespread adoption of steam engines advanced slowly, taking more than a century, and even during the years of their rapid diffusion, after 1820, they had to compete […] with waterwheels and turbines. While their use eliminated many kinds of animate labor […], absolute reliance on human labor and animal draft kept on increasing during the entire nineteenth century. These realities have led to a reexamination of a widely held understanding that almost equates the adoption of steam engines with the process that is generally but misleadingly known as the Industrial Revolution.
The dominant perception of the era as a time of epoch-making economic and social change […] has been questioned by those who see it as a much more restricted, even localized phenomenon, with technical changes affecting only some industries […] and leaving other economic sectors in premodern stagnation until the middle of the nineteenth century […]. Some critics have gone further, arguing that the change was so small relative to the entire economy that the very name of the Industrial Revolution is a misnomer […]—indeed, that the entire notion of a British industrial revolution is a myth […].
More specifically, British data show that to relate the nineteenth-century economic growth primarily to steam is a misconceived conclusion […]. Steam engines notwithstanding, “the British economy was largely traditional 90 years after 1760” […], and “the typical British worker in the mid-nineteenth century was not a machine-operator in a factory but still a traditional craftsman or labourer or domestic servant” […].
But the judgment is clearer when the process is seen in terms of overall energy consumption: its enormous increase—[…] a 15-fold increase in 200 years—made exponential economic growth possible, and undoubtedly, the steam engine was the key mechanical driver of industrialization and urbanization.[1]
Smil recounts that some historians argue that our perception of the the impact of the steam engine on industrialisation is inaccurate. It has been a localised phenomenon for a long time, rather than transforming the British economy as a whole instantaneously, as the average person with a basic education might believe. While the overall increase in productivity over a longer period of time is undisputed, the process of transformation that we call the Industrial Revolution was neither quick nor uniform across the entire economy.
In a similar vein, Smil later on dispels another myth.
At the beginning of the twentieth century oil was produced in quantity in just a handful of countries, and the fuel provided just 3% of all energy from fossil fuels; by 1950 that share was about 21%, energy content of crude oil surpassed that of coal by 1964 and it peaked in 1972 at about 46% of all fossil fuels. The two common impressions—that the twentieth century was dominated by oil, much as the nineteenth century was dominated by coal—are both wrong: wood was the most important fuel before 1900 and, taken as a whole, the twentieth century was still dominated by coal […].[2]
Again, the transformative impact of oil on our economies is not disputed, but its effect was stretched out over a long period of time. It was also not uniform; different industries adopted the newer fuels at different times.[3]
In this light, I find it very interesting to revisit the Scientific Revolution and consider whether we can also apply a more cautious approach to it as well, particular with regard to scientific method (or the scientific method).
A narrative with similar structure to that which “equates the adoption of steam engines with the process that is generally […] known as the Industrial Revolution”[4] can be found in our presumed discovery of a scientific method during the Scientific Revolution. The situation here seems worse, however, since, unlike with steam engines, we do not know exactly what we mean by ‘scientific method.’
This is not to say that there is no recognisable set of principles. When asked to explain what they think the scientific method is, most people, scientists, and probably many laymen alike will likely make reference to the principle of falsifiability or testability of hypotheses. It states that the scientist conjures up a hypothesis with relation to the subject of study, then makes observations. In case those contradict predictions that flow from the hypothesis, the hypothesis counts as falsified and has to be replaced by an improved one, thereby ensuring progress. The property of the hypothesis to be testable and falsifiable in that manner is the demarcation criterion which distinguishes science from non-science, that is every other form of knowledge-gathering and especially pseudo-science.
But still, what is true about the scientific method nonetheless is that it has never been satisfyingly described as a method. A method implies a sequence of steps which should lead to predictable outcomes. Progress is according to the principle laid out above imagined to flow from “conjectures and refutations.”[5] However, the question then would be: is there a reliable way to work—or do science—according to that principle? Were there such a method, one would assume courses and textbooks in scientific method would form part of any university student’s curriculum, and precede other more specific courses in the student’s chosen field. I am referring to practical instructions, not to discussions of philosophical underpinnings. As everybody can tell, we don’t observe things being done like that (although in isolated cases you might find something like that).
Many people, including working scientists, have an understanding on some level that “the” scientific method is to some degree an ideational construct or guiding principle rather than something which can be precisely pinned down.
The fact that it is hard to pin down and can’t be described in exact terms is in itself not controversial at all in the philosophy of science, the field which is concerned with that very question (amongst other things). Instead, there has been a lot of controversy over what scientific method means.
