Description

“To err is human; to forgive, divine.”^[1]

These famous words of Alexander Pope strike a universal chord. Nobody is perfect, but there are actions available to us that get us closer to perfection. With every improvement we seek to make, we must know what needs improving, and how that could be done. Philosophy can take such a beautiful literary sentiment, and apply it to meaningfully improve science communication. It can do so using error theory. 

Error theory can mean vastly different things depending on the context, however. I will discuss error theory as it appears in The Philosopher’s Toolkit by Baggini & Fosl. A radically different idea of the same name appears in ethics, where error theorists such as J.L. Mackie pioneered the idea that all moral statements are false. While definitely worth a read, it is not the focus of this chapter.

You might think of science as a highly precise, slow process which gives absolute certainty, and that is a fairly accurate picture. Science does aim at perfection, but like any human endeavor, it is bound to miss in some places. When it does miss, there is an opportunity for doubt to spread about the scientific method itself. This is especially the case with new things to study and when new ways of getting information are developed: where we have no frame of reference, untamed speculation can take center stage uncontested. The scientific method is self-correcting though, as it is built on critical thinking. Old theories that worked well for us in the past become supplanted by more grounded theories that better explain what scientists see. Communicating that new, better understanding, then, requires an account of why one understanding is better than another, of “how we could have held our former beliefs in the first place.”^[2] Thus, the new must be compared to a thorough reconstruction of the old, indicating where and how mistakes were made. That thorough reconstruction is an error theory.

Error theory, then, is a philosophical tool for assessing explanations and beliefs that bridges the theoretical gap between old and new understandings of science. It works on the assumption that errors resulting from an explanatory theory do not necessarily disqualify and completely devalue an explanation or a belief. Instead, scientists producing an error theory means they are paying their epistemological dues to the intellectual giants of scientific history whose shoulders they stand on. Errors are actually an inherent part of theorizing, and scientists are well aware that their understanding will be made obsolete by more advanced, future modes of science. The tool evaluates how understandably, or better, excusably errors were made in relation to a shared basis of evidence between two or more theories or beliefs, in which one argues that one belief fits the evidence better than the rest—that in fact, correct explanations are matters of interpretation of evidence, aiming at the highest level of plausibility.

This examining of the evolution of knowledge is well known within the philosophy of science. The highly influential philosopher of science Karl Popper devised the method known as falsificationism, which, as the name suggests, emphasizes how proving hypotheses to be false is more productive for generating scientific knowledge than verificationism. The falsifiability of a hypothesis is necessary for a potential theory to be counted as scientific. Since “it is logically impossible to verify a universal proposition by reference to experience (…), but a single genuine counter-instance falsifies the corresponding universal law,”^[3] a questioning of the concept of universal laws is required. If we use natural laws as much as we do, we would certainly like to be able to verify them. But the verification of universal propositions like natural laws through experiment is necessarily imperfect, which is known as the problem of induction. Popper’s method of dealing with this necessary imperfection of the empirical component of the scientific method is to prioritize “”truth-likeness” or “verisimilitude.””^[4] This means that at best we can only be justified in putting a certain level of faith in universal propositions, but that we can never honestly say that the odds of a proposition being true are 100%. Instead, that probability can only ever approach 100%, but never reach it. In accordance with the idea of a theory never being fully true, Popper held that “[a] theory’s content is the totality of its logical consequences, which can be divided into two classes: truth-content and falsity content.“^[5] Any error theory, therefore, will give an account of another paradigm’s truth and falsity content, and in doing so prepare common ground for understanding.

Error theory is explored here as a pragmatic tool that smoothens scientific discussions, which are becoming more important in all of our lives. Every theory has its truth and falsity content, and exchanging error theories helps us address truths and untruths socially. Since the popularization of the internet, scientific discussions of all sorts have cropped up and even become cottage industries in themselves. The re-emergence of flat-earth theory and its associated debunking sphere, vaccine panic awoken by alleged government overreach during the Covid-19 pandemic and, particularly relevant for this chapter, climate change denial, are all key examples of this. While it may seem right to ignore the adherents of so-called crackpot ideologies, doing so is anything but productive. In order to solve the issue at hand, people must first know how to prioritize successful critical discussions to avert unnecessary strife in the face of disaster.

