A recent analysis of the New York Times‘s coverage of international news over the past couple of decades indicates its editorial emphasis on the Middle East as opposed to elsewhere. This ‘bias’ is attributed to ‘reader interest,’ which means that readers are attracted to a news source if that source gives them information that interests them, and if that news source fails to deliver the information they want, they will turn to other sources. The author of the analysis at <www.nemil.com> simply offers it as information rather than a critique of a newspaper that prides itself on its fact-based, source-confirming objectivity, but notes that if the Times has an implicit bias, then we can expect other news purveyors with fewer resources and a less rigorous devotion to ‘truth’ will have a more pronounced bias. All of which implies that ‘objectivity’–the notion that it is possible to behold and to communicate information about the world as it is as opposed to the world as it seems–is an extremely difficult if not impossible condition to achieve.
The world of is as opposed to the world of seems. Objectivity vs. subjectivity. Sub specie aeternitatis vs. sub specie temporis. God vs. you, or me, or anyone, or . . . ‘us.’ Let’s focus on the us.
We understand the notion of subjectivity as referring to the fact that all perception is grounded in individual states of consciousness. What you experience is not exactly what I experience, even if we are experiencing an event or situation together, and for a host of reasons, including the quality of our perceiving equipment (I may be deaf; you may have acute hearing) and our various cognitive and emotional resources. Thus, even if the five senses of two different subjects are equally acute, the disparate experience each subject brings to a perceived event alters the understanding of that event. This understanding is called apperception. Since disparate perceptual, cognitive, and emotional states inform the way we experience what is, we must therefore conclude that what is is always filtered by every subject, and therefore what is is always perceived–or apperceived–as what seems to be.
But now we ask, How is it possible to live in a common world? A world that seems to be more or less the same world for you and me? The answer is consensus, the tacit understanding of a shared world based on the socialization process and regular social interaction. While plants and animals pass on to the next generation their ‘understanding’ of the world through genetic codes, humans add to that genetic transmission a cultural knowledge passed on through each individual’s learning process. The cultural heritage of a particular society thus informs its members’ view of the world, of what is, through a certain lens, so to speak. This ‘lens’ is the social filter that admits or limits or ‘spins’ information perceived by the subject. It comprises the language, religion, values, etc.–the culture–of the society into which one is born and raised. Behind this social filter is the personal filter that develops for each person as that person acquires his or her unique experience of living-in-the-world, or, as Heidegger called it, Dasein. We experience our world in time and space, and an individual inhabits a sequence of spaces and times that are unique to that individual.
Two filters, then, mediate our experience of the world: our social filter and our personal filter. The social filter limits our perception of what is (we’ll call that objective reality) to what our socialization process has taught us; the personal filter limits our perception of what is to what our personal experience–stored forever in our memory–guides us to value as important to our survival and happiness. Our memory is divided into what is immediately accessible–our conscious mind–and what is only indirectly accessible, our unconscious mind. As depth psychology has demonstrated, we are motivated to act at least as much by the promptings of the information stored in our unconscious mind as by that in our conscious mind.
We live, then, in a more-or-less common world due to our socialization. But this means that the ‘common world’ is really only common to the members of our particular society. What about other societies and the various individuals living in them? What of ‘objective reality’ do we share with them? The answer to this question is twofold. We share the generic genetic inheritance of genus Homo, species sapiens; and we share the cultural heritage of a global society.
E.O. Wilson, in Consilience and in other of his writings, refers to what he calls “gene-culture co-evolution.” The genetic inheritance of homo sapiens evolves very slowly: we are little different from our ancestors of 100,000 years ago. Human culture, by contrast, evolves must faster: the isolated clans and tribes of prehistoric humans gradually evolved into nations, empires, and nation-states. The advent of electric power and multiple sources of kinetic energy (carbon-based fossil fuels, nuclear fission, and the various alternative sources such as wind and sun) facilitated the growth of transportation and communication systems, thus leading human societies to become less isolated. Today, in the famous phrase of Marshall McLuhan, humans live in a virtual “global village.” The mountain ranges, deserts, and oceans that once separated human societies from one another now no longer constitute impediments to social interaction. So, is our common world like a village, a society with shared knowledge and values?
