We all knew it would end this way. I just wouldn’t have guessed that endorsing the popular conspiracy theory that vaccines cause autism (which Bachmann misrepresents as “retardation”) would’ve been the point where she finally overextended herself — the straw to break the back of a campaign suffused throughout with delusional hackery, conspiracy theories, and shockingly overt extremism.
Despite repeated studies proving that vaccines do not and never did cause autism, this pernicious little unscientific myth remains fairly common, and benefits from other misguided and high-profile support. Nevertheless, Bachmann’s attack on Gardasil has bought her the enmity of no less than Rush Limbaugh, the American Academy of Pediatrics, and everyone in between.
I suppose we should be glad. Had Bachmann led her fellow candidates to adopt this last lie, the Republican field would’ve lost one of its last tenuous connections to reality. But I admit to some confusion that the candidates would draw the line here. The vaccines/autism connection is no less scientific than creationism, and the renegade studies “proving” it no less sustantiated than the renegade studies “disproving” anthropogenic global warming. Why does the heckler’s veto from agenda-driven rogue scientists demonstrate a “controversy” in global warming, but fail to create the same with Bachmann’s new pet theory?
My guess is, because the “controversies” over global warming and evolution are useful in a way that the “controversy” over vaccines is not. Institutional support for creationism in the Republican Party helps prop up the alliance between social and fiscal conservatives, by convincing Christians to continue voting against their financial interests in the name of identity politics. And perpetuating doubts about global warming feeds the “elitism” narrative so popular among social conservatives, while staving off the type of modern environmental regulations our peer nations have long since adopted, and letting companies like BP get away with murder. Unlike these eminently useful and manufactured controversies, the vaccine myth scares comparatively few, and harms big business.
Here, then, is the difference between Bachmann and her colleagues. Perry, Romney, et al. embrace the extremes for their political gain; Michele Bachmann is just a nutjob.
No-one is more surprised than me by the vocal, negative reaction we’re seeing among conservatives actually offended by the charge that their candidates, especially Rick Perry, are “anti-science.” I rather thought this would be a point of pride; isn’t “mainstream science” an “elitist” liberal construct? In any event, the counter-offensive, supplied by the National Review‘s Rich Lowry, goes amiss:
Perry’s offenses against science consist of his statements on evolution and global warming, areas where “the science” is routinely used to try to force assent to far-reaching philosophical or policy judgments unsupported by the evidence.
Apparently, the right bristles at the science of evolution only in an attempt to avoid these philosophical judgments, and “preserve a role for God in creation.” But this desire stems from a misunderstanding of what evolution actually *is* — a misunderstanding of the right’s own creation. Evolution makes no claims about the actual event of creation in the first instance. To the extent that Lowry correctly divines Perry’s basis for distrusting evolutionary science, then, Perry is erroneously conflating evolution with abiogenesis, compounding the ignorance of his actions with a foundational ignorance in his premises. I’m not sure how we should take any comfort from that.
And, regardless of whether the nation could ”survive” another anti-science president, the error is in Perry’s case far from harmless. As he proudly proclaims, Texas teaches evolution and creationism in its public schools, and creationism does, by its very existence, “criticize[] the scientific method.” It undermines it by drawing the Scientific Revolution’s most basic premises into doubt, meaning whatever scientific good is done in Texas through grants like the Emerging Technology Fund occur despite – not because of — Texas’ educational policy.
Finally, teaching creationism in public schools is illegal. Perry’s beliefs will either cause his state to continue to break the law, or cost the state hundreds of thousands of dollars in litigation. Let’s assume supporting creationism is somehow not anti-science. It’s still illegal, and a damn expensive way to make a point. Isn’t that enough?
[About the picture: hipsters on dinosaurs. No, I could not resist. Could you?]
Kevin Williamson at NRO punts on a fairly interesting question about why we should care that politicians understand science. His basis: because science is hard, and a specialist field, electeds can’t really know the answer to a scientific question in any meaningful way, making it impossible to judge them for their knowledge, or lack thereof.
But it is a rare politician indeed who is remotely qualified to accept or dispute any scientific question of any real significance. Politicians are here to consider political questions.
I have not argued that scientific knowledge does not matter. I have argued that the scientific opinions of people who do not know the first thing about science do not matter.
Scientific disputes are highly specialized, and meaningful participation in them requires a great deal of non-generalist knowledge.
This is a cop out of a very specific kind. Much like the conclusion of Battlestar Galactica, Williamson’s response is basically a surrender to modernity. Simply put, the epistemological uncertainty of being “correct” about everything new in the world is no excuse for incompetence. Granting that members of the general public can’t really know science as well as professional scientists, we, as members of a technological society, should understand it at least well enough to remain proficient in our chosen professions. And it is the function of democratic representatives to make decisions for the rest of us.
