Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Science and Democracy
Science and Democracy
13
Advisory Board
Jens Allwood Alan G. Gross Stephen Toulmin
University of Gothenburg University of Minnesota University of Southern
Han-Liang Chang California
Geoffrey Lloyd
National Taiwan University Cambridge University Ruth Wodak
Frans H. van Eemeren Lancaster University/
Kuno Lorenz
University of Amsterdam University Vienna
University of Saarbrücken
Adriano Fabris Quintín Racionero Chaoqun Xie
University of Pisa Fujian Normal University
UNED, Madrid
Gerd Fritz Yaron M. Senderowicz Ghil’ad Zuckermann
University of Giessen University of Adelaide
Tel Aviv University
Thomas Gloning
University of Giessen
Volume 13
Science and Democracy. Controversies and conflicts
Edited by Pierluigi Barrotta and Giovanni Scarafile
Science and Democracy
Controversies and conflicts
Edited by
Pierluigi Barrotta
University of Pisa
Giovanni Scarafile
University of Salento
doi 10.1075/cvs.13
Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from Library of Congress:
lccn 2018003758 (print) / 2018016997 (e-book)
isbn 978 90 272 0074 7 (Hb)
isbn 978 90 272 6404 6 (e-book)
chapter 1
The dam project: Who are the experts? A philosophical lesson
from the Vajont disaster 17
Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
chapter 2
Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 35
István Danka
chapter 3
Rethinking the notion of public: A pragmatist account 53
Roberto Gronda
chapter 4
The expert you are (Not): Citizens, experts and the limits
of science communication 71
Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
chapter 5
Decisions without scientists? Two case studies about GM plants
and invasive acacia in Hungary 87
Anna Petschner
chapter 6
Save the planet, win the election: A paradox of science and democracy,
an Israeli perpetuum mobile and Donald Trump 109
Aviram Sariel
vi Science and Democracy
chapter 7
Science and the source of legitimacy in democratic regimes 127
Oded Balaban
chapter 8
The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 145
Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
chapter 9
The political use of science: The historical case of Soviet cosmology 165
Mauro Stenico
chapter 10
The dialectical legacy of epigenetics 185
Flavio D’Abramo
Index 197
About the contributors
Roberto Gronda. I am currently a post doc at the University of Pisa. After gradu-
ating at the University of Torino, I got my Ph.D from Scuola Normale Superiore of
Pisa. My main field of expertise is philosophy of science. I recently edited a book
entitled “Pragmatismo e filosofia della scienza” (PUP), and I am now working on
a book on the notion of articulation.
Maria Elena Latino. Graduated with honors in Management Engineering at
the University of Salento in 2010. She is Research Fellow at the Department of
Innovation Engineering of University of Salento since 2012. Her research is char-
acterized by a cross-disciplinary focus, with major interest on technology for food
traceability, technology for marine and aquaculture, new product development
process, methodology and technology of complex systems.
Eleonora Montuschi is an Associate professor in Philosophy of science at the
Department of Philosophy and Cultural Heritage at the University Ca’ Foscari of
Venice. She is also senior research fellow at the London School of Economics and
Political Science. She currently works on scientific objectivity, on the theory and
practice of evidence, and on issues of expertise in scientific research and policy.
Anna Petschner is currently a PhD student at the Budapest University of Technology
and Economics, Hungary. In the Doctoral School of Philosophy and History of
Science, she is examining scientific blogs and science communication theories in
practice. Her research interests also include controversies, especially in usage of
gene-modified plants and nuclear energy power plants.
Aviram Sariel is a doctoral candidate in Philosophy at the University of Tel Aviv.
His current work includes theories of polemic exchanges (following Dascal’s
Theory of Controversies), Early Modern Gnosticism, and occasional contribution
to Invention/Patent Theory: the present paper combines them all.
Giovanni Scarafile. PhD in philosophy (Lecce, 2001), is a Senior Lecturer in
Philosophy at the University of Salento (Lecce, Italy). He is in charge of the dis-
cipline of Ethics of Communication. He also serves as vice president of IASC
(International Association for the Study of Controversies). His research interests
include ethics and its relation with the arts, applied ethics. He is editor and co-editor
of several books and the editor of the CVS Series, John Benjamins – Amsterdam.
Mauro Stenico is currently mayor of the municipality of Fornace and Cultore della
materia at the Università degli Studi di Trento. He is interested in cosmology, his-
tory of science, theoretical and moral philosophy. After a degree in “Philosophy and
the Languages of Modernity”, he received an international PhD (Italy-Germany) in
“Political communication: from antiquity to the 20th century” in 2013.
Foreword
Like dwarfs on the shoulders of giants
Giovanni Scarafile
1. Archeology of sense
In general terms, philosophy is the search for the necessary orientation to find the
sense of things. For this reason, to go back to the original meaning of the term
orientation is not irrelevant, because it allows us to approximate even more the
definition of philosophy itself.
As you know, the word orientation comes from the Latin oriens, present par-
ticiple of the Latin verb oriri, whose meaning is announced in an ancient saying:
«Oriri apud antiquos surgere frequenter significat»; thus, for the ancients, oriri
meant to arise frequently. Oriens is, therefore, what repeatedly arises and, as such,
it escapes the transience of the elements that cannot assert the same constancy for
themselves. The “surgere frequenter” is the principle of identifying what is constant
and which, as such, becomes a point of reference.
The term orientation, therefore, by derivation, means: to discern one’s position
in relation to reference points, identified on the basis of the constancy of pres-
entation of what arises. What is constantly present, in fact, has a distinctive value
compared to the other elements. The oriens represents things bringing themselves
out of fusional immanence, because of a transcendence affirmed on the basis of
constant presentation. This is why the early Greek and Roman temples are aimed
at the oriens.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.01sca
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
2 Giovanni Scarafile
2. Sense as intelligibility
Beings as a whole are now taken in such a way that a being is first and only in being
insofar as it is set in place by representing-producing humanity. […]. The being of
beings is sought and found in the representedness of beings (2002: 67–68)
This goal becomes fully attainable in the modern age, when the representative func-
tion, fully deployed, focuses on the subject, condition of possibility of representa-
tion. Talking about the subject in these terms means referring to monology, being
a law unto oneself. Drawing maps in monological terms means to attribute to the
monotony of a single voice the narration of the path of approximation to the sense.
In these terms, sense is traced back to the individual enterprises, whether it is
drawing maps or doing the reverse operation, returning from the map to reality,
to the thing itself.
Now, if we want to see better the territory indicated by the map – in other words,
if we really want to consider the interweaving of philosophical questions – then
the gaze of the individual is not enough. It is precisely this warning that underlies
the theoretical proposal identified by Marcelo Dascal, founding editor of the CVS
Series, with the well-known theory of controversies. Instead, we should be able
to look at the world through a scaffolding that structurally knows how to place
and enhance the gaze of the other. From this point of view, Dascal is, once again,
authentically Leibnizian. It was indeed Leibniz himself who claimed that the other
person’s point of view was the best place to see the world, when he said: “The other’s
place is the true point of view both in politics and in morals” (Leibniz, 2006: 164).
Actually, these indications of the Leipzig philosopher can easily be misunder-
stood. It is quite easy to understand these words as a generic invitation to savoir
vivre. I am convinced, however, that Dascal’s words allude to a very different chal-
lenge, the character of which is first and foremost heuristic. Therefore, it is not a
general invitation to give space to others within a vision of the world that would
remain firmly in our hands, but a reading and vision key to the world that puts us
far beyond the monological approach.
Each element of a map, of reality, and of a philosophy is formed by a complex set
of relationships. That is the point. To effectively see a map, to see reality, to philos-
ophize means to realize these connections. This intrinsic dialogicity is an eminent
condition for interpreting data under our eyes and thus arriving at grasping the
very meaning of what we seek.
Thinking well means first of all seeing well; and to see well, we need to resort not
only to ourselves.
4 Giovanni Scarafile
Studying controversies responds to this primary objective, to which the CVS se-
ries, founded by Marcelo Dascal in 2005, is dedicated. It has so far seen twelve
volumes published, rightly considered milestones in the context of contemporary
philosophical production. The first element that, without triumphalism, should be
emphasized is the innovative approach that Dascal has been able to imprint on his
“creature”. Faced with philosophical methodologies that, in a very traditional way,
univocally favour historiographic or philological reconstructions, the series focuses
on controversies, considering the forms of encounter between people and ideas.
Today, the CVS Series intends to remain faithful to this inspiration, continuing
to be a point of reference for scholars and readers of controversies. The fidelity to
the Dascalian approach becomes concrete in the extension of the name of the se-
ries, with the two references to ethics and interdisciplinarity. They were originally
included in the description of the series. Now their role is made explicit.
On the one hand, it is clear, in fact, that a research approach within which
otherness is not a marginal element, but its structural dimension, can clearly be
declared ipso facto ethical. On the other hand, it is inevitable that the climate of
listening and dialogue initiated by this constitutive openness to otherness becomes
concrete when it is translated into dialogue between disciplines. The ability to in-
vestigate the controversies implies the participation of disciplines. It is by develop-
ing the fundamental postulates of the theory of controversy that today ethics and
interdisciplinarity become our travel companions.
Foreword 5
5. Viaticum
While I predispose myself to continue the editing of this prestigious series of pub-
lications, I cannot deny sensing the weight of an overwhelming responsibility. For
the support and encouragement received, I would like to thank Varda Dascal and
all the members of the Advisory Board who have renewed, or expressed for the first
time, their willingness to contribute to this collective scientific enterprise.
As a good omen for the continuation of the CVS series’ editorial activities, I
would like to draw inspiration from an ancient expression of Gregorio Magno,
who in his Regula Pastoralis (I, 3) writes: “Pro Veritate Adversa Diligere”, that is,
“In seeking the truth, prefer adversity”. Without useless and misleading illusions,
the maxim confronts us with the most demanding of choices: to be authentic, the
experience of meaning must be entrusted to a centrifugal thrust, which projects
us towards what is different from us, up to the level of incommensurability where
every analogy between the ego and the other is rarefied. Faced with such an ascetic
and ambitious destination, we can only feel all our inadequacy. For this reason,
my hope, addressed to the readers and authors of this series, is that as dwarfs on
the shoulders of giants we can continue to follow the path indicated by Marcelo
Dascal and draw philosophical maps with which to orient ourselves in the urgent
questions that await us.
References
Dascal, M. (2017). Foreword. In J. Navarro, How to Do Philosophy with Words (pp. xi–xiii).
Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Heidegger, M. (2002). The Age of the World Picture. In Off the Beaten Track. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press
Leibniz, G. W. (2006). The art of controversies (translated and edited, with an introductory essay
and notes, by M. Dascal with Q. Racionero & A. Cardoso). Dordrecht: Springer.