In The Art of the Impossible (1997), Vaclav Havel characterized today’s world, not as a “global village,” but as a “single planetary civilization,” the various cultures of which are in conflict.
The single planetary civilization to which we all belong confronts us with global challenges. We stand helpless before them, because our civilization has essentially globalized only the surface of our lives. But our inner selves continue to have a life of their own. And the fewer answers the era of rational knowledge provides to the basic questions of Human Being, the more deeply it would seem that people–behind its back, as it were–cling to the ancient certainties of their tribe. [ . . . ] The end of the era of rationalism has been catastrophic. Armed with the same super modern weapons, often from the same suppliers, and followed by television cameras, the members of the various tribal cults are at war with one another. By day we work with statistics; in the evening, we consult astrologers and frighten ourselves with thrillers about vampires. The abyss between the rational and the spiritual, the external and the internal, the objective and the subjective, the technical and the moral, the universal and the unique, grows constantly deeper.
However we seek to characterize today’s world–global society, global village, planetary civilization, or Buckminster Fuller’s “spaceship earth”–it’s pretty clear that its unity is superficial, held together with international laws that have shallow roots in custom and a technology that is constantly changing. One area of our lives we all have in common, however, is the enterprise of science, especially natural science. It is now truly international, and its norms and methods are shared and respected in every culture and society. The Paris Agreement at the United Nations Climate Change Conference of December, 2015, signed by 174 nations on Earth Day, 22 April 2016, is but one example of global accord on a shared concern for the natural environment in which all humans must live. All signatories accepted the assessment by an international consensus of climate scientists that Earth’s climate is significantly affected by human activity, and that the human community is thereby imperiled. This global accord on the value of science is greatly to be cheered, but science faces its own challenges, especially from politicians, who must respect the immediate needs of their constituents as well as, or unfortunately more than, the long-term welfare of their descendants. Politicians skeptical of scientific claims to knowledge of, for example, biological evolution and the dynamics of climate change, seem to be pandering to the fears and desires of an unenlightened constituency, and while this is probably true in most cases, it is also true that an intellectual support for their skepticism has been established by post-modern theories of epistemology and metaphysics. These theories question the very premise of objectivity upon which all science proceeds and depends.
The very notion that we can know “objective reality” has been in vigorous contention since Friedrich Nietzsche, the hugely influential modernist philosopher par excellence, argued reasonably and effectively that, as he said, “There are no facts, only interpretations.” His “perspectivism” is grounded in radical subjectivity, the claim that all cognitive judgments are derived from individual or group states of consciousness and are thus limited by that consciousness. Such an epistemic understanding is behind all the post-modern “centrisms,” from the familiar “ethnocentrism” to “Eurocentrism,” “logocentrism,” “androcentrism,” “phallocentrism,” and so on, all of which emphasize that truth claims come from a point of view or perspective, and therefore are more in the service of power rather than disinterested truth. “It is our needs that interpret the world; our drives and their For and Against. Every drive is a kind of lust to rule; each one has its perspective that it would like to compel all the other drives to accept as a norm” (Will to Power, sect. 481). This critique of disinterested knowledge claims sounds very much like the rationalist’s critique of religion: something is not so simply because we feel a strong desire that it be so.
I conclude these thoughts with this proposition: A belief in objective knowledge is as much a faith as a belief in a certain kind of spiritual reality. It is the scientist’s faith. Without this faith, science could no more have produced its astonishing and consequential conclusions than the world’s religions their enormous power over the minds and behavior of humans for millennia. It is the faith that the human mind is capable of understanding natural processes, and so far, that faith has been justified by results. What has shaken that faith has been: (1) the weaknesses of its method when applied to human affairs (the social sciences); and (2) the non-science community’s failure to understand science as an ongoing process of hypothesis-testing, verification, falsification, application, and, sometimes, misapplication. The Nietzschean critique has been a salutary injection of metaphysical and epistemological skepticism into the tendency of science to become “scientism”–the belief that the scientific method is the only valid approach to truth claims. But that critique needs to recognize its own excesses, and one of them is the claim–the truth claim!–that the pursuit of objective knowledge, the faith in that pursuit, is itself inherently vain. In matters of ultimate reality and our relation to it, faith is not only required, but unavoidable.
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