Necessarily, no one politician can know everything necessary to the faithful discharge of that duty. But he must know when (and where) to turn to for expert advice, and be able to rely on it. When politicians tolerate or embrace scientific ignorance — by rejecting fundamental knowledge, on the basis of faith — they’re telling us that adherence to a personal creed matters more to them than the ability to make informed decisions based on both reality, and a healthy, necessary trust of those who know better than him. This is fine for some professions: admirable, even, in others. But for a politician, it represents a dereliction of the elected official’s first duty: to make informed decisions based on objective reality that are binding on the rest of us.
As such, the question, “are you a creationist?” is not just a helpful question when evaluating a politician. It’s a central one, because a “yes” answer proves the respondent is either (1) deliberately ignorant, (2) a shill for an offensively narrow view of Christianity, or (3) a shameless panderer. None of those is a quality I would like to see in my representative.
Ah. For the sake of staying positive: it is a good thing for politicians to engage with difficult facts on an objective basis. We should expect as much from all politicians.
HotAir flags another unsurprisingly short-sighted move by American Atheists: petitioning to change the name of a street — “Seven in Heaven Way,” named for seven local firefighters who died heroically on 9/11 — because it apparently signifies the State’s adoption of the Christian “Heaven” as an official public belief.
For once, HotAir is partially right! This is a ridiculous demand, for its tone-deaf effrontery to the majority, and its blatant misunderstanding of how thoroughly modernity has mainstreamed formerly religious words like “heaven.” (If you’re under any preconception about the routinization of religiosity, I give you DJ Sammy. Or, in the alternative, rewatch Battlestar Galactica, and remind yourself that a reference to “angels” could just as easily be an idiotic plot point as an invocation of Christian seraphim.)
But let’s flip the question, assume atheism qualifies as a unitary belief system, and ask whether other Americans are as overly sensitive about their belief systems, to wit, their religions.
I’m not really surprised to hear Michele Bachmann (R-MN) insisting that schools should follow local policy when designing curricula, even and especially when that means teaching intelligent design. She’s obviously wrong — schools should teach science, not clever P.R. schemes –and it’s not like we don’t expect anti-intellectual pandering from her, as she flits from one hilarious conspiracy theory to another. But her motivating theory, that local government can decide what science to teach and why, seems both wrong and dangerous.
Local control properly handles local problems, and matters where local sensibilities and morality are relevant. Social studies, maybe. But from where I sit, 2+2=4 in Manhattan, and in the depths of the Bible Belt, too. Science and math are addressed to universal truths, and we cannot have students learning one form of reality in one part of the country, and another elsewhere. Unless we can avoid that, we’ll end up with a country even more polarized than it is today, where representatives from one state cannot even speak to those from another, because their basic preconceptions about life will diverge so substantially.
Something like this is already happening. When one state can whitewash our founding to avoid any mention of deism, we’re already at risk of forcibly creating a culture where rejecting uncomfortable truths is more important than relating to each other as Americans. That’s not patriotism, and it’s not presidential.
As of this writing, only one of the Republican frontrunners for the presidential nomination – Mitt Romney — is not a creationist. Granted, the 2012 Republican field is currently limited to just the usual suspects (2008 also-rans like Mike Huckabee), Newt Gingrich, and Sarah Palin, but still, something to consider.
Against this background, HotAir attempts to argue, by necessity we assume, that a decent understanding of science is not necessary for high office. But the article misses the point (especially when comparing the Bible’s historical authority to its scientific authority… wow.). It’s not that religion and science can’t co-exist (they can). Or that we should care about how our candidates moderate that conflict which exists between the two disciplines. But we should care that they try, and those creationists that populate the Republican field are not that thoughtful type. Rather, they’re the type to reject not just abiogenesis-leading-to-evolution as an explanation for the origins of life, but even the idea of a watchmaker God, who sets up the world’s processes, including natural selection, and then lets the processes run as designed. This idea, theistic evolution, is vastly different from intelligent design, and a harmless way to acknowledge the agency of a god, while engaging fully in, and crediting, the scientific process. This, the front-runners won’t do.
The point isn’t that Palin, Huckabee, Gingrich, etc., etc., selected poorly among available theories, or that their personal beliefs should matter. It’s that arguing for the teaching of creationism can be explained by only two things: a complete misunderstanding of the scientific method, and its importance to the modern world, or shameless pandering. Both render them unfit for national office.
And global warming deniers, and other adherent to those pernicious scientific minority views, that curiously become political plurality views. From a commentator on the study:
The authors [of a new study] favor a model, called the cultural cognition of risk, which “refers to the tendency of individuals to form risk perceptions that are congenial to their values.” This wouldn’t apply directly to evolution, but would to climate change: if your cultural values make you less likely to accept the policy implications of our current scientific understanding, then you’ll be less likely to accept the science.