Introduction
The relationship between science and democracy:
Harmonic and confrontational conceptions
Pierluigi Barrotta
The relationship between science and democracy has become a much-debated is-
sue. In recent years, we have even seen an exponential growth in literature on the
subject. No doubt, the interest has partly been justified by the concern of pub-
lic opinion over the technological repercussions of scientific research. Moreover,
there are scientific theories that, if they were accepted, would allegedly imply the
adoption of policies that have wide social consequences, as well as a rethinking of
deeply-rooted habits on the part of the citizens. These considerations alone allow
us to understand the reasons for the interest in the at times troublesome relation-
ships between science and public opinion which characterize democratic societies.
Of course, the relationship between science and democracy has never been
entirely peaceful. Just to make an example among many, think of the fierce con-
troversy generated in the 1950s by Velikovsky’s bizarre theories. On that occasion,
to quote the sociologist Alfred de Grazia (1978: 16) “the scientific establishment
rose up in arms, not only against the new Velikosvsky theories, but against the man
himself ”. There was part of public opinion that stood up for Velikovsky and against
what seemed an unjustifiable arrogance. However, today the relationship between
science and democracy is certainly more complex. In this regard, it is sufficient to
examine, even superficially, the disputes related to the use of nuclear power plants
or GMOS, or the disputes on global warming and the limits to economic growth.
These disputes cannot be easily brushed off as a clash between scientific knowledge
and pseudo-science, as could have been done in the Velikovsky affair.
Thus, the present historical phase at least partially explains the interest in the
topic; however, it is indeed only a partial explanation. In fact, we must carefully
consider other phenomena if we want to understand the present debate. Along with
conflicts between science and public opinion, we have to consider with equal atten-
tion the incessant controversies surrounding the nature of these conflicts. The title
of the book – Science and Democracy. Controversies and Conflicts – refers to these
two different levels, which in detail explain the interest that the topic arouses today.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.02bar
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
8 Pierluigi Barrotta
We have said that conflicts between scientific communities and public opin-
ion surface with some continuity in the contemporary world. These conflicts tend
to penetrate the same legal structures and economic conditions of democracies,
and consequently require reflection on the way they should be understood. The
academic and scientific world does not appear to be unanimous. In particular, it
appears divided on a central question: do these conflicts belong to the “pathology”
or “physiology” of the relationships between science and democracy?
The first view claims that science and democratic societies cannot in principle
conflict. In fact, a clear-cut division of tasks would exist: Science aims to explain and
predict facts (or, in short, it concerns the growth of knowledge), while democratic
societies would have the task to make the best use of this knowledge in accordance
with the purposes and values that they freely choose. Therefore, conflicts belong
to the pathology of the relationship, since they can only take place when either
scientific communities or public opinion infringes this clear division of tasks.
In the second interpretation of the nature of the conflicts, this view is chal-
lenged. Conflicts are inevitable because science pretends to offer genuine knowl-
edge of facts, while it is actually imbued with social values. In its most radical
version, this interpretative line claims that social values, once they are unfolded,
show why the alleged neutrality of science conceals power relations and negotia-
tions among different social interests. If this interpretation is accepted, conflicts
between scientific communities and public opinion would become physiological,
since they are inherent in the nature of scientific inquiry itself.
The Seventies and Eighties in all probability represent the turning point. In
these years, the need for careful reflection on science and democracy came to the
fore, since we witnessed particularly bitter conflicts between science and public
opinion. Alarmed by public hostility toward new technologies, the Royal Society
and the American Association for the Advancement of Science developed the pro-
gramme of Public Understanding of Science, in which for the first time the scientific
community addressed the problem in a conscious and meditated way. As we will
see, the attempt was not successful, but it was nonetheless a serious try.
Along with these social conflicts, throughout these years, we also witnessed the
birth of claims that have given rise to extensive controversies in the academic world,
since they radically questioned the above-mentioned clear division of tasks between
science and society. We find, for example, the first formulations of the strong pro-
gramme in the sociology of knowledge (cf. Bloor, 1976) and the publication of the
influential book by Carolyn Merchant (1980), which marked the development of
feminist epistemology. Their theses had vast cultural echoes.
The identification of a precise period as a turning point is largely arbitrary (on
this point see also the periodization defended by H. Collins and R. Evans, 2002, and
2017). Both conflicts and controversies took place well before those years. Suffice it
Introduction 9
to think of the conflicts following the birth of the environmental movements in the
Sixties or to the controversy surrounding the provocative work of Paul Feyerabend,
who, starting from research carried out at the turn of the Fifties and Sixties, ended
up with defending a society free from the “authoritarianism” of science. Certainly,
the epistemological debate that has seen both Thomas Kuhn that Paul Feyerabend
as protagonists has exerted a lasting influence. The current debate is the son of a
cultural and social environment that should not be reduced in schematic ways to
a few causes. Simplification is necessary in an introduction, but it should be taken
with caution.
If the harmonic vision between science and democratic societies was once
predominant among scholars, today this vision has been so strongly criticized as
to put his supporters on the defensive. The collection of essays edited by Noretta
Koertge (1998) or the book of Hugh Lacey (1999), to mention a couple of examples,
could be seen as manifestos in favour of the harmonic, non-confrontational, vision
of the relationship between science and democratic societies. Some brief remarks
will show how the pendulum has oscillated between these two positions.
The conception of the intrinsic harmony between science and democracy has a
long tradition. The alleged distinction of roles and tasks does not preclude the
existence of beneficial mutual influences and fruitful analogies between the proper
functioning of science and the functioning of democratic societies. Henri Poincaré,
cited with approval from Lacey, is an example. In the essay La morale et la Science,
Poincaré (1917) defends the ideal of value-free science, but at the same time he
claims that the scientific community is an example that should be followed by the
whole of society. In fact, as he writes (Poincaré, ibid., Eng. trans. p. 105): “Science
keeps us in constant relation with something which is greater than ourselves […].
He who has tasted of this, who has seen it, if only from afar, the splendid harmony
of the natural laws will be better disposed than another to pay little attention to his
petty, egoistic interests”. Therefore, values such as intellectual honesty, openness to
criticism and tolerance are essential prerequisites for both the growth of knowledge
and civil progress. In a book edited from Noretta Koertge (2005), many scholars
underline the thesis that scientific inquiry requires many virtues on the part of the
scientist, which should also characterize democratic societies.
This is a fascinating claim. It is even obvious that under various aspects science
and democracy follow different procedures. It is sufficient to recall that science
makes decisions through experiments and rigorous observations, while democracy
decides through the majority principle. However, beyond these obvious differences,
10 Pierluigi Barrotta
we should also note deeper and more interesting similarities, which contribute to
a better understanding of the operation of both. In this regard, we must certainly
mention two scholars, whose influence has had considerable historical importance.
The first example is offered by Michael Polanyi. Almost at the culmination of
a long philosophical reflection, supported by profound scientific experience as a
scholar of chemistry and physics, at the beginning of the Sixties, Polanyi (1962)
proposed an idea that turned out to be very influential: science is organized as a
republic, without any centralized authority. Polanyi noticed that both science and
the economic market, which is typical of western democracies, work thanks to an
“invisible hand” process. In this process, everyone proceeds having a look at the
persons acting in neighboring areas, thereby creating a network of partial overlaps.
In the market process, the mechanism to which Polanyi refers should be clear: it is
the mechanism of perfect competition, where each agent is a price-taker. In science,
it is the process of peer review (to which Polanyi does not refer explicitly). At the
basis of both mechanisms, it is the division of knowledge and competence that leads
to spontaneous coordination.
Again, in the last century, the philosopher Karl Popper (1966) proposed an
idea that turned out to be equally very influential, that of an “Open Society”. Here
too, the close similarities between science and liberal and democratic societies are
evident: for their progress, both science and democratic societies need critical dis-
cussion. In a nutshell, here we find the idea behind the critical rationalism which
Popper developed in both epistemological context and the social sphere.
With regard to scientific activity, Popper sustained that science proceeds
through bold conjectures and refutations. This is the well-known methodology of
falsificationism, which for Popper is the epistemological version of critical ration-
alism: scientists propose theories for solving empirical and theoretical problems
and then they test those theories by means of experiments and observations, which
is how they attempt to eliminate false theories. Regarding democratic societies,
Popper suggested that a similar procedure should be followed in the field of social
philosophy. In the logic of social research, the task is the elimination of suffering
or “unhappiness” in general: governments present programs for the resolution of
social problems, and citizens through democratic elections have the duty of check-
ing whether the objectives have been achieved in a satisfactory manner. Therefore,
for Popper, in both science and society the process of learning from experience is
basically eliminative.
These ideas are as simple as fruitful, not only from the point of view of epis-
temology, but also for social philosophy. Polanyi used his idea of a Republic of
science to fight the claim, at the time fairly common, that scientific research should
be planned in order to better serve social progress. That was a historical period in
which scientists who were only concerned with the truth were often accused of
Introduction 11
being “bourgeois” and therefore enemies of socialism. In the Soviet Union, this
idea became an integral part of the research policy adopted by Stalin. Polanyi, with
great lucidity, denounced its dangers: the search for truth, without concern for
its possible practical applications, is a necessary condition for scientific progress.
The attempt, typical of socialist democracies, to plan not only economies but also
scientific research would condemn those societies to backwardness.
Popper’s ideas proved fruitful as well. Like Polanyi, Popper’s polemical target
was totalitarian societies. Upholder of humanitarian socialism, at least at the time
in which he wrote The Open Society, he saw Soviet totalitarianism as a regime not
only antithetical to the aspirations of freedom and equality, but also as a regime
that had completely misunderstood the logic of research, both scientific and social.
These ideas fascinated both conservatives and social democrats (cf. Magee, 1973).
Prominent political leaders, such as Margaret Thatcher and Carl Schmidt, explicitly
claimed they were inspired by Popper in their manifestos for the democracies in
their respective countries.
From the point of view of the contemporary world, the ideas of Polanyi and
Popper, although certainly fascinating, show a clear shortcoming. They focus on the
analogies between science and democratic societies. However close they might be,
analogies emphasize mutual similarities, never potential conflicts and tensions. In
fact, Polanyi and Popper never took into account possible contrasts between science
(represented by the scientific expert) and democracy (represented by the public).
Today, in an age very far from that in which they lived, it is instead the insurgence of
potential conflicts that has mainly attracted the attention of philosophers, scientists,
lawyers and sociologists.
Once more, the Public Understanding of Science programme is probably the turn-
ing point leading from the “harmonic” to “confrontational” conceptions. As men-
tioned, alarmed by the hostility toward new technologies, the Royal Society and the
American Association for the Advancement of Science suggested that a capillary work
of scientific information was in need. In their opinion, science was too difficult and
the public showed clear misunderstandings of its reliability and scope. The remedy
consisted in inviting scientists to leave their laboratories and universities in order to
engage in work of improving the clarity and dissemination of the results achieved by
scientific research. This programme, which had obvious paternalistic connotations,
failed and today only a few would propose it, at least for its original intentions.