In 1975, a seminal work appeared which made the following case:
We cannot say: the structure of the atomic nucleus was found because people did A, B, C… where A, B and C are procedures which can be understood independently of their use in nuclear physics, All we can do is to give a historical account of the details, including social circumstances, accidents and personal idiosyncrasies.[6]
It argued that there is no set process, no sequence of steps, as implied by the term “method,” and states that scientific discovery can only be understood in retrospect. Furthermore, it contextualises science in terms of its history and society, whereas previously it was understood as an impersonal, abstract method that could be performed by anyone following certain procedures.
The work was called Against Method and has been written by Austrian philosopher Paul Feyerabend. In it, he coined a phrase which has become notorious: “anything goes,” which can be interpreted as meaning “there is no method.” But
[s]ince the aphorism is often taken to be anti-science, a sort of New Age affle, we must emphasize that Feyerabend never meant for one minute that anything except the scientific method (whatever that is) goes. He meant that lots of ways of getting on, including the innumerable methods of the diverse sciences, go.[7]
This statement captures that Feyerabend was torn in his motivations. He wanted to provoke, but he also was deeply invested in science. Renowned physicist Lee Smolin, who “met him and talked with him a number of times,”[8] has this to say about him:
[I] was very influenced when I was in graduate school by Paul Feyerabend who was a great philosopher of science who argued that there is no scientific method, that we scientists are opportunists, that we do whatever it takes to succeed at any time and to succeed means to deepen our knowledge, to have better knowledge, a better understanding of nature.
But there’s no magic bullet. There’s no magic formula that gets us there. There’s no set of rules. There’s no methodology that gets us there. So why does science work? Paul Feyerabend believed—and he’s often misunderstood—that science worked, and he deeply loved science.[9]
As thus—the lover of science that he was—Feyerabend provided a detailed account (in the form of a case study) of Galileo’s discovery that the Earth rotates around its axis, and how this discovery finally became the accepted theory—the prototypical science success story, in the hardest of the the sciences, physics. By retracing the twists and turns Galileo needed to navigate on his way to success, Feyerabend intended to demonstrate that science progresses by any means necessary.
Feyerabend’s provocation worked, and he attracted a lot of criticism. And some point, he felt compelled to declare that the motto “anything goes” was nothing “but the terrified exclamation of a rationalist who takes a closer look at history,”[10] which is, of course, a pretence. He was being clever there. His motivations for subverting science were clear.
It is true that Western science now reigns supreme all over the globe; however, the reason was not insight in its ‘inherent rationality’ but power play (the colonizing nations imposed their ways of living) and the need for weapons: Western science so far has created the most efficient instruments of death. The remark that without Western science many ‘Third World nations’ would be starving is correct but one should add that the troubles were created, not alleviated, by earlier forms of development. […] My main motive in writing that book was humanitarian, not intellectual. I wanted to support people, not to ‘advance knowledge.’ […] Today old traditions are being revived and people try again to adapt their lives to the ideas of their ancestors. […] Physicians, anthropologists and environmentalists are starting to adapt their procedures to the values of the people they are supposed to advise. I am not against a science so understood. Such a science is one of the most wonderful inventions of the human mind. But I am against ideologies that use the name of science for cultural murder.[11]
The following paragraph examines who he blames and how he believes the situation can be rectified.
[S]cience can stand on its own feet and does not need any help from rationalists, secular humanists, Marxists and similar religious movements; and, secondly, that non-scientific cultures, procedures and assumptions can also stand on their own feet and should be allowed to do so, if this is the wish of their representatives. Science must be protected from ideologies; and societies, especially democratic societies, must be protected from science. This does not mean that scientists cannot profit from a philosophical education and that humanity has not and never will profit from the sciences. However, the profits should not be imposed; they should be examined and freely accepted by the parties of the exchange. In a democracy scientific institutions, research programmes, and suggestions must therefore be subjected to public control, there must be a separation of state and science just as there is a separation between state and religious institutions, and science should be taught as one view among many and not as the one and only road to truth and reality.[12]
The only way I can see how his criticism of “rationalists, secular humanists,” etc. relates to his demand for a separation of state and science is if he believes the former somehow provide the philosophical basis on which state actors act.
Given the suggestion he makes at the end, it seems to me that Feyerabend’s motivation stemmed from his recognition that the concept of a singular scientific method conveys “interpretive authority”[13], thereby empowering the institutions that claim to adhere to it. This explains his emphasis that science is “one view among many,” and that he indicates that knowledge is not a good in itself, but rather something which is to be employed for the good of “the people.”
When we think back to Galileo, we see that it was exactly the same problem: a select group of people held the keys to truth—and therefore power—namely the Church and its priest caste. Here, Feyerabend seems to suggest that, in our time, the state may be at risk of becoming corrupt, by misusing its hegemony over knowledge. He feels compelled to counter this with his ‘Anarchism’ (the subtitle of the first edition was Outline of an Anarchistic Theory of Knowledge). Anarchism, as we know, means opposition to rule or rulers.