More sophisticated players then cherry-pick science that, out of context, supports their cultural instincts. The assertion that this wouldn’t apply to creationists feels wrong. Fundamentalists of all religions are as likely, if not more likely, to build “cultural values” resistant to objective truths uncovered by modernity. It also explains the scientific sleight of hand noted in my article on Gonzales v. Carhart, where a parade of minority-view scientists built enough of a sham record to convince Justice Kennedy into signing off on an unconstitutional law.
Bear with me.
For a moment, imagine away the First Amendment. There’s no legal barrier to creationism, and permitting its teaching won’t necessarily imply an erosion of any other legal barriers. Is this video still worrying?
There are a couple ways of getting to yes. First (and most obviously), by arguing First Amendment values, even in the Amendment’s absence. Teaching creationism implies Christian creationism, implies actual indoctrination, and an exclusionary message directed at all non-Christians. In the sense that ideological coercion is a normative wrong, on its own, presenting some harm distinct from coercing someone to learn something True and Valuable, it’s also bad in that sense. Let’s assume away this problem, too: this is a classroom in some small-town caricature of “The Bible Belt.” There are no non-Christians, and the town in which this school is teaching creationism is, in fact, so ideologically uniform that all of the kids will go home to parents and families who will, with one voice, reinforce the “literal” creation myth. Assume away a pluralist society and the most compelling justification for the First Amendment vanishes too.
There’s still some harm in that the students here are being affirmatively miseducated. Creationism isn’t an issue: it’s a way of looking at the world, a rejection of empiricism in favor of dogmatism. In the creationist classroom, the Enlightenment, and the scientific revolution, are both dead (watch the video again to see what I mean: the arguments against evolution are all incredulity, not actual reason). If secondary education creates any permanent imprint whatsoever on a student’s eventual beliefs, this ought to be enough: teaching bad science to our children means a choice between either fewer scientists, or more bad scientists in the new generation. Is that enough?
I’d like to argue for a broader, more systemic danger. A student who is taught creationism in secondary school, and accepts it as true, will eventually be challenged to defend it. If the challenge is halfway competent, the student will be forced to choose between conceding defeat, or reinforcing their belief system, which will require reconciling some degree of cognitive dissonance, or somehow de-legitimizing the threatening viewpoint.
What’s that struggle look like? Here, it helps to have some experience with the standard creationist arguments. The true apologist — who deploys sophisticated arguments in defense of creationism, some of which aren’t obviously false (think, “The half life of carbon changes!”) — is rare. Most, fed by the generic culture war narrative, will fall back on a distrust of earned knowledge and “elites,” or assert the absoluteness of Biblical infallibility. Neither response is healthy for a democratic society. The former tends to undermine self-governance, because democracy requires an educated populace, one that responds to ideas on the merits, not by questioning whether their opponents are “real Americans,” and one that otherwise understands that the division of labor is not in tension with principles of equality. Scientists are better at science than non-scientists; that’s all there is to it. And the latter puts theocracy and specific religiosity over the “civic religion” of republicanism, undercutting the necessary virtue of pluralism and trending away from other bedrock principles like due process, and equal protection. Creationism may not be so bad on its own, but its teaching implies its perpetuation, which in turn implies a host of undesirable support structures.
At least, that’s how I see it. Is there any merit to any of this?
In Alabama’s Republican gubernatorial primary, the central issue appears to be the slanderous allegation that Bradley Byrne may not, in fact, be a creationist:
He’s here to assure you that he is:
As a Christian and as a public servant, I have never wavered in my belief that this world and everything in it is a masterpiece created by the hands of God. As a member of the Alabama Board of Education, the record clearly shows that I fought to ensure the teaching of creationism in our school text books. Those who attack me have distorted, twisted and misrepresented my comments and are spewing utter lies to the people of this state.
This is where we are as a people. It’s now a good thing to promise your constituents that you’ll bend or break the law to teach a shallow creation myth as historical and scientific fact, thus contravening all sensible theology, risking expensive litigation, misleading students, treating them as pawns in a culture war in which they have no stake, and crippling the state’s scientific competitiveness. In stories like this one, we can see clearly the death of democracy.
Thanks to N.P. for acquainting me with the title line, Socrates’ famous rejoinder.
Last Friday, Obama mocked congressional Republicans for characterizing his “pretty centrist” healthcare plan as some kind of “Bolshevik plot,” explaining that such scorched-earth argumentation leaves Republicans with little to no room to maneuver, and in fact demonstrates the party’s bad faith. Watch:
Clever, hard-hitting, and long overdue. But from the minute Obama said the word “Bolshevik,” this reaction from far-right outlets was unavoidable:
Conservapedia has never been one for metaphor or literary devices. A respect for context, and a willingness to look for meaning beyond the literal, is too much to ask from young-earth creationists.