Many reasons explain the failure. First of all, the assessment of technological risks
is not reducible to a mere matter of information. Even though information is very
12 Pierluigi Barrotta
important we must also consider the importance of social and moral values, in
which scientists are not better experts than laypeople. An example is often reported
to illustrate the role played by values. At the time of the massive construction of
new nuclear power stations, it was argued that smoking a few cigarettes per day is
much more dangerous than living next to a nuclear power plant. This example was
advanced to show how nuclear power stations were entirely safe, but it is far from
being convincing. In fact, this line of argument disregards the values of freedom and
autonomy. People might freely decide to risk their lives for the pleasure of smok-
ing, while the construction of a nuclear power plant, maybe next to home, is most
likely imposed on them. In a similar way, think about the value of justice. Not only
is the amount of risk important, but also the way in which it is distributed (includ-
ing intergenerational distribution of the risk. Suffice it to consider the problem of
nuclear waste, which can be dangerous for tens of thousands of years, far beyond
the lifetime of any nuclear power plant).
So far, I have given examples from technological research. It could be argued
that in this way I have fallen into a clear misunderstanding: basic or “pure” science
is something quite different from technology. While the former only takes care of
the explanation of facts or the search for truth, the latter is more closely connected
with social and moral values. Yet, today this distinction is not that obvious and can-
not be accepted without caution. Many sociologists intentionally avoid speaking of
“science” and “technology”. Instead, they would rather speak of “technoscience”, in
order to emphasize their close connection in contemporary research. Popper (1994)
himself, toward the end of his life, noticed how the happy times where scientists
could confidently assert to be involved only in the search for truth were over.
The emphasis on the potential conflicts between science and democracy
emerges not only in the behaviour of the public but also in large sectors of the
academic world. The philosophy of radical constructivism, feminist epistemolo-
gies, the strong programme in the sociology of knowledge, the movements of deep
ecology represent examples in which science is perceived to be in conflict with
democratic societies. The alleged objectivity of scientific research and the honest
search for truth are seen as dangerous illusions that must be unmasked. In particu-
lar, the most radical constructivists emphasize how scientific theories are actually
“social constructs”, namely the outcome of social negotiations and power relations,
the asymmetries of which should be denounced. For this current of thought, the
acceptance of a theory is not the result of experiments and observations, but the
fruit of authoritarian power. Accordingly, the most urgent duty today would be to
denounce the presumed objectivity of science through the “deconstruction” of its
concepts and theories, in order to elicit the social relations on which they are based.
Scientists, and with them many philosophers of science, have sharply distanced
themselves from this. In this regard, it suffices to recall the so-called “science wars”,
Introduction 13
when in the Nineties some scientists – in particular physicists – along with many
philosophers of science opposed polemically constructivists and postmodernists,
judged as windbags unable to understand the difficulties inherent in scientific in-
quiry, which requires extreme rigour to steal secrets from nature.
Today, debates oscillate from the thesis of the intrinsic harmony between science
and democracy to that of their radical and inevitable conflict. Both theses appear
to have obvious shortcomings. However, it is not easy to find a “balance” or, to
use a typically philosophical terminology, locate their “sublation” through a third
point of view, which avoids the dichotomy between intrinsic harmony and inev-
itable conflict. This challenge is not only philosophical, but also in the broadest
sense cultural and social. It is in fact the prerequisite to understand the connec-
tion between scientific growth (the objective increase of our knowledge of nature)
and social progress (the development and affirmation of values characterizing our
democratic societies).
Yet, we believe that something clearer, though not exhaustive, could be said.
In our view, a pre-requisite to overcome the dichotomy is to reject an implicit pre-
sumption shared by both theses: Science and society are seen as two clearly iden-
tifiable separate blocs or entities. Stated this way, the presumption is clearly false.
It is hardly questionable that science is not unanimous in the assessment of
scientific research. One could object that sometimes scientists are not unanimous
simply because evidence is not sufficient. Yet it is worth noticing that insufficient
evidence would not necessarily prevent scientists from achieving unanimity. In fact,
in the case of insufficient evidence scientists might agree on the scale of uncertainty
and wait for more empirical findings. This usually does not happen. On the con-
trary, we have heated disagreements where each scientific party shows certainties
contradicting the certainties of the other party. As a consequence, it is far from
surprising that. scientific disagreements are sometimes strictly related to social
conflicts, because each party is supported by different sections of society. This is
the case in the controversies over the use of nuclear power, the safety of genetically
modified organisms, the experimental use of embryonic stem cells, or the contro-
versy about the limits to growth.
There are also curious reversals of alliances. In the 60’s, the founder of envi-
ronmental movements, Rachel Carson, strongly criticized the science of her time.
For Carson, official science was incapable of seeing the consequences of human
actions on the food chain because of its narrow specializations. Since then, envi-
ronmental movements have been wary of science. Today, with the controversy over
14 Pierluigi Barrotta
When speaking of science and democracy, the relationships between public opin-
ion and scientific experts come inevitably to the fore. This is a multi-faceted issue,
which actually addresses several interconnected problems that should be carefully
scrutinized. Chapters 1 to 4 focus on the scope and limits of experts’ knowledge and
the role of experts in democratic societies. It is in this context that it has been noted
that public opinion is sometimes right to claim to have a say in the way science is
applied to local circumstances.
Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi (Chapter 1) analyze the differences
and the connections between two types of knowledge: “scientific” knowledge and
“local” knowledge. Through a case-study (the Vajont disaster, which took place
in Italy at the beginning of the Sixties) they discuss a theoretical framework of
conditions and practical requirements that should be articulated to allow scientific
information and informal experience held by laypeople to combine suitably. István
Danka (Chapter 2) defends and clarifies the relevance of the distinction between
Introduction 15
evidence (the evaluation of which concerns the scientific experts) and reason and
normative claims, which do not require expertise, but competence in argument
evaluation and moral judgment. As such, the latter can also be achieved by educated
laypeople. Given this distinction, Danka argues that a dialectical approach is more
suitable than other approaches to collective epistemology about group decisions. In
Chapter 3, following some Deweyan insights, Roberto Gronda constructs a pragma-
tist conception of expertise in the attempt to overcome the dominant revolt against
the elites. Finally, Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti (Chapter 4) discuss the
limits of science communication. They argue argue that, while encouraging the
diffusion of a general “love for science” should inspire an appetite for more robust
scientific knowledge, it also fosters the emergence of problematic cognitive situa-
tions, with the propagation of the so-called epistemic bubbles or the progressive
belittlement of the role of experts in society.
Other essays equally focus on the relationship between experts and public
opinion, but with greater emphasis on the role of public opinion. Anna Petschner
(Chapter 5) presents two case studies, one on the reputation of the research on
GM plants and their experts in Hungary, and the other on the status of invasive
acacia, showing that media partly disregards the scientific standpoint in decision
making processes. Aviram Sariel (Chapter 6) dwells on the processes underway in
electoral campaigns which, on the one hand, seem to represent a moment when
scientific budgets are decided, but on the other hand, may register a ritualisation
of the violation of rules and standards. Oded Balaban (Chapter 7) too addresses
the role of science in political decision-making. Balabam argues that a discussion
of practical issues regarding the scope and limits of democracy, such as the danger
of the tyranny of the majority, is only possible if there is awareness of the absence
of a source of authority. Given this awareness, the principles of tolerance, freedom
and equality before the law appear as fundamental democratic principles no less
than the value of decisions by the majority. Finally, Giovanni Scarafile and Maria
Elena Latino (Chapter 8) illustrate the “Terra-Terra Project”, which is the result of
an interdisciplinary collaboration. In it several components converge, and they can
be traced back to the following two macro-categories: on the one hand, the need for
renewed food traceability as a result of satisfying the demands of the movements of
food democracy; on the other hand, the need to provide specific and personalized
information to consumers in compliance with ethical standards
The last two chapters concern more specific issues. Mauro Stenico (Chapter 9)
exposes the strategies used by the Soviet astronomy to oppose Western cosmology
and the aspects of this debate after 1953. Finally, Flavio D’Abramo (Chapter 10)
analyses the controversy about the way organisms develop, evolve and interact
in the environment. During the centuries, this controversy has taken different
shapes, from the schism between epigenesis and preformation, running through
16 Pierluigi Barrotta
References
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Collins, H. and Evans, R. (2002). The Third wave of Science Studies: Studies of Expertise and
Experience, reprinted in E. Selinger and R. P. Crease, Eds., (2006): 39–110.
Collins, H. and Evans, R. (2017). Why Democracies Need Science, Cambridge: Polity Press.
Grazia, A. De. (1978). The Velikovsky Affair, 1st ed. 1966, London: Sphere.
Koertge, N., Ed., (1998). A House Built on Sand. Exposing Postmodernist Myths about Science,
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Koertge, N., Ed., (2005). Scientific Values and Civic Virtues, Oxford: Oxford University Pres.
doi: 10.1093/0195172256.001.0001
Lacey, H. (1999). Is Science Value Free? Values and Scientific Understanding, 2nd ed. 2005, London
and New York: Routledge.
Magee, B. (1973). Karl Popper, New York: Viking.
Merchant, C. (1980). The Death of Nature. Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution, San
Francisco: Harper & Row
Poincaré, H. (1917). La Morale et la Science, in Dernières Pensées, 1st ed. 1913, Biblioteque de
Philosophie Scientifique, E. Flammarion éditor, Parigi, Ch. viii; Eng. trans Ethics and Science,
in Mathematics and Science: Last Essays, New York: Dover.
Polanyi, M. (1962). The Republic of Science: Its Political and Economic Theory, Minerva, 38,
2000: 1–32.
Popper, K. (1966). The Open Society and Its Enemies, 5th ed., London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Popper, K. (1994). The Moral Responsibility of the Scientist in Popper, The Myth of the Framework.
In Defence of the Science and Rationality, London: Routledge: 121–129.
Chapter 1
In 1963 a huge landslide covered the Vajont valley (north-east of Italy), where one of
the tallest arch dams in the world had been put in place (completed in 1959). More
than 2000 people died. The locals had repeatedly warned the scientists that the sides
of the valley were too fragile to hold significant impact, and publicly raised concern.
The ensuing media debate surrounding issues of safety in the valley soon became
manipulated for political purposes, and the important message got wasted.
With the help of this case study we analyse how two types of knowledge (of-
ficial science and local experience) may confront each other and why they fail to
interact. We then draw some lessons concerning how the use of expert knowledge
becomes effective and valuable in the context of non-expert knowledge.