Applying error theory to climate science communication/education

Error theory is a fortunate tool for educating about climate science then. If there is a “whole truth” of it, expressing it becomes the primary challenge. How can you know you have finished, and did not miss something? Furthermore, for climate science, many explanations of many phenomena from many different fields come together. They overlap, forming a picture of the reality of the climate upon which politicians act, directly bearing on each of our lives.

Since it is typically hard for people to give up their cherished beliefs,the answer to this problem is that climate science educators should actually pay close attention to and hear out theoretically faulty alternative explanations and give them credit for formulating those parts that they did get right. People obviously do not want to be misinformed, and telling them they are can make them feel unnecessarily bad if done improperly. And when people feel terrible, oftentimes they are no longer listening with care for learning. Of course, this also multiplies the difficulty of the problem of this chapter: how can we use error theory to make education about climate science more practical, if formulating error theories becomes exponentially more complex the more interdisciplinary the relevant field is, since therefore people’s faulty theories are rooted in various different strains of misinformation not refutable in short order?
Providing error theories makes climate science communication more socially practical between discussion partners: Showing solidarity that stems from everyone’s aim at the truth, a “we’re on the same team here,” creates a friendly, intellectually-honest environment and makes it easier to treat one another as equals. Of course, acknowledging how little we know can make us feel vastly different emotions. It can elicit embarrassment if you are proven wrong about something you thought you knew with a high degree of certainty. But it can also cause one to wonder at how the world around us works. Wonder at the workings of the world is one of the most powerful aspects of human knowledge-gathering, and it is this feeling which I try to provoke through the exercises below. Oftentimes we take things for granted, seeing them as “simple,” when explaining their existence is actually highly complex. Daily, banal things are rooted in a vast, webbed complexity “massively distributed in time and space, so viscous that it adheres to all that touch it.”^[6]

Your reflection on this exercise is key for the point of this chapter to carry its full weight. After all, if household objects are so difficult to explain from the knowledge one has at any given time, imagine multiplying the complexity of the phenomena being explained thousands of times. Political debates, for instance, attempt to use extremely complex explanations of phenomena that have global effects, to figure out what action to take on a given issue according to the effects on the country. Not only that, but those explanations of global phenomena are the results of fields of study intersecting with one another: experts from all fields, from international environmental science, engineering, agricultural science, etc., will all have their own perspectives and priorities when it comes to tackling hyperobjects.

Each can choose to focus on different aspects of the same phenomenon, so let us continue with the facet of transportation. Compared to international economics, which might take a special interest in figuring out which countries generate a higher gross domestic product, explained through transportation methods used, climate science takes a special interest in the effects such transportation methods have on the Earth. How can either of them convince the other of having made an error, if there are simply differing perspectives and priorities at play? Coming back to political debates about such complicated phenomena then, we might see why taking action on globe-spanning phenomena is extremely slow: there are a ton of errors to make and to leave them unaccounted for can have devastating effects, but what seems like an error in one theory can be a vital piece of reasoning or information in another.

Misinformation spreads very rapidly, most strongly affecting those who have no reason to doubt the information they are exposed to. Misinformation tends to be easily understood, and provides simple explanations that appeal to our innate desire to fully understand the world. Simply dumping a well-informed but inevitably, if actually well-informed, overly complex explanation on people can come across as unjustly belittling their understanding, or as an attempt to trick them to believe you by virtue of your ability to string together long words. Therefore, if you have a solid claim to the truth about climate change, you should construct an error theory of alternative explanations, which you can only do by taking elements of the faulty theory and going through its implications. Taking your discussion partner’s flawed point seriously is imperative for your success. You, with your well-informed, more fitting explanation, can guide the conversation toward key points in their more flawed theory by asking critical questions. In asking them explicitly for their explanation of a given phenomenon, they are immediately confronted with their own reasoning, making them more likely to reflect on it and more motivated to do so if they sense they are being taken seriously.

