Great minds can sometimes guess the truth before they have either the evidence or arguments for it (Diderot called it having the “esprit de divination”). What do you believe is true even though you cannot prove it?
— THE EDGE ANNUAL QUESTION, 2005

I hypothesize that practicing science leads to greater agreement.

By this, I mean that I predict that two (or more) scientists will, as they practice science, increasingly come to agree with each other. And while I cannot “prove” this in any definitive (scientific) sense, I hope to lend support to this hypothesis with the preliminary reasoning presented in this essay.

Let’s begin by comparing two different epistemologies—two different ways of thinking about the world. Call them “science,” and “faith.”

As I will define it for the purposes of this essay, faith is a method by which we simply believe something, in the absence of sufficient, pertinent, accurate evidence. Conclusions arrived at through faith are often held beyond question, and are often held in spite of strong contradictory evidence. (Please note that I make no claim that this is the only possible definition of faith. I realize that there are many more, and someday I will write an essay reviewing them. For the purposes of this essay, however, please interpret the word “faith” as I have defined it above, even if that is not your own definition. Or substitute in your own word that fits that definition.)

Science, as I will define it for the purposes of this essay, is a method by which we can make predictions with better-than-chance accuracy, using a recursive process of observation and prediction. Scientific conclusions are based on sufficient, pertinent, accurate evidence, and always remain open to question, evolving in response to new observations.

As defined above and as illustrated below, science and faith are two opposing paths of inquiry. When we practice faith, we begin with ideas and proceed to believe them without testing their accuracy. As we continue down this path, we simply assert with ever-increasing fervor that our initial ideas were correct. When we practice science, we likewise begin with ideas, but proceed to test their accuracy before claiming to know whether they are likely to be true. We make predictions based on our initial ideas, test these predictions, and only continue to hold the ideas which are supported by evidence sufficient to make predictions of better-than-chance accuracy.

Figure 1. Science and Faith

Suppose that you begin with one set of ideas about the world, and I begin a different set of ideas. If we both have faith in our ideas, simply asserting that they are true without sufficient, pertinent, accurate evidence to support our claims to this effect, we are doomed to disagree with each other, to become more entrenched in our different positions as we argue about it, and to live in a state of profound disconnection. Faith is thus a divergent behavior.

If instead we both choose to practice science and set out to test our ideas, we may still begin with different ideas and predictions, but as we begin to test these predictions against the evidence, we will eventually converge on similar results, and agree, at least more so, about what we know. Regardless of how much our initial ideas may differ, by practicing science we will increasingly come to agree with each other. As we collect more data, our shared knowledge grows, and we are better able to connect with each other. Science is thus a convergent behavior.

Figure 2. Convergent Science, Divergent Faith

To summarize, faith is a method by which we simply claim to have the truth without or in spite of evidence, and science is a method by which we are able to make better-than-chance predictions by relying on sufficient, pertinent, accurate evidence. When we make assertions based on on faith, with no shared foundation of understanding, we increasingly come to disagree with each other. When we practice science, basing our ideas on a shared foundation of evidence, we increasingly come to agree with each other.

While I cannot prove that this will always be the case, I humbly present this hypothesis and preliminary reasoning for your consideration.

*****

As an aside, the ring that you may have seen me wearing serves as a continual reminder of this inspirational idea. The two questions marks forming a heart propose that by asking questions, by practicing science, we can come to greater agreement, and love.

While I invented the symbol myself one day while waiting at a stop light, I later found out that it has an interesting history that predates my invention. It was first introduced by Hervé Bazin in his 1966 book Plumons l’Oiseau as the love point, meant to punctuate a statement of affection, such as “I love you [love point]” In the same book, Bazin also introduced the irony mark to flag ironic statements, the acclamation point to show good will, the certitude point to demonstrate conviction, the doubt point to illustrate skepticism, and the authority point to convey a sense of expertise. (Click here to see each of these grammatical innovations, along with seven others). In 2005, the love point was cleverly employed in the music video for Daniel Powter’s hit song “Bad Day,” one of my all-time favorite music videos. See how by watching it here.

For other responses to this question, visit: The Edge Annual Question 2005

Some of my favorite responses from 2005 include:
* Elizabeth Spelke, “We All Share the Same Basic Human Concerns”
* Jonathan Haidt, “Studying Religion Will Enrich Our Science”
* Jean Paul Schmetz, “Most Economic Beliefs Are False”
* W. Daniel Hillis, “People Are Getting Better”
* Oliver Morton, “Greater Knowledge Will Make the Future Better”