1. Preliminaries
On October 9, 1963, shortly after 10.30pm, a massive landslide detached from Monte
Toc and fell in the reservoir of Vajont,1 where the tallest (at the time) arch dam in the
world had been built just a few years earlier (1959). For many good reasons the dam
was considered a scientific and technological masterpiece. At the end of the construc-
tion work the engineer who designed it, Carlo Semenza, filmed a short documentary
where he explained the many challenges scientists had had to face in building it, and
how ingeniously they had dealt with them.2 Semenza’s pride was justified. Even today
the dam arouses a sense of admiration. We went to see it in person: driving along
the narrow road leading to the small village of Erto, overcoming yet another bend in
1. The reservoir of Vajont is part of the Piave valley in the Dolomites, in north-east Italy.
2. The documentary can easily be found online. See, for instance, http://temi.repubblica.it/
corrierealpi-diga-del-vajont-1963-2013-il-cinquantenario/il-cortometraggio-del-59/
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.03bar
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
18 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
the road, all of a sudden the dam materialsed in front of our startled eyes. One of the
pictures we took gives some idea of its majestic size (see Picture 1). The look of the
landslide of that infamous October 9, 1963, was to say the least, impressive. Picture 2
proves it: the debris that can be seen behind the dam is not part of the mountain, it
is the very landslide that filled up the basin in a matter of seconds.
Picture 1.
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 19
Picture 2.
The dynamic of the Vajont disaster was somewhat astonishing: the dam resisted the
impact of the landslide – a demonstrable sign that it was an excellent specimen of
engineering work – but a wave with peaks over 200 metres tall overflowed all the
way down to the valley, reaching the town of Longarone, located at the far bottom
of it. It was a catastrophe, with over two thousand victims. From being the symbol
and pride of Italian engineering, the dam turned into something altogether different
and sinister. Part of the Italian media and public opinion unanimously pointed the
finger to science – namely, to its ambiguous involvement with political power, and
to the fact that the scientific experts employed by the company in charge of building
the dam (the Adriatic Energy Corporation – or SADE from its Italian name ‘Società
Adriatica di Elettricità’) had – to many unjustifiably – dismissed the locals’ concerns
over the stability of Monte Toc, neglecting several signs of danger and warnings
reported by locals well before the disaster occurred.
No doubt, the case of Vajont would easily fall into the wide array of case studies
that sociologists of science use to identify and analyse the deep asymmetries in
power relations between experts and laypeople. 3 In the case of the Vajont disaster,
the tainted relationship between science and power was emphatically raised by Tina
Merlin, a journalist who played a central role in this story, well before the disaster
occurred. In her book (Merlin, 2001) we find a most unreserved condemnation
of the science involved: truth was evident from the outset, Merlin claims, but it
was ignored because official science was totally at the mercy of the political and
economic power of the Adriatic Energy Corporation.
Merlin’s reconstruction indeed brings to the fore some undeniable evidence.
Yet, the story is more complex than the way she recounts it. In this paper, we do
not intend to deny the relevance of sociological and political analyses. However,
we believe that these analyses do not satisfactorily address equally pressing and
relevant issues in stories of expertise and social decision making – for example, in
what sense scientific knowledge sometimes proves inadequate as the sole adjudica-
tor of what course of action to undertake; or how to assess the cognitive strengths
of different types of knowledge, even those that are deemed to be ‘non-expert’,
and whether/how they can fruitfully combine. These types of issues, we believe,
can be more appropriately and effectively addressed by adopting a philosophical/
epistemological perspective.
In what follows, we offer an illustration of what such perspective can achieve.
With the help of some conceptual tools drawn from the philosophy of science, we
will detect two crucial errors in the experts’ formulation of scientific judgement
in the Vajont story. The first error is epistemological (scientists’ views were based
on poor evidence). The second error is moral (they did not sufficiently take into
account the villagers’ well-being). These claims might appear to be rather obvious.
However, the main thesis of this paper is far from obvious: both errors share a
common root: a neglect of local knowledge. In a nutshell, by neglecting local knowl-
edge scientific experts made both an epistemic and a moral error. Analyzing this
double-edged error will lead to a better understanding of what was at stake in the
Vajont disaster, what was overlooked, and why experts ‘qua experts’ felt entitled
(or at least, epistemologically justified) to act the way they did – with the tragic
consequences that unfolded.
In this essay we will proceed as follows. In Section 2 we will provide a brief
historical reconstruction of the events that led to the disaster. In Section 3 we will
examine the epistemological reasons that explain why the type of knowledge official
science relied on proved insufficient and inadequate to circumvent the disaster. We
will also suggest that those epistemological reasons were intertwined with moral
considerations. As mentioned above, the Vajont story shows that the scientific com-
munity was at fault both epistemically and morally: by overlooking local knowledge
consumption post the Chernobyl disaster in 1986, Brian Wynne identifies the reason of the dis-
pute with the clash between two cultures of knowledge and intervention (Wynne, 1996).
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 21
(in the two meanings we will qualify) scientists showed both poor judgement and
moral ineptness. This does not imply that non-expert knowledge is more effective
than official science, least of all that it should replace it. Rather, in cases such as the
Vajont’s, both experts and so-called non-experts should be fundamental compo-
nents of a united research community. As we will point out in the final section, this
would lead us in the direction of conceiving an idea of a community of inquirers
extended to both scientists and laypeople.
The first feasibility studies on the Vaiont dam project date back to the 1920s. 4 It was
the geologist and academic Giorgio Dal Piaz, a close collaborator of Carlo Semenza,
the talented engineer who designed the dam and supervised the works until October
1961, the year when he died, who finally suggested the choice of location for the
water reservoir.
It is important to note that the studies on the structural stability of the valley
were confined to the abutment area and its hydraulic properties. Nowadays it may
seem foolhardy to embark on a work of such magnitude without preliminarily
studying the inner constitution and resistance of the slopes in the valley. Yet, at the
time, the formidable engineering challenges of the project took precedence over the
geological problems posed by the natural environment – a choice partly justified
by the existence of well-supported knowledge of the nature and behaviour of the
rocks typical of that area, namely limestone (cf. E. Semenza, 2001: 32 ff.; Carloni,
1995, pp. 13 ff.). “From a geological point of view – Carlo Semenza wrote – the rocks
[of the Veneto region] are generally very good […]. Overall, limestone is honest
because it reveals its flaws on its surface” (cited in Gervasoni, 1969: 11). In-depth
geological studies were therefore considered unnecessary because the typical rocks
of the area did not raise any visible concern.
With hindsight, we are now in a position to say that that was an overly optimis-
tic judgment: contrary to Semenza’s expectations, the Vaiont valley would unfortu-
nately prove to be of “exceptional singularity” (E. Semenza, 2001: 29), and as a result
a number of potentially relevant chains of causally linked observations were left
unexplored (as will be discussed below), with devastating consequences to come.
It seems appropriate at this point to summarize briefly the sequence of steps
that led to the disaster, in order to provide some useful background to the forth-
coming discussion.
4. For a previous historical reconstruction of the Vajont disaster, see also Barrotta (2016),
Section 3.5.
22 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
At first glance, the Vajont valley appeared to possess all the characteristics that
would make it an ideal location for the construction of a dam. Indeed, its creators
had set their eyes on it ever since the 1920s, though the actual excavation work only
began in 1957. At that time, the inhabitants of the valley had already started cam-
paigning against the construction of the dam. This was justified partly by local op-
position to the considerable pressure exerted by SADE to acquire large plots of land
in order to commence work on a legally secure footing; and partly by some deep
concern regarding the safety of the small town of Erto, located dangerously near
the construction site. The locals knew that the area was subject to landslides. The
very origin of the name ‘Monte Toc’ bore witness to it. In local dialect ‘toc’ (short
for ‘patoc’) means rotten, deteriorated, prone to disintegration. The whole area was
in fact geologically fragile. This fact is also documented by Carloni (1995: 13, italics
added) in his historical reconstruction of the disaster: “Monte Toc overlooking the
left bank of the artificial basin standing at 1921 metres is a heavily tectonic lime-
stone relief in which fractures and surface movements of the earth are visible.” One
of the most important landslides took place as far back as 1647 and destroyed the
nearby village of Casso.
The inhabitants’ worries found a voice in the local and national press thanks to
the journalist Tina Merlin, an outspoken critic of the Adriatic Energy Corporation.
In an article published on May 5, 1959 in the national newspaper L’ Unità, Merlin
denounced the incumbent danger. She wrote: “the villagers […] sense a serious
danger to the very existence of a town situated close to where a reservoir of 150
million cubic meters of water is being built, which will eventually erode a terrain
prone to landslides and plunge the housing complex into the lake.”
The town mentioned by Merlin in her article was Erto. SADE commissioned
some investigations to test the stability of the slopes surrounding the town, but
ruled out any danger. They were partly proven right, in that the village was almost
entirely left untouched by the landslide that provoked the disaster. However, ruling
out danger for one village was indeed indicative of Sade’s more general attitude of
not taking seriously into account the possibility that the entire area was subject to
landslides and therefore unsuitable for the construction of a dam of such a size.
Unfortunately, the instability of surrounding slopes was to gain more and more
credence. On March 22, 1959, a landslide occurred in the nearby dam of Pontesei.
SADE scientists began to monitor the area and consulted with leading experts. On
June 10, 1960, the geologist Edoardo Semenza (Carlo’s son), delivered a report in
which he warned of the existence of an ancient landslide on Monte Toc which – he
claimed – could be set in motion by the construction of the dam. Though Edoardo’s
claim was not unanimously accepted, monitoring the area became more atten-
tive. Residents in the meantime experienced several light earthquakes, and in
November 1960 a small landslide of 700,000 cubic metres fell into the artificial
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 23
The first area of neglect we consider concerns the relation between expert and local
knowledge. In order to pursue a project of such magnitude as that of the Vajont
arch dam, the scientific community needed accurate general knowledge about the
chemical and physical characteristics of the rocks forming the terrestrial crust of the
area. Semenza and his fellow scientists had all or most of this knowledge. What they
failed to see was that (and how) this knowledge should demonstrate its real worth
(proof of effectiveness) in the particular circumstances where it was called upon.
Possessing general knowledge did not ipso facto entail that the scientists could make
it useful/usable in the specific circumstances (e.g. what could the impact of a spe-
cific environment be on the rocks in questions? what could the particular reaction
24 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
to that impact of these particular rocks in that particular location be? etc.). In other
words, what was missing from Carlo Semenza’s judgment was local knowledge.
Semenza seems to be inclined to believe that good general theory has automat-
ically all the resources and logical/technical tools to apply to specific circumstances.
However, shifting from the general to the particular is not just a question of logical
implication of the kind ‘if the situation is X, theory T will tell us that Y happens’
(Cartwright, 1999, p. 183). It is instead a matter of building an empirical judgment
of relevance with the help of local circumstances. In what sense? Let’s see in the
concrete case of the Vajont.
