Books are our Friends?

I’ve never counted how many books I read. I read a lot. I do read some science and the occasionally biography, but mostly it’s pure escapism, taking me to other worlds, full of magic and wonder, the kind of Sci-fi or Fantasy written by real masters; Tolkien, of course, Stephen Donaldson, Peter F Hamilton, Iain M. Banks, Robert Jordan (I’m only a little ashamed the I have in fact read the entire Wheel of Time series), Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, Terry Pratchett, Greg Bear, just to name a few of my favourites. It’s the stuff I was raised on; Mum used to read to us when we were little, me and my little sister, lying quietly while she did ALL of the voices in the books. Did you know that Legolas (and all elves for that matter) spoke with an Irish accent? I credit this as the main reason I have a sharper-than-it-should-be dislike for that androgynous waif Orlando Bloom who played him in the LOTR movies.

I’ve always had this abiding respect for books, not just because I enjoy reading them, but something deeper, almost spiritual. As if they possessed some abstract quality which accorded them respect beyond their immediate worth as a work of wit and labour.

“Books are our friends,” intoned my Honoured Matre, prompted by an act of literary cruelty, namely, throwing a book across the room. “Books are our friends and you should treat them with respect.”

So here I am, almost an adult at 29 and recalling this often repeated phrase is a telling reminder that we have so many little ways in which our childhoods shapes our adulthood. But is it true, are they our friends? From one perspective, a book can be categorised with a TV; designed to take your mind elsewhere for a while. From another, a book is an argument, laying out before the reader a case for, or against, or maybe simply exploring an idea.

Ideas are not limited to your friends. Those who might wish you harm also have them. A book is a powerful conduit from one mind to the other, transmitting that most infectious of agents to the next host. With this in mind, a book takes on an eldritch light, glowing with the accumulated wealth of knowledge of its authors and makers, setting out in plain speak that which is so. A book can tell the future, it can analyse the past, it can make bold claims about the present and change the course of events. It can deceive and lie, prevaricate and dissemble, all dressed up in florid prose or techno-babble. It is a special thing, to be cherished, respected and feared.

But perhaps I wouldn’t actually call them “friends”.

Where is the faith in science?

I'm a sucker for arguments, especially ones where I think I'll do well:P. But mostly, recently, on evolution and creationism. It's been a long argument, beginning about 150 yrs ago, to be precise. All too often during arguments over evolution, I find myself being accused of faith.

Science, a cdesign proponentist might say, is simply another faith. How can you claim superiority over other faiths in terms of an ability to claim truth or untruth? Science, like Atheism, is simply another religion and shouldn't be used to form public policy, at least in so far as it disagrees with MY faith.

I would argue that not only is science not a faith, it was in fact developed as a direct reaction to the pervasion of faith through society. Royal edict was fact and law, papal revelation was immutable truth, often on pain of death. While this served to preserve the power structure of many societies, it also severely impeded the advancement of human knowledge. I say this not to judge, just to describe the circumstances. Say what you like about religion or imperialism, those mechanisms gave rise to the societies that allowed specialists like inventors and thinkers to prosper. It is ever the sweetest of ironies to see a tyrant brought low by their own hand. On that note, one of the first modern science institutions, the Royal Society, was established with the remit of specificaly excluding matters of theology purely for political reasons. You could look at this as an historical accident, but what rapidly emerged was a highly efficient way of deducing useful explanations about our world. And perhaps I'm drawing a long bow with this, but is it not a coincidence that Monarchies fade went their supposed Divine Right is questioned? Or simply ignored. I wonder if the gradual realisation that power comes from knowledge and not from birthright played any role in that.

Science isn't a faith, not in the same way as a religion is a faith. Granted we might have what I like to term "Small Faiths", where we accept things without really understanding whats going on. I have a kind of faith that my car will start tomorrow, and that I can operate it safely to drive me to work. I don't know how the car works, except in principle, but I have a small faith that it will. Everyone has these, in the assumptions of our day to day lives. Science works because during research these Small Faiths are specifically identified and excluded. Nothing that cannot be confirmed and shown objectively is permitted to contribute to the emerging explanation. Why? Because we are very, very good at deluding ourselves into believing things that are not strictly true.

I believe that science is not a faith, but actually a recognition that in ourselves is a desire and ability to percieve things in ways that are pleasing to us, even if those ways are not consistent with reality. Self delusion is an extremely powerful force in our minds; it may be a byproduct of normal sensory interpretation, like pattern detection or psychological conditioning. We ascribe significance to patterns merely because they get our attention, we assume that what we perceive is objectively real - a necessary survival instinct, I'm sure. Can I be sure that really is a leopard? Suppose I only think I see a leopard, and it's actually just the play of the -EEEERKk..... You get the idea. Science recognises this fact as an immutable part of human nature, a part of our animal heritage. As a consequence researchers are required in all cases to externalise their findings, treating them with non-subjective analyses, controlling extensively for researcher or systematic bias. Peer review is only the last step in this process, where the over- arching hypothesis that was confirmed or denied by the many confirmed facts is tested for explanatory power. Emphasis on the peer-review process shouldn't over-shadow the many smaller processes of self-editing that go in over the course of a research project, which can be as simple a thing as talking to a colleague.

If I have a faith, it isn't in facts or theories, far from it. History is too full of supposedly "known" facts being quashed for me to seriously consider anything absolutely true. Rather you might say that I do have faith in the ability of science to winnow through the ideas we dream up, finding those kernels of value in explaining our world. Today, the global effort in science research makes this faith stronger, for the wider we cast our net across the many human minds, complete with their many prejudices, the more likely we are to stumble upon those ideas that work best. If you want to particularly pedantic about it, givern that science admits we don't, as yet, know everything, you might say that science selects out of our imagination those explanatory ideas that are least wrong.

But even there, faith isn't really the right word, as faith implies (or even requires) a lack of evidence. Science created the modern world, and testament to it's power and scope couldn't be plainer. Was the design for my shiny new laptop granted by divine revelation? No, it was nutted out by the accumulated hard work, over decades, of thousands of people through the rigorous application of the principles of science.

To reiterate, the purpose of science is to tell fact from fiction, primarily via recognition of our ability to imagine anything, and perhaps more importantly, for the propensity of ideas to cross the line in our minds between what is real and what is not. Science attempts to control for this effect, to find the ideas and explanations that do, in fact, fit with the universe (or multiverse, heh) as far as we are able to measure it.