I've been reading a book lately called "The Brain that Changes
Itself", which discusses a once-controversial theory that the adult
brain can rewire itself in the same manner as the developing brain,
with the main difference being that it just requires more effort to
focus the attention. It used to be believed that once the brain had
finished developing, its structure and function was fixed. However, it
turns out that, with the right approach, the victims of strokes and
the like can retrain their brain to perform the lost functions with
different bits of neural tissue.
But that's not what I'm writing about today.
One of the things that has struck me in the book's account of how the
neurbiologists rejected this controversial idea, along with previous
impressions I had obtained from other sources, is that the academic
community is riddled with idiots who reject evidence that contradicts
their beliefs about their field.
To see why this is crazy, look at it like this. Science is, largely,
about finding the underlying truths of the Universe. The problem is
that these underlying truths can rarely be directly observed (and
we've figured most of the ones that can out by now). One cannot
directly percieve an electron, but one can deduce its existance by
perceiving the effect of an electron gun in an evacuated chamber
pointed at a phosphorescent screen. But there are multiple
interpretations of that experiment - perhaps there are tiny charged
particles being released which stimulate the screen into producing
light... or perhaps the electron gun actually causes the metal of the
negative electrode to ablate and the resulting ion cloud then
condenses into an invisibly thin thread which coils out across the
vacuum until it touches the screen, whereupon electricity flows
directly down the wire and causes the spot of light. Perhaps the
vacuum is required, not because air inhibits the free motion of
electrons, but because the air disrupts the formation of the thread.
Yet we can rule out the thread theory in a number of ways, and there
are other experiments that show that electrons are discrete charged
particles. It's the weight of a whole heap of evidence that all
reinforce the correct theory and disprove all the alternative
theories. However, one can never be entirely sure that another theory
has yet to be discovered, which all the existing experiments fail to
disprove - but which leads to the development of an experiment which
disproves the electron theory, and reinforces the new theory. Perhaps
there are no electrons; but the "electron theory" has provided us with
useful predictions, and nobody has yet found fault with it. So we
stick with it. Even if it's wrong, it's useful - and if we ever find
it's wrong, that will give us the clues required to find a better
theory.
But there are levels of deduction involved here. We directly observe
the construction of electron guns and the appearance of spots of light
with our eyes. We apply previously reinforced beliefs that the
electrical power supply we connect the electron gun to will provide a
voltage, and that the electron gun will therefore emit electrons. We
observe the appearance of a spot of light, and therefore conclude that
the electrons flew through the chamber and caused the spot of
light. And from that, combined with existing knowledge about the
nature of light and matter, we construct a theory that electrons can
travel through a vacuum then cause phosphorescent screens to
glow. Each level of further deduction is less certain then those that
it builds upon, since its truth depends on their truth, plus a further
step of deduction - which might be wrong in itself.
So what do we do when new evidence comes and appears to disprove our
theory? Say somebody publishes the results of an experiment that show
that, if a kitten is within one metre of the chamber, the spot of
light on the screen grows into the kanjii for "potato". The electron
theory does not predict this. Have we disproved the theory of
electrons? Or have we merely discovered that kittens emit
complicated high-frequency magnetic fields that disturb the paths of
nearby electron beams? Well, I'm sure further experiments would be
performed, surrounding kittens with Hall sensors and SQUIDs and the
like, but for now, let's imagine we only have that one data point to
look at.
Electron theorists would probably question the validity of the
experiment at all. For a start, it is a leap of faith that the
experiment was set up correctly. Perhaps the electron gun itself is
defective and projects the kanjii symbol directly, and the kitten has
nothing to do with it. Perhaps there are coils under the bench
generating magnetic fields that steer the beam to draw the symbol,
either accidentally or as part of a deliberate academic prank. In this
case, with seemingly unrelated objects (kittens) having suspiciously
unexpected consequences (kanjii characters), that is a distinct
possibility, so the kitten theorists would be under additional burden
of proof to recreate the experiment - and to ask electron theorists to
defend their theory by recreating the experiment themselves to show
that it does not occur with "trusted" equipment. For sure, the
academic community does need some level of protection from a "denial
of service" attack from charlatans assaulting it with fraudulent
claims that have to be tediously experimentally dismissed. There is
scope to accidentally perform flawed experiments due to overlooking
some factor or failing to test all the equipment used for defects,
leading to honest results that turn out to be misleading. This gives
some credibility to the concept that some data can be rejected
out-of-hand for contradicting widely-held theories, but it is all too
easy to take conformist censorship at this level too far and reject
evidence that actually shows flaws in currently-sacred theories.
But what if the conflicting evidence is less silly, or it is
independently and widely confirmed in other experiments, showing there
is definitely some effect at work? Perhaps kittens do emit
mysterious high-frequency magnetic fields - in which case, our theory
of electrons is still valid; it's just our theory of kittens which
was wrong. As physicists are often more familiar with electrons than
kittens, it's easy for them to defend their electron theory and
question the researcher's grasp of kitten theory, thereby making it
somebody else's problem. Meanwhile, biologists asked to defend the
theory that mammal tissue can't generate intense, high frequency,
magnetic fields might point to excellent arguments about the maximum
rates of charge movements in various tissues, and tell the physicsts
that their electron theory must be all wrong. At least we now have
some kind of debate, rather than outright censorship, but -
particularly in cross-specialisation problems like this one - it's all
too easy for both sides to just ignore the evidence and blame it on
the other.
But what makes scientists so defensive? Good scientists realise that
the data is all we can be sure about (and, even then, we must be
careful of experimental errors, or failing to control for unknown
influences). They treat theories as temporary affairs, which suffice
until they are found wanting, or something better is found. Where does
this academic Nazism emerge, where academics will often jump
immediately to questioning the motives and competence of people who
hold views that contradict the mainstream, leading to the mainstream
remaining mainstream long after the weight of contradicting evidence
becomes overpowering?
I think a part of the problem is the fact that scientists with new
ideas have to fight so hard to get them heard over the mainstream in
the first place - they find it hard to give up the fighting mentality
once they've been accepted.
Another part of the problem might be human nature - scientists are
taught the existing lore of their field in lectures where they soak it
all up, and probably record it in their minds as unassailable truth. I
suspect they are much more open to reconsider theories they encounter
as "new" after having lived, for a while, in an academic world in
which no theory explaining the behaviour in question had yet
emerged. Theories considered "complete" when they were learnt are
probably rarely questioned.