In using general knowledge of limestone to inform a specific situation (the
stones in the Vajont valley) not all knowledge about limestone is required. But this
is not only a question of quantity. Some facts will matter more (or less) than others
in assessing the behaviour of these stones in situ. In weighing facts against each
other a situational range (and arrangement) of assumptions and contextual factors
play a crucial part. On one side, there will be local information; on the other, an
empirical assessment of how local information directs our attention to what matters
in the circumstances. This is why deciding relevance is not an automatic given of
well-established theories (theories well corroborated by evidence). Even the best
theory is not ipso facto a relevant theory in some circumstances. Deciding on rel-
evance is partly a judgement informed by local knowledge.
Part of the problem in our story was that some of this local knowledge came from
the locals (the inhabitants of the valley – peasants and mountaineers), and expressed
in forms that the scientists felt entitled to disregard (experience, tradition, even
feelings towards the mountains). The scientists believed they had enough good
general knowledge to enable them to control what occurred in the area. To do their
job properly they did not need, on top of that knowledge, local information (either
in the form of fresh geological observation or, even less so, of fuzzy laypeople an-
ecdotes). Knowledge of the locals and knowledge of local facts – so they appeared
to believe – were redundant or confusing. 5
The reason behind this first area of neglect had nothing to do with criminal
responsibility. As mentioned above, there was no legal requirement at the time
to pursue in-situ geological investigation in advance of undertaking these types
of grand works, nor was it a current scientific practice to pursue them. Still we
can say, with hindsight, that Semenza’s judgment was poor, and it is by using an
epistemological perspective that we can see why. Semenza took for granted the
well-established geological background knowledge existing at the time and believed
that possessing that knowledge was sufficient to undertake the construction of the
5. In what follows, when speaking of ‘local knowledge’ we should understand it in both its
meanings: knowledge of local facts and knowledge of the locals.
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 25
dam in the chosen area. Thus, the neglect of local knowledge led Semenza to accept
poor evidence – more specifically, poor evidence in view of its use.
This is an epistemic mistake. Facts do not come with a tag attached to them that
says ‘evidence’. To say that certain facts count as evidence means that they count
as evidence for a certain situation or problem. This entails a construction of their
relevance as evidence in view of understanding the specific situation or problem
they are intended to provide evidence for. Furthermore, as we will see shortly, this
mistake at the same time points to a second area of neglect the nature of which is
not epistemic but moral.
Back in March 22, 1959, approximately three million cubic metres of material
slid down into the artificial lake of Pontesei, close to the Vajont valley. One man
died because of water overflowing, even though the lake was 13 metres below its
maximum capacity. For the locals, that was a confirmation of their concern; for
SADE scientists, it was an alarm bell. In fact, the latter were struck not only by the
magnitude, but also by the compactness and the speed of the landslide. They began
realising that a more detailed geological analysis of the area would prove useful at
that point. Carlo Semenza asked Leopold Müller, a distinguished scientist and a
pioneer in geomechanics, to do a survey. In order to write his report Müller went
to the Vajont valley on July 21 and asked a young geologist, Edoardo Semenza,
(Carlo’s son) to investigate the phenomena of instability that appeared to pervade
the valley. Together with his colleague Franco Giudici, Edoardo Semenza (1960)
came to an astonishing conjecture: the presence on Monte Toc of a pre-existent
large ancient landslide that could be set in motion again by the construction of the
artificial lake – in particular by running incremental series of filling of the lake to
test the reservoir’s safety levels. The conjecture did not include a confirmed estimate
of the size of this ancient landslide, though a guess of 50 million cubic metres was
put forward. Such an estimate was already big enough to raise serious concern, but
the actual size of the landslide that eventually precipitated into the reservoir were to
prove five times bigger (260 million cubic metres, spread over an area of 2 sq. km).
The scientific community did not unanimously agree with Edoardo’s hypoth-
esis nor his estimate. Müller was inclined to accept the conclusion supported by
Edoardo (though at the time he did not explicitly and officially endorse the hypoth-
esis of an ancient landslide), while experienced geologists such as G. Dal Piaz, F.
Penta and P. Caloi overtly disagreed with Edoardo. In particular, Caloi, who carried
out a geoseismic investigation, came to the conclusion that fractured rocks only
existed at the surface of Monte Toc. For him, no ancient landslide ever existed (See
Caloi, 1966).
Situations of disagreement are not unusual in science. Evidence can prove un-
certain and contested, and often scientific disciplines are not established enough
to assist in disputes. Carlo Semenza found himself right in the middle of one of
26 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
these thorny situations. At the time, geology was not a well-established paradigm.
Geologists used different methods of investigation, the results of which were not
always compatible with each other. As a consequence, he had to face extreme uncer-
tainty about the evidence and deep disagreement among experts. The way he made
his decision about what to do and how to solve the difficult and complex situation
he was confronted with can be reconstructed in the following terms: he made an
epistemological error of judgement that carried with it a clear moral implication.
To anticipate the framework of the error: by neglecting local knowledge,
Semenza considerably underestimated the probability that the construction of the
dam could set in motion the ancient landslide and consequently a series of devastat-
ing geological phenomena in the valley. There is here a clear entanglement between
the epistemic and the moral: an epistemic error (neglecting local knowledge) led
the scientists to commit a moral error (they appeared to be willing to accept too a
high risk by jeopardizing the life of the inhabitants).
In the 1950s the philosopher Richard Rudner (1953) had already pointed out
that when scientists decide to accept or reject a hypothesis they implicitly make a
moral decision. This is because the strength of evidence “is going to be a function
of the importance, in the typically ethical sense, of making a mistake in accepting
or rejecting the hypothesis” (Rudner, 1953: 2). 6
Rudner’s view put us on the right track to address the problem of the entan-
glement of the epistemic and the moral in the case of the Vajont disaster, though
in this case the entanglement itself takes a different, and in a sense more radical,
form. In Rudner the entanglement between the epistemic and the moral occurs
because in accepting (or rejecting) a hypothesis the scientist needs to make both
an epistemic decision (a probability assignment, i.e. the probability of a hypothesis
being true) and a morally risky decision (a risk evaluation, i.e. what is the risk
involved in wrongly either accepting or rejecting a hypothesis). Thus, following
Rudner in principle we could avoid the entanglement by claiming that scientists are
only concerned with the probability assignment problem. 7 Whether the scientist
is, or should be, interested in accepting or rejecting a hypothesis is in principle a
separate/separable issue.
6. Here we have touched upon the distinction between type I error (the error of accepting a
hypothesis when it is false) and type II error (the error of rejecting a hypothesis when it is true).
We will not discuss this issue here.
7. This is the line of reasoning suggested by Jeffrey (1956) and, more recently, by Betz (2013).
Here we have simplified the argument proposed by Rudner. In all likelihood, Rudner would
not accept the way we have reconstructed it (see Rudner, 1953: 3–4). However, simplification is
justified here as the problem raised by us is in any case different from the one raised by Rudner.
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 27
The Vajont disaster shows us that the entanglement between the epistemic and
the moral cannot be avoided, not even in principle, since in the final analysis it is
rooted in the very problem we have raised in the first part of this essay: the neglect
of the locals’ views. In fact, probability assignment appears to have a moral import
from the start, since it crucially depends on a different kind of risky acceptance,
namely one that entails what kind of evidence should be considered relevant. As
argued above, this is where local knowledge comes to the fore. The locals in the
Vajont case were pertinent knowers, since their opinion was germane to the gath-
ering of relevant evidence (the importance of local knowledge in making relevant
use of general knowledge). Besides, it should be noted that in this case the locals
were also stakeholders and understandably asked for the minimizing of the risks
of incidents. In short, Semenza’s error consists of not involving the locals in the
search of the best line of action to undertake, in the light of morally-loaded epis-
temic considerations.
It is interesting to examine how Semenza faced up to the situation when the
ancient landslide hypothesis acquired further support. He knew that the artificial
lake could affect the stability of the landslide and put not only the dam, but also
the inhabitants of the valley in serious danger. He clearly had to avoid a human
catastrophe. Yet, he acted as if the problem was only (or primarily) technical and
epistemic. He looked for scientific/technical solutions for what he took to be a
specifically scientific/technical problem.
In November 1960, he started building a by-pass (Picture 3). In the case of a
landslide, it would prevent the rising of upstream water, which would endanger
the town of Erto. In the same month, a landslide of 700.000 cubic metres fell into
the basin: it was a small part of the ancient landslide that had set itself in motion.
Edoardo’s hypothesis was closer to reality than ever, and growing evidence also lent
further support to the devastating prospect that the conjectured ancient landslide
could be much bigger than Edoardo first estimated (only Dal Piaz and Penta con-
tinued to be optimistic at that point). 8
8. Caloi carried out a second investigation, which led him to change his previous view dramat-
ically. According to his new results, now the area of fractured rocks appeared to be much deeper
and wider. We must also mention the 15th report drafted by Müller (1961). That report was
probably the strongest blow to Carlo Semenza’s hopes. Following Paolini and Vaci’s (2013: 84)
historical reconstruction, Müller suggested that SADE should have abandoned the whole project.
This is actually not entirely correct, but the report was all the same rather disturbing. Müller
(1961: 14–16) mentioned several measures that could have been taken in order to control the
landslide, though none of them were feasible given the technology available at the time.
28 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
Picture 3.
Before dying Semenza played yet another card. He asked Augusto Ghetti (Director
of The Institute of Hydraulics, University of Padua) to build a model of the dam
and of the whole reservoir – a highly innovative move at the time. It was the first
purpose-built model in Italy, and one of the first in the world (Picture 4). It was
meant to assist in understanding the effect of a landslide on the reservoir. Since
scientists were unsure about the stability of the slope which the landslide laid on,
Ghetti carried out several experiments using the purpose-built model. Given the
worst-case scenario, he came to the conclusion that there was no danger if the level
of water in the basin did not exceed 700 metres, and provided that the dam resisted
water impact. 9
9. As Ghetti (Zanetti, 2013, p. 49) wrote: “This seems sufficient to conclude that, starting from
the maximum reservoir flooded top water level, the fall of the expected mass landslide could get
to produce an overflow of about 30,000 cubic metres/sec. and a rising wave of 27.5 metres only
in catastrophic conditions – that is, when the landslide occurs in an exceptionally short time,
from 1 to 1.30 minutes. By just doubling this time the phenomenon is attenuated and we expect
an overflow below 14,000 cubic metres/sec. and a rising wave of 14 metres. Decreasing the initial
level of the reservoir, these effects of overflow and rising wave rapidly declined, and 700 metres
above sea level could already be considered to be of absolute safety with regard to even the most
catastrophic of the expected events.” Ghetti’s full report has been published by Zannolli (2013,
pp. 48–50).
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 29
Picture 4.
None of these measures avoided the catastrophe. As a matter of fact, with good
reason Semenza continued to feel uneasy. In a well recorded letter to his old master
Vincenzo Ferniani, dated April 21, 1961, he wrote: “After so many lucky works and
imposing constructions, I am facing something of such a size that it appears beyond
my control” (C. Semenza, 1961: 2).