Let us move to an example with particularly high stakes.The lynchpin in the debate about climate change is whether it is anthropogenic, or caused by human action. If it is, it seems that our actions could be steered in the opposite direction. If it is not, then whatever is going to happen to us as a result of climate change can be considered inevitable anyway, which discourages taking many preventative measures, like moving away from fossil fuels. Opponents may justifiably say: “If we’re going to suffer such vast costs implied by phasing out fossil fuels, then those costs must actually have the benefit of meaningfully changing the situation.” The vast majority of scientific explanations for the phenomena that comprise the umbrella-term “climate change” are underpinned by the idea that, especially with the start of the industrial revolution, humans have played an extremely significant part in the changing circumstances that are currently being observed. Often climate scientists (rightly) appeal to the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, the resulting acidification of the oceans, the greenhouse effect warming the average temperature of the planet’s surface, et cetera.

An example of a theory that tries to counter to the idea of anthropogenic climate change is one that argues that the Earth and the Solar System simply go through a number of different cycles that affect our environment in ways that humans can in no way control. This is by no means far-fetched on the surface, considering figure 2, but we know better now. For instance, proponents of this set of ideas might cite the fact that in prehistoric times there was far more carbon dioxide in the atmosphere than there is now (Figure 2), without humans present to cause it, and that life thrived in these conditions.

An error theory that one might provide to this might be challenging, because there is a kernel of truth in this counter-theory: we actually did not cause the levels of carbon dioxide to be so high then, and life actually did get on well enough to allow the rise of Homo sapiens millions of years later. An account of the errors made in this theory might go something as follows, in a simplified conversation between a “teacher” and “student”:

This is meant to illustrate that even if you do succeed in providing an error theory to which your discussion partner is receptive, you are unlikely to completely change their mind on the matter. But that is in itself no problem, however frustrating that may feel. The point of such a dialogue is that even if they remain influenced by mistaken ideas, it is always worth it to strike up a critical conversation about such important matters, because changes in mindset are incremental. Providing an error theory in a conversation like this can shift the other’s mindset by such an increment. These kinds of conversations are so important, in fact, that entire works of political theory have been based on it. Jürgen Habermas, one of the most influential political philosophers of the 20th century, argued that democracy functions on the basis that those participating it discuss ideas with one another, and that democracy itself facilitates the sharing and reviewing of society-wide ideas. Therefore, democracy has value not merely for allowing an (arguably) fair distribution of power in society, or for guaranteeing more freedoms, but also as a tool for gaining knowledge: the more minds participate in formulating solutions to particular problems, the more likely it is those problems are solved. In using error theories in our deliberations, we are merely applying the scientific method to our fellow people.

Conclusion

In sum, the tool of error theory has many benefits and applications in the fight against climate change. Applying it to oneself is humbling, acknowledging the limits of one’s knowledge. Through that humility, one adopts a kinder view of those who hold faulty ideas. In adopting a kinder view of your peers and their ideas, you become more likely to hold solidarity in high-stakes theoretical discussions, finding flaws and processing them deliberatively: once we agree we are all on the same team, we get much better at formulating solutions. In doing so, we engage one another’s critical thinking abilities, improving them. I argue therefore that error theory should be seen as an obligation to anyone defending one interpretation of scientific evidence or another. And I urge you, the reader, to think on it, before dismissing alternative explanations. Even if you know you are correct, when in conversation, tact is key. And in scientific discussions, error theory is the key to tact.

Note on image use

Figure 1. Part of Hans van Bentem’s 1995 art gallery “Scherven Brengen Geluk,” located at Groningen treinstation Noord underneath the bridge. Photographed by Wout Strothmann in September of 2024. The work in its own right has nothing to do with error theory: this was a comedic” addition by the author of this chapter.

Footnotes