The counter-narrative, however, tells a very different story. It claims that, unlike the Church, our institutions are open to criticism and therefore do not hold a monopoly on truth.
Reading the title of Lee Smolin’s short essay (from which we cited above)—There is No Scientific Method—we can acknowledge that, roughly 40 years after Against Method, Feyerabend must have succeeded to some extent in dispelling the idea of a clearly identifiable scientific method—only what difference that makes with respect to his goals of taking away from centralised power is unclear; we’ll revisit that shortly.
In his essay, Smolin argues that what holds science together is not a method, but a set of common ethical principles. These principles include presenting evidence publicly and being open to being swayed by rational argument. Where evidence is inconclusive, debate should remain open and no single viewpoint should dominate. He believes that it is “important to encourage competition, to encourage diversification [and] to encourage disagreement.”[14]
Ultimately, he thinks that what
[…] is interesting about seeing science that way is that [it] makes science very closely connected to democracy because […] those same two principles govern[…] the success of democratic societies. And therefore it’s not an accident that the history of science is intertwined with the history of democratic societies and it’s not an accident that science has flourished best, not exclusively, but mostly in democratic societies.[15]
Where Feyerabend rallies against “the state” (or its intellectual advocates), Smolin sees the democratic forms of governance of our societies as being conducive to science.
Feyerabends motto of “anything goes” (which is but the flip-side of being “against method”) was meant to take away the sceptre out of the hands of centralised power. When anything goes, then nobody can control it; that was the thinking.
His intention and idea of how to subvert and dilute power was by casting doubt, making the familiar unfamiliar.[16] It is this what he did by taking a look back at the actual historic scientific breakthrough of Galileo—which marked the end of the Catholic Church’s hegemony over the access to truth—through a new lense. And it was in this vein that I opened this essay with Smil’s examples. The aim is to lay the groundwork for honestly revisiting the question of what really changed during the Renaissance period in science’s own terms that now grants our institutions a status previously claimed by the Church. What exactly was it that changed?
Successful knowledge gathering has been conducted for millennia. While there may indeed have been changes, such as heightened emphasis on experimentation, rigour and measurement, as we have already said, nobody was really able to pinpoint exactly what it was that constitutes the scientific method which is supposed to be central to the ‘new way.’ Is it the principle of conjecture or refutation? Or has that only been described rather than being a genuine novelty in practice?
The only thing we can say for sure—in the same sense as we know the Industrial Revolution had an impact—is that our institutions derive legitimacy from that principle. Furthermore, it seems to reinforce the power of the institutions; the proviso that every truth is only a preliminary one—by the principle of falsifiability—lends power an irresistible appeal, as it presents itself as open to criticism, in contrast to the Church. But one has to see that the view that knowledge is constantly “in progress” can also immunise one against criticism, as any falsehood can be blamed on the knowledge available at the time.
As indicated above, Smolin’s idea for counteracting such authoritative tendencies is competition and diversification. And I think Smolin’s appeal to ethical principles is best understood in this light. To give an account about accountability.
I’m talking about the ethics within a community of people who have accreditation and are working within the community. Within the community it’s necessary for science to progress as fast as possible, not to prematurely form paradigms, not to prematurely make up our mind that one research program is right to the exclusion of others. It’s important to encourage competition, to encourage diversification, to encourage disagreement in the effort to get us to that consensus which is governed by the first principle.[17]
He is of the opinion that democratic societies are conducive to this sort of open-minded exchange. However, by virtue of the fact that he deems it necessary to write this (and we should also take note of the aspirational tone) we might come to think that he seems to recognises the possibility that this is not automatically the case. He speaks about what should be the case, not what necessarily is the case. Some viewpoints might indeed come to dominate the debate unjustifiedly.
Ultimately, however, Smolin seems optimistic. We see this when he speaks of how “consensus which is governed by first principle.” Assuming ethical conduct in the form of rational discourse and openness to criticism, he thinks there is a necessary directionality to scientific affairs which should lead to a consensus.
The notion of scientific consensus has become a popular one and is an intuitive idea which has huge practical implications for governance. When policy-makers need to make a decision, this decision needs to be informed by experts in the respective fields the decision touches upon. If it is related to building, these would be architects, if this is related to space travel, these would be physicists, etc. And because there exist diverse viewpoints, one just lets them all give their opinion, or lets them talk to one another—and a consensus will be the result (which is our best approximation to truth in a particular matter at that time).