Furthermore, Alberico Biadene (Semenza’s successor) made one further mis-
take, which should be clear to those who are acquainted with the philosophical
debate on the use of models in science. A model predicts on the basis of its own
assumptions, which do not necessarily comply with the factors and conditions oc-
curring in the actual situation. Drawing conclusions about real situations relying
on the results offered by a model is a risky business. Semenza’s successors showed
a lack of understanding of the logic of models. Biadene took the experiments car-
ried out by Ghetti at face value. To give an example, he did not consider that in
the model experimenters used gravels, which proved to be less compact than the
composition of the real landslide. So, the calculation of the speed of the landslide
proved inaccurate (unfortunately, the speed of the real landslide would be much
faster). 10 Biadene grasped the conclusion (until a height of 700 hundred metres
10. Ghetti himself warned that his results should not be taken at face value: “the final sentence
on safety level is like a foreign body in the context of the report. The experiments were conducted
with the original data provided by SADE, which do not adhere to reality” (quoted in Zanolli,
2013: 50).
30 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
there would be no danger), but not the process through which the conclusion was
achieved. Though Ghetti insisted on making more experiments, Biadene stopped
making use of the model’s results, and in the weeks before the disaster he even
decided to exceed the water safety level of the lake. 11
So, we come to the end of our analysis. The description of the two areas of
neglect sheds light on what ultimately went wrong in this dramatic episode. They
point out what was crucially missing from expert scientific judgement: an aware-
ness of the importance of local knowledge, in both above-mentioned meanings
(knowledge of local facts and knowledge of the locals). This lack of awareness led
scientists to make mistakes in the probability assignment, (they disregarded rele-
vant evidence) and in the moral consequences it implied, (what should have been
factored in while assessing the risk involved). Furthermore, the locals were ne-
glected as stakeholders, since they were never appropriately informed – let alone
consulted – about the impending risks.
Although we pitched our philosophical reconstruction at the level of Semenza’s
decision-making strategies, this should not lead us to believe that the Vajont disas-
ter comes down to one individual’s mistakes. Indeed, we should not disregard the
‘bigger picture’. Poor individual judgement is often the result of a ‘systemic failure’.
Put in these terms, understanding what went wrong in some individual instance
would lead us towards tracing the causal chain that ends in a disastrous outcome
not so much back to the individual, but to the structural failure of a system that
explains why the individual committed some error. Errors often occur within sys-
tems that are ill equipped (both theoretically and practically) for preventing them.
This is said not to abrogate individual responsibility but to put us in a position so
as to understand it better, both at individual and system level, and for acting on
those aspects of the system that allow for mistakes to emerge – as we will point out
in some concluding remarks.
The Vajont story is a story of huge gaps in communication among relevant areas of
expertise. Firstly, within geology. At the time, we have already mentioned, geology
11. It is interesting to mention here that Italian authorities were only partially informed about
the decisions being made, and the locals were completely left in the dark. The latter seemed to
be neglected twice – not only as contributors to the understanding of the geological features of
the area, but also as stakeholders, whose lives were at risk as a consequence of what knowledge
it was decided to take into account.
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 31
was not a paradigm. Geologists belonged to different schools and did not routinely
communicate much among each other. In his parliamentary report, MP Pietro
Vecellio mentioned the geologist Schnitter, who specifically raised this issue when
providing his explanation of the disaster. Vecellio (1965: 3) writes: “It is interesting
to note that Prof. Schnitter stresses that in the future the newly born science of
rock mechanics will have to develop alongside descriptive geology, which is now
considered in itself, insufficient when facing such complex situations.”
Secondly, there was a lack of communication between engineers and geologists.
Although they provide radically different accounts of the disaster, both Edoardo
Semenza (2001) and Paolini and Vacis (2013) notice how geologists were not suf-
ficiently consulted by engineers. In particular, Paolini and Vacis (2013) maintain
that engineers were so confident in their knowledge and expertise as to believe that
they were able to cope with any challenging situation without consulting others
(and indeed disagreements among geologists did not boost confidence in their
potential contribution).
Thirdly, there were huge information gaps between the scientific and local com-
munities. Locals were not involved, not listened to and not factored in when the
hypotheses and predictions of scientists were tested and assessed. The risks taken
by science were dealt with primarily in epistemic terms, and as if the epistemic can
take care not only of itself but also of the moral. Risks were not looked at as primarily
moral and the (degrees of) epistemic acceptance of a hypothesis as a consequence
of the moral nature of those risks. This inevitably led to a progressive detachment
of the local communities from the decision-making procedures of the scientists,
and to an increasing generalised distrust in the scientific community.
From within each of these domains of faulty communication it becomes un-
derstandable how a whole series of factors, considerations and pieces of evidence
(as partly exposed in this essay) were easily neglected or interpreted in inadequate
forms – gradually and inexorably leading to a catastrophe that still haunts and
shames the memory of a nation.
However, faulty communication is not only the making of individual or corpo-
rate neglect (more or less intentional). Especially in the case of the disconnection
between the locals and the communities of experts. What is missing is an appro-
priate framework of conditions and linguistic tools for communicating effectively
(Cf. Montuschi, 2011).
The difficulties of communication among different scientific communities and
different types of experts, have been widely studied in philosophy and the history
of science, and in science studies – starting, for example, from Galison (1997),
32 Pierluigi Barrotta and Eleonora Montuschi
who used the metaphor of a ‘trading zone’ 12 to explain how physicists belonging
to different paradigms managed to collaborate with each other and with engineers
to develop high-energy physics particle detectors and radars. Collins (Cf. Collins
and Evans, 2007) put forward the idea of an ‘interactional expert’, as someone who
can train in different disciplines and areas of expertise and who is able to exchange
information and communication with different experts.
These various views of how crucial communication and cooperation prove to
be among different knowledge bearers finally lead us to envisage the idea of a ‘com-
munity of inquirers’ that should allow, in cases like the Vajont disaster, to extend
membership to all stakeholders, including laypeople (Cf. Barrotta, 2016). Working
out the details and implications of this idea surely cannot be crammed into some
concluding remarks. Nonetheless, reference to the type of literature mentioned
above might be a suitable starting point to address, in a careful and considerate
manner, the strenuous problem of creating effective and collaborative communi-
cation between distant parties in a democratically conceived idea of public debate.
Acknowledgments
We thank the audience at the IASC conference ‘Science and Democracy’ (Pisa, 26–28 October
2017) for interesting questions and insight. Special thanks also go to Giulia Bossi (IRPI, Univer-
sity of Padua) for assistance with technical terminology.
References
Barrotta, P. (2016). Scienza e democrazia. Roma: Carocci. Eng. Trans. Scientists, Democracy, and
Society: A Community of Inquirers. Berlin and New York: Springer, forthcoming.
Betz, G. (2013). In Defence of the Value Free Ideal. European Journal for Philosophy of Science, 3,
207–220. doi: 10.1007/s13194-012-0062-x
Caloi, P. (1966). L’evento del Vajont nei suoi aspetti geodinamici. Annali di Geofisica. vol. 19, no. 1.
Carloni, G. C. (1995). Il Vaiont trent’anni dopo. Esperienza di un geologo. Bologna: Clueb.
Cartwright, N. (1999). The Dappled World. A Study of the Boundaries of Science. , Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press. doi: 10.1017/CBO9781139167093
12. Literally it points to the real situation in which different peoples are able to exchange goods,
despite differences in their language and their culture. In Galison’s own words: “Two groups can
agree on rules of exchange even if they ascribe utterly different significance to the objects being
exchanged; they may even disagree on the meaning of the exchange process itself. Nonetheless,
the trading partners can hammer out a local coordination, despite vast global differences”
Galison, 1997, p. 783.
Chapter 1. The dam project: Who are the experts? 33
Collins, H. & Evans, R. (2007). Rethinking Expertise. Chicago and London: The University of
Chicago Press. doi: 10.7208/chicago/9780226113623.001.0001
Galison, P. (1997). Image and Logic. A Material Culture of Microphysics. Chicago: The University
of Chicago Press.
Gervasoni, A. (1969). Il Vajont e le responsabilità dei manager. Milano: Bramante editrice.
Jeffrey, R. (1956). Valuation and Acceptance of Scientific Hypotheses. Philosophy of Science, 22,
197–217.
Merlin, T.. (1959). La SADE spadroneggia, L’Unità, May 5, also in http://tinamerlin.it/pubblicazioni/
articoli-di-tinamerlin/vajont/
Merlin, T. (2001). Sulla pelle viva. Come si costruisce una catastrofe. Il caso del Vajont, 4th ed.,
Verona: Cierre edizioni.
Montuschi, E.. (2011). Oggettività ed evidenza scientifica. Ricerca empirica, politiche sociali,
scienza responsabile. Roma: Carocci.
Müller, L. (1961). Rapporto geologico per conto della SADE, Documenti utilizzati dal 1° gruppo
di lavoro della Commissione. Senato Italiano (2003).
Paolini, M. & Vacis, G. (2013). Il racconto del Vajont. Nuova edizione con due saggi inediti. Milano:
Garzanti.
Rudner, R. (1953). The Scientist qua Scientist Makes Value Judgments. Philosophy of Science, 20,
1–6. doi: 10.1086/287231
Semenza, C. (1961). Lettera a Vincenzo Ferniani. Documentazione Tecnica, Senato Italiano (2003).
Semenza, E. & Giudici, F. (1960). Studio geologico sul serbatoio del Vajont, Documentazione
tecnica, Senato Italiano (2003).
Semenza, E. (2001). La storia del Vajont, raccontata dal geologo che ha scoperto la frana. Ferrara:
K-flash.
Senato Italiano (2003). Commissione parlamentare d’inchiesta sul Vajont. Archivio storico,
Soveria Mannelli: Rubettino.
Vecellio, P. (1965). Relazione su studi apparsi in pubblicazioni straniere dopo la sciagura del
Vajont. Documenti redatti dal 1° Gruppo di lavoro della Commissione, Senato Italiano (2003).
Wynne, B. (1996). May the Sheep Safely Graze? A Reflexive View of the Expert-Lay Knowledge
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London: Sage Publications.
Zanolli, R. (2013). Vajont. Cronaca di una tragedia annunciata, Vittorio Veneto: Dario De Bastiani
Editore.
Chapter 2
István Danka
Budapest University of Technology and Economics
The problem
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.04dan
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
36 István Danka
Standard responses
Before turning towards those questions, let us develop a model for cases when ex-
perts themselves disagree. It is certainly not a rare case, and can serve as a reason
why expert opinion is to be disregarded. If their expertise does not provide them
final evidence or sound reasoning for their decision, what makes them epistemically
superior to their peers in matters of their expertise? Even if superiority applies,
this is not relevant, or not sufficient, for making a univocal decision in question.
