By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, April 02, 2019
These are challenging times for climate scientists. There
is widespread disagreement about the cause and meaning — and extent — of global
warming: They thought the polar icecaps were melting, but now
it seems that this may be within the bounds of normal variation. There is unexplained
methane in the atmosphere, and no one is sure where it comes from — except
that they are nearly certain that human industrial and agricultural activities
are not the source. The changes may not be global at all but merely regional.
The above questions are all the more difficult to answer
satisfactorily because of our limited ability to engage in direct observation
and the relative scarcity of the relevant instrumentation . . . on Mars.
That there has been some global warming on Mars is a fact
attested to by NASA, among others, though there remain many questions about it.
Climate-change skeptics have pointed to the Martian phenomenon to argue that
global warming observed here on Earth is not the product of human action but
instead has some other cause, probably solar. Skeptics of the skeptics argue
that if the sun were the relevant variable, then all of the planets would be
warming, rather than just Mars and — perhaps unexpectedly — cold remote little
Pluto. Skeptics of the skeptics of the skeptics have other views — and skeptics
of their own.
The scientific method, and science more broadly, is the
single most effective intellectual tool of our time. Its tremendous and
well-deserved prestige makes it irresistible as a political and social cudgel,
and it is consequently pressed into service to answer questions to which it is
not fitted. For example, there is a reasonably widespread scientific consensus
about the basic facts of global warming here on Earth, but even if that
consensus were universal, it would not be sufficient to tell us which political
and economic tradeoffs are suitable or desirable to pursue in response, because
those are political and economic questions rather than scientific ones. The
price you set on the convenience of the polar bear may not be the same as mine
— and very likely will vary considerably based on whom you expect to be paying.
But of course almost everyone wants to be on the side of
“science,” even — especially — when it comes to questions for which science has
no answers and scant guidance. Global warming — a phenomenon that is, famously,
global — is extraordinary complex, and the questions presented by it touch on
the most fundamental aspects of human material life in every community on this
planet. The dominant mode of discourse on this — to put a bunch of political
preferences into a slop bucket labeled “Science Says” — is stupid and
counterproductive.
It is also revealing: Many of the same people who believe
that there are simple straightforward scientific answers to these complex
questions retreat into an eccentric and daft metaphysics when presented with a
relatively straightforward question such as, “Who
Counts as a Woman?” What is put to death in an abortion is by any
straightforward definition a living human organism — living tissue, not dead
tissue; human tissue, not coconut tissue; an organism, not a tumor — and,
presented with those facts, the partisans of “science” will retreat into a
metaphysical discussion (“personhood” is the great cowardly intellectual dodge
of our time) worthy of the medieval schoolmen.
The rhetorical stakes of science are high — higher than
they need to be, in fact. Those Christians who have since the time of Charles
Darwin treated the science of evolution as though it were a threat to the truth
of their religion are fallen into an obvious and avoidable error (if God is the
Author of all reality but not bound by the facts of the natural world, then
accurate observations about that world and its processes can do no violence to
religious truth, to the modest extent that they intersect with the issue at
all) as indeed have the evangelical atheists who believe that their
discomfiture of certain Christians is of anything more than purely rhetorical
consequence. The end result of that has been an almost uniquely unenlightening
discourse in which a selection of lawyers and dentists rallying under the
banner of “intelligent design” have it out with retired children’s-television
hosts and other equally impressive scientific figures — for the benefit of an
audience of journalists, activists, and ax-grinders with no intellectual
preparation for judging the issues in question.
The recent discovery of methane emissions on Mars is a
fascinating development, not least because of the possibility that the methane
could — here Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez will wish to avert her
eyes — be of biological origin. But of course no self-respecting scientist is
ready to make broad and definitive pronunciations on that question, much less
on tangential issues falling under the general heading of “What It All Means.”
That would be foolish.
And — more relevant than mere foolishness — there is no
political or social juice to be had from doing so. To Representative
Ocasio-Cortez and her ilk we are indebted for their tireless repeated
demonstrations of the fact that global warming is not mainly a scientific
question at all, but an issue that is bound up in ideology and sentimentality,
in attitudes toward everything from capitalism to meat-eating to the aesthetics
of the Chevrolet Suburban.
From time to time, I read academic articles on evolution.
I cannot recall any of them ever having addressed the existence of God. They
are mostly focused on considerably smaller and more discrete questions, such as
the expression of this-or-that gene in this-or-that variety of cricket. The
interesting stuff — and most of the worthwhile stuff — is almost always like
that: specific, detailed, particular. Gregor Mendel, who laid the foundations
for modern genetics while studying the peas in his garden, was also an
Augustinian abbot, presumably concerned with some of life’s other very large
(and eternal) questions. He derived something profound from his peas because he
took the thing itself, individually, and asked: “How does this work?” Not the universe, not the final truth of all human
affairs, the fate of Western civilization, the means of production as such, but
this thing.
One kind of wisdom consists in being able to distinguish
between the very different categories of inquiry represented there, in the pea
patch, or on Mars.
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