However, that an agreement cannot be reached is simply not factored in as a possibility. I think this is largely due to the implicit idea that, like votes in a democracy, experts’ opinions carry equal weight.[18] It disregards the existence of factions and fundamental disagreements between those which make consensus impossible. One simply cannot average everything out.[19]
As an example, in economics there exists a school of thought called Austrian Economics, whose self-understanding is that only they are actually doing economics ‘the right way.’ The mainstream of economics (which can be broadly characterised as Keynesian), on the other hand, sees the Austrians as an oddity at best. For us, what is interesting here is that Austrian Economics is based on fundamentally different methodological foundations, particularly the use of thought experiments. It does not believe in the quantitative approaches employed by most other schools of thought. There is no middle ground between these positions.
And here is the problem with “disagreement in the effort to get us to that consensus.” Even if Smolin is right that this will be the case eventually—which is an interesting question to discuss, but for another day—this does not hold true at any particular given moment in time. As it stands, at least two irreconcilable approaches to economics exist. That is a fact. That means that in many cases you simply will not be able to get a straightworfard answer by consensus. Although both approaches acknowledge the effects of inflation—higher prices—the mechanism which produces inflation is different in both frameworks; therefore we should expect to get different answers to most questions as a result of their differing explanatory approaches. Policy-making has no mechanism to take this into account.
The usual way out is to disregard one camp and categorise it as heterodox (or worse). The Wikipedia entry on inflation is instructive here; it mentions the Austrian take on the topic under the heading “Heterodox views.” We need to keep in mind that the whole idea of Wikipedia is built around the notion of consensus, which is reminiscent of Smolin’s idea of science as being founded on public discourse. In Wikipedia, this is modelled through the ability for everyone to edit, and to review other peoples’ edits.
We should recognise that it demonstrates exactly what Smolin warns us against, namely “not to prematurely form paradigms […] to the exclusion of others.” Which is precisely the situation we find in Physics, where String Theory has dominated over the last decades, much to the chagrin of competing theories, which—just like Austrian Economics—stubbornly just won’t go away, like the Gauls in Asterix. Concretely we can mention one where Smolin himself is prominently involved with, named Loop Quantum Gravity. Loop Quantum Gravity and String Theory are considered incompatible.
In the final analysis, I would say that Feyerabend did not win out, even if he was able to dispel the myth of “the method” to a certain extent. His ultimate goal was not to undermine science, but anyone having the claim to a privileged access to the interpretation of truth in general. “The consensus” seems to seemlessly have replaced the method (whose selling point was the inevitability to create progress), like the method has replaced Church exegesis at one point. Now Science and all our institutions proclaim legitimacy through their openness to criticism and correction and thereby present themselves as infallible in a way that appeals to modern societies’ sensibilities. The scientist is to be trusted not mainly anymore because he follows certain procedures, but because he participates in peer review.
Cover picture of the 2010 paperback edition (Verso Books).
Footnotes
p.236, Vaclav Smil: Energy and Civilization - A History; MIT Press, 2018. Paperback edition.
p.274, ibid.
Reminiscent of the Cantillon effect. Explained here.
Dramatically boiled down version of the above quote from from p.236 in Energy and Civilization.
This formulation goes back to Karl Popper, the perhaps most famous philosopher of science of the last century. The principle of falsifiability is directly attributed to him.
p.xix, Against Method (henceforth A.M.) Paul Feyerabend. All quotes here from my 2010 Verso Books paperback edition. It is the 4th edition, of which there exists also a hardcover. The particular quote here is from the Introduction to the Chinese Edition.
p.xiii, A.M. From the Introduction to the Fourth Edition, written by Ian Hacking.
Lee Smolin: There is No Scientific Method. bigthink.com. Henceforth T.I.S.M.
T.I.S.M.
xp.xii, A.M. From the Introdution to the Fourth Edition.
p.xxi, A.M. From the Introduction to the Chinese Edition.
p.xviii, A.M. From the Preface.
In the German language there exists a very good word for this: Deutungshoheit. It can be translated as “high ground” of interpretation.
T.I.S.M.
T.I.S.M.
p.xvi, A.M. From “‘a letter to the reader’ which was intended to precede his last book” (p.xv). There Feyerabend explains his approach by analogy:
Imagine […] a play. It has gone on for about forty minutes. You know the characters, you have become accustomed to their idiosyncrasies, […] suddenly, because of a trick used by the writer, the ‘reality’ you perceived turns out to be a chimaera. (Alfred Hitchcock, Anthony Shaffer and Ira Levin are masters of this kind of switch.) Looking back you can now say that things were not what they seemed to be, and looking forward with the experience in mind you will regard any clear and definite arrangement with suspicion, on the stage, and elsewhere. Also, your suspicion will be the greater the more solid the initial story seemed to be. This is why I have chosen a scholarly essay as my starting point.
T.I.S.M.
Altough I think the roots here go deeper. We can think of (methodical) individualism, rational actors, economic man.
In the philosophy of science this is known as “incommensurability” and has been a big topic in the highly influential The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn, which appeared in 1962, and which influenced all subsequent philosophy of science.