Nevertheless, if, as often, urgency is also involved in decision-making, it is also
irrational not to choose any of the options. Decision-makers sometimes simply
cannot wait until science decides what to do.
Disagreements are sometimes irresolvable. Irresolvability here does not neces-
sarily mean irresolvability in theory; practical irresolvability (due to limits in time,
resources, etc.) also counts. In irresolvable disagreements, pro and contra sides do
have (approx.) the same support: the same amount of evidence, equally strong ar-
guments, equal authoritative power due to experts standing behind the sides with
Chapter 2. Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 39
all their knowledge and competence to evaluate evidence and arguments. These
disagreements are (ideally) taken to be faultless: neither side is in fault because they
have done everything in their power to reach their conclusion, and there is simply
nothing further to do in order to make their point more reliable.
Assume, however, that their disagreement does not disappear after all consid-
erable effort. In such cases, three fundamental stances can be taken, all of them
seeming to be a matter of decision rather than expertise. Irresolvable or faultless
disagreements cannot be decided on the ground of evidence or reasoning about
the subject matter; how to take stance in them is subject to the evaluation of fault-
less disagreement situations. This requires a sort of expertise in decision theory,
collective epistemology or social psychology; i.e., expertise in a meta-theoretical
question of decisions under circumstances of this specific kind. This sort of exper-
tise cannot be expected from the participants themselves but only from the analyst
reconstructing the situation.
In the collective epistemology of disagreement, three directions have been de-
veloped as possible relations to faultless disagreement (for taxonomies, see esp.
Elga, 2010, Siegel, 2013 and Lalumera, 2015). First, the standard answer to group
decision in a disagreement (under idealised circumstances) is the Steadfast View
(van Inwagen, 1996, Kelly, 2005, Goldman, 2010). The Steadfast View claims that it
is irrational to give up one’s point if there are no decisive arguments to the contrary.
Reasons supporting this claim may differ from case to case and theory to theory; an
under-determination of available evidence as well as different epistemic standards
of acceptability can serve as possible grounds for faultless disagreement. Given that
experts in a faultless disagreement do not have decisive counter-arguments (that is
at least one reason why they have kept committed to that particular view), if they
take the Steadfast View to be a rational advice, disagreement will not disappear.
Furthermore, if the Steadfast View is right, it is rational that disagreement does not
disappear, given that both sides are faultless, having no decisive arguments against
their point (and still having good arguments and evidence supporting it).
A second option can be called as the Suspension View (Feldman, 2006,
Christensen, 2007, Kornblith, 2010). It says that in faultless disagreement, a sus-
pension of opposing views is the most rational choice. The reason behind this is
that if one, despite of all her expertise, cannot fully convince an epistemic peer of
hers that her point is right then there is no (available) conclusive argument for the
view she is supporting. Hence, in order for her not to commit to a position that
is not supported well enough, a suspension of her views is in order until better
support is found.
As can be seen, both views build on the lack of a sound argumentation for either
side; but while the Steadfast View is biased towards the position accepted earlier,
the Suspension View is biased against the view accepted. They take the question of
40 István Danka
a burden of proof differently, but they agree that a clear-cut stance must be taken
towards one’s original position. But while the Steadfast View also implies a response
to the original question, the Suspension View does not help in making decisions in
practice. For practical decisions, the Suspension View is inapplicable for obvious
reasons. Making a decision requires taking a stance; suspension may be good for
preparation but not for a decision. If a decision is urgent, it has to be made, regardless
of insufficient support for the side chosen.
Following the Steadfast View is not always a good option either as it cannot
be applied for expert-laypeople situations. As the differing options are supported
by experts (i.e., epistemic superiors of the decision-makers regarding the issue),
decision-makers are, prima facie at least, supposed to accommodate their views
to expert opinion. Suppose that some experts support the point a decision-maker
also holds. Regardless of counter-arguments, the Steadfast View suggests her to stay
committed to her point if there is faultless expert disagreement about the issue. But
this is what she would do if she disregarded expert opinion altogether.
The Suspension View has been further developed to a somewhat differ-
ent, third direction called as the Conciliatory View (Elga, 2010, Lackey, 2010,
Christensen-Lackey eds. 2013). A main reason behind conciliatorism is that
while the Steadfast View does not allow enough space for progressive ideas, the
Suspension View leads to an all-out scepticism regarding undecided questions that
is to be avoided (Christensen, 2009). Conciliatorists take the best solution to be
some sort of harmonisation between the extremes: if neither is supported by sound
argumentation, so they claim, the answer must be somewhere in between. For this,
probability calculations seem to serve the best solution; giving up a binary notion
of (dis)beliefs, conciliatorists develop on a Bayesian epistemology and consider
further relevant factors like the connectedness/isolatedness of beliefs to revise, the
number of peers evaluating evidence as having a further effect on probability, etc.
An important aspect disregarded by the Conciliatory View is that an evaluation
of reasons normally happens through an evaluation of inferential and/or dialectical
structures rather than an evaluation of probabilities of isolated pieces of reason-
ing. To put it simply, the Conciliatory View takes decision processes to be like
negotiations rather than argumentation (for the difference, see esp. Provis, 2004).
Argument evaluation requires a qualitative analysis of how reasons for a claim
can be inferentially connected to other reasons one still has accepted. Probability
calculations lack this characteristic, making decisions to be isolated and hence
purely opportunistic: for example, decision-makers are not required to satisfy a
coherence of reasoning (and hence a consistent moral character) if probability
is the main criterion in decision-making. If inferential and dialectical relations
among items of reasoning are important, a system of calculation and voting is to be
replaced with dialectics. While a probabilistic account can offer important insights
Chapter 2. Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 41
Increasing complexity I
they acknowledge that each other’s evidence, virtues and abilities are the same as
theirs; so they take each other to be equally qualified to make a competent decision
in questions covered by their shared expertise (or a lack of that).
This model, though widely accepted as a starting point (e.g. Kelly, 2005, Elgin,
2010, Lackey 2014), is overidealistic. It is subject to counter-arguments in each point:
a full equality of peers is unrealistic that cannot describe phenomena properly (Siegel,
2013). Siegel’s criticism shows that a refinement of the original model is in order.
As response to Siegel (2013)’s objections, a neutrality of expertise rather than
equality of peers can be introduced. Epistemic peers in this model are not consid-
ered as equals in epistemic terms; they do not (necessarily) share all evidence, and
they may differ in epistemic virtues and abilities. The only criterion to be applied
is their belief that their peers are equally competent, or if not, their competence is
irrelevant in their decision. This is a classical democratic model where experts do
not claim a right to have a greater voice in decisions relevant for their own field
insofar as the decision counts as a matter subject to a democratic decision of the
whole society. They offer their opinion as a possible reason for decision but they do
not claim their votes to count more than the vote of any layperson.
In this sense, a model of groups involving epistemically neutral rather than
epistemically equal peers requires considering arguments and reasons rather than
positions or votes to be summed up in order to have the best decision.
Under standard circumstances, democracies apply a somewhat different model,
having a space for public debates to discuss reasons and a separate space to make
individual decisions to vote. By this, reasons do not force a decision; aspects im-
portant for individual decision-makers but uncovered by expert debates can and
usually do appear in the outcome of decisions.
All the same, as is obvious from the above-mentioned, a sort of hierarchy in
expertise among group members is at least allowed in neutrality models, and their
introduction seems to be unavoidable anyway. The reason is not only that groups in
real life are always heterogeneous regarding expertise, but also that difference in a
level of expertise is relevant for making rational decisions. The more expertise one
has regarding the issue, the higher is the probability that she makes a well-grounded
decision. So the model should reflect on the matter of expertise, also taking into
account that it is context-dependent as no general expertise can be provided that is
applicable to all possible fields. For a rational group decision, expertise is of central
importance if careful consideration is taken to be a guiding principle in decisions: a
collective decision can be better than an individual decision precisely on the ground
that different aspects of the problem can be taken into consideration from different
angles by different evaluation methods.
The ideal would be if an aggregation of reasons and an aggregation of decisions
would result in the same group decision. Harmonising members’ reasons with their
Chapter 2. Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 43
decisions in a collective framework can be a possible solution, so that the two oper-
ational order would result in the same outcome. A possibility to harmonise reasons
and decisions is a dialectical exchange of reasons in order for the individuals to
convince each other rather than simply voting in a dialectical vacuum.
Increasing complexity II
What has been mentioned above implies a revision of how group decisions are to
be made. Normally, models of group decisions build on the idea of a democratic
voting. What shall be offered here instead is an idea of a (no less democratic) debate
where reasons rather than positions count.
In this respect, two approaches to collective decisions can be taken. They are to
be called as the Summative View and the Totality View respectively. The first takes
group decisions to be analysed as an aggregation of votes of members (see esp.
Lackey ed. 2014). The second, an approach which is rather disregarded in contem-
porary debates, takes the group to be a separate agent, making its own decisions,
and even though its decision is intimately related to the decisions of its members,
their relation cannot be grasped by a single aggregation.
Chapter 2. Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 45
The three criteria of intellectual virtuosity in a debate sets up three means and
three ends of the debate. The ends as idealised goals of virtuous arguers are as
follows. An epistemic goal of a debate is accessing truth (about a matter); it is
driven by scientific inquiry as means. A dialectical aim is a resolution of dispute;
its corresponding means is following rules of logic and dialectics. A rhetorical aim
is winning the debate; the means leading towards it is exploring persuasive possi-
bilities available for the arguer.
These three aims, and the three means leading towards them, determine pos-
sible moves of intellectually virtuous arguers within a dialectical space of a debate.
The argumentative moves must lead towards these ends as the debate progresses.
As said, in order to aim at these different ends, different sorts of means are to
be applied. Conforming to the normativity of these means define rational moves
within the debate. Rationality is taken to be normative in this sense: if something
is rational to do under some circumstances, it ought to be done under all relevantly
similar circumstances.
The three above-mentioned means-end structures imply three different no-
tions of rationality. Since each is normative, each implies their corresponding
ought-claims. They can, however, and in some systematically classifiable cases they
also necessary are, in a conflict with each other. If so, following norms implied by
one sense of rationality will necessarily result in breaking norms implied by another
sense of rationality. This makes decisions in such cases necessarily irrational in
one sense or the other. This is, however, no excuse for irrational decision-makers,
insofar as there is some sort of hierarchy among different senses of rationality, and
it is required from decision-makers to always break lower-level rationality rather
than higher-level rationality. Winning a debate is inferior to reach an agreement,
and reaching an agreement is inferior to truth. Though the relations among these
three elements are much more complex, as an abstract guide, this simplification is
mostly worth to be followed. But precisely this complexity implies that no general
rule can be provided for a priority of these aspects. In the case of conflicting pieces
of rational advice applicable to a situation, it is not a matter of expertise but a matter
of decision (or, ideally, argument evaluation) which option to be chosen.
Rationality is to be understood here in three separate but related senses. The
first may be called, following the above-suggested terminology, as epistemic (or
inquiry-driven) rationality: a norm of doing x in order to have an access to truth.
The second may be called as dialectical (or rule-following) rationality: doing x in
order to be consistent with the rules of elementary logic and dialectics of a debate.
The third may be called as rhetorical (or instrumental) rationality: doing x in order
to satisfy the arguer’s self-interest (i.e., winning the debate).
Different criteria of rationality sometimes support each other, but sometimes
they are in a conflict. Keeping committed to dialectical rules is sometimes the
Chapter 2. Rational decisions in a disagreement with experts 49
best available way to reach truth because a wide agreement is, though possible but
hardly accessible about falsities. But in some cases (namely, in the case of faultless
disagreements), truth is inaccessible via a resolution of dispute because a resolution
itself is also inaccessible. Even in such cases, one of the mutually exclusive options
is nonetheless true insofar as realism about truth is accepted; disregarding dialec-
tical rules aiming at an agreement and being steadfast may sometimes be a better
strategy to maintain truth than aiming at a conciliation.
Epistemic and rhetorical aims can also be in a conflict; in fact, in all controver-
sies, at least one participant’s rhetorical aim (winning the debate) is in a conflict
with truth, as two conflicting views cannot be true at the same time. Rhetorical aims
are also often in a conflict with dialectical rules, as holders of two conflicting views
cannot win the debate at the same time either. But ideally, one of the positions is true
and supportable by appropriate arguments, so in ideal debates, one of the intellec-
tually virtuous arguers can reach all three goals of theirs: accessing truth, reaching
an agreement, and winning the debate. But needless to say, it is the exception rather
than the rule that it happens (Goodwin, 2007).
Conclusion
I have argued that disregarding expert opinion in public decisions is not neces-
sarily irrational. There are at least three senses of rationality applicable to public
debates, and they are often in a conflict; following rationality in one sense often
implies being irrational in another. Furthermore, even though a priority among
these senses of rationality can be provided, it cannot be applied to each individual
decision, because priority among rational choices is not a matter of expertise but
that of a decision.
Relevant aspects of rationality cannot be grasped, however, in recently devel-
oped frameworks of collective epistemology as these frameworks disregard two
important aspects of group decisions: expertise on one hand, and dialectics on
the other. This paper has intended to open up new directions for existing models
towards these topics. It seems that these extensions cannot provide a final answer
to the question raised in this paper. A dialectical approach can, however, either
offer guides for a good decision, or at least explain why there is not one single good
choice. What decision-makers are expected to do in the latter case is subject to a
further extension of the model.
50 István Danka
Acknowledgments
This paper builds on two presentations of mine, one held at the Decision, Rational and Joint Ac-
tion conference (Budapest, Hungary, 14–15th of April, 2016), the other held at the IASC Science
and Democracy: Controversies and Conficts conference (Pisa, Italy, 26–28th of October 2016). I
am grateful for the organisers and participants of both events, and Ákos Gyarmathy in particu-
lar, for their valuable comments and inspiration. Research leading to this paper was supported
by the Hungarian National Research Fund (OTKA K-109456, OTKA K-116191).
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Chapter 3
Roberto Gronda
University of Pisa
Recent times have witnessed that democracy and science may easily be in
conflict. The goal of the paper is to reframe the issue of the relations between
democracy and science in a way that makes it possible to preserve the distinc-
tion between the two, while rejecting the pessimistic view that their conflict is
harmful. To achieve this goal, I will refine Dewey’s concept of public so as to
develop a semantic interpretation of it grounded on the notion of articulation.
My proposal is to conceive of the public as a logical space not reducible to that of
science, in which the truths discovered by scientists are renegotiated through a
process of interaction between the experts and the citizens.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.05gro
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
54 Roberto Gronda
republican principle that everybody can recognize herself in the laws that rule the
community to which she belongs. In addition, democracy and science are governed
by different logics, with different relations to time: indeed, there are temporal con-
straints that limit democratic deliberation, which do not affect scientific investiga-
tion. One of the consequences of the institution of laboratory life is the creation of
a protected environment in which the demands of practice are somehow suspended
or sublimated. Now, it is clear that, being a form of life, laboratory life cannot be
entirely subtracted from the imbroglio that characterizes everyday transactions with
the social milieu. In their seminal book, Latour and Woolgar have insisted precisely
on this point, stressing the fact that the production of scientific truths is part of an
‘earthly’ and extremely concrete set of actions and practices (Latour and Woolgar,
1979). Yet, all these qualifications notwithstanding, it remains true that the image of
science that most scientists and philosophers of science hold is centered around the
idea of a fallible, revisable and progressive activity of refinement of a certain body of
propositions. Suspension of judgment and delay of decision have therefore different
meanings in democratic and scientific practice: in both cases they are legitimate
moves, but while in the latter they are part of the process of construction – or con-
firmation – of truths, in the former they amount to a sort of rejection of the plans
of action under examination. Put in more pragmatist terms, doubt arises when
belief cannot lead action anymore. In the light of what we have just said, we can
well state that scientific doubt is different from democratic doubt because of their
different ways of blocking action. Peirce was well aware of the difference between
the two, and he tried to avoid possible confusion by stressing the distinction in his
Cambridge Conferences (Peirce, 1992). 1
Accordingly, it is a fact that democracy and science, people and experts, are of-
ten in conflict. Any a priori warrant of their agreement is therefore to be discarded,
and their recomposition is to be achieved on a local basis, from time to time. Now,
I believe that a complication of the theoretical landscape is most welcome. It is
true that such complication knocks out, so to say, all the attempts to get rid of the
conflict between science and democracy by defusing – through essentialist and
once-and-for-all arguments – their alterity. However, the challenge that it raises
to philosophical thought is liberatory since it helps us to free ourselves from the
temptation to take theoretical shortcuts, and to radically reframe the way in which
we think their relation. It compels us to reach a higher level of reflexivity.
In the present essay my aim is to bring pragmatism to that higher level of reflex-
ivity. Among the many traditions of thought that attempted to solve the conflictual
tension between science and democracy, pragmatism is probably the most nuanced
and refined in that it does not embrace any reductionist strategy. Pragmatism,
especially John Dewey’s version, was confident that democratic deliberation could
take the form of a scientific (intelligent) process of inquiry. Dewey believed that the
task of philosophy was to broaden the scope of inquiry so as to cover moral and
political subject matters, thus breaking them free from the hold of passions and
tradition. He did not believe, however, that the difference between democracy and
science should be completely erased or denied. Dewey’s scientification of morals
and politics consists in the extension of the scientific method – though it would be
better to say ‘scientific attitude’ – to the analysis of human affairs; it does not amount
to the idea that the solution of human problems should be delegated to groups of
experts who know better than lay people what should be done. The problem that
haunted Dewey throughout his whole life was how to discover educational practices
that enabled citizens to learn how to participate in an intelligent way in the process
of problem solving.
Dewey’s social philosophy has often been charged with being too optimistic,
mainly because of its faith in the possibility of transforming democracy in a com-
munity of inquirers. Nonetheless, I believe that Deweyan pragmatism has the the-
oretical resources to provide the means to develop a consistent theory of expertise
that could pave the way for a different way of framing the relation between science
and democracy. The key notion here is that of public, as sketched by Dewey in his
The Public and Its Problems (1927).
Obviously, classical pragmatism being a late nineteenth-century philosophical
tradition which originated in a different, and less refined, academic milieu, it has
to be radically renewed and reshaped. In particular, Dewey was not clear about
the composition of the public and the role that experts play in it. 2 In this paper I
will suggest that technical democracy – with its emphasis on the ideas of hybrid
forum, research in the wild and co-production of science and society – may be
helpful to correct and integrate Dewey’s conception of public, so as to transform
it into a viable theoretical option suited to define what an expert is. To avoid any
possible confusion, it should be borne in mind, while reading this essay, that my
account of expertise is an idealization of the different factors involved in the process
of technical decision-making; 3 it does not purport to be a descriptive analysis of
2. For an interesting and well-documented analysis of this issue, see (Brown, 2009: 44–83).
3. For a definition of the notion of ‘technical decision-making’, see Collins and Evans
(2002: 236):“By ‘technical decision-making’ we mean decision-making at those points where
science and technology intersect with the political domain because the issues are of visible rele-
vance to the public: should you eat British beef, prefer nuclear power to coal-fired power stations,
want a quarry in your village, accept the safety of anti-misting kerosene as an airplane fuel, vote
for politicians who believe in human cloning, support the Kyoto agreement, and so forth. These
are areas where both the public and the scientific and technical community have contributions
to make to what might once have been thought to be purely technical issues.”
56 Roberto Gronda
Inspired by the reading of Walter Lippmann’s Public Opinion (1922) and The
Phantom Public (1925), in 1927 Dewey published his first book on political phi-
losophy, The Public and its Problems. His aim was to defuse the threat posed by
Lippman, who had argued that in modern times participatory democracy was
impossible. Participatory democracy rests on the assumption that citizens are ca-
pable of forming a reliable opinion on political issues. Yet, because of the growing
influence of mass media on society, public opinion is perverted, and people act
according to what they are made to believe to be real. The only available solution to
this predicament is to delegate decisions to groups of experts and decision-makers
who know how reality actually works and, consequently, know how to transform
it so as to conform to our desires and hopes.
Dewey immediately felt that Lippmann had hit a major point. Dewey was well
aware that democracy was on the verge of transforming into something else: he
was no less worried than Lippmann about the effects of propaganda on American
society. 4 Nonetheless, he thought that Lippmann’s solution was too simplistic. It
is true that experts are in charge of producing knowledge, and that for a political
deliberation to be rational and effective it has to be directed and constrained by
scientific truths – or, at least, by what is held by a consistent part of the scientific
community to be the most accurate descriptions of objective reality. However, this
does not amount to a denial of the possibility of a genuine – which means, not
perverted by propaganda and mass media – public opinion.
The conceptual tool that Dewey forged in order to answer to Lippmann’s crit-
icisms was his functional theory of public. Dewey’s line of argumentation is rather
simple: the only possible way in which public deliberation can be saved from the
tyranny of experts is by acknowledging that people know better than the experts
what they want, what they feel, and what they are going through. As Dewey sum-
marizes this point, even though the shoemaker is the best judge of how to remedy
the shoe pinching the foot, the man who wears the shoe knows better than anyone
else that it pinches and where it pinches. This means that public opinion cannot be
erased from public deliberation, both because it represents the starting point of the
process of inquiry and because it sets the criteria and standards for the activities of
experts and decision-makers.
But how is this possible? What are the assumptions that lie behind the idea of
the centrality of the public in the process of technical decision-making? And who or
what is the public? Dewey tackled all these issues from a radical perspective which
refuses to take the public as a fixed entity. According to this approach, the public is
not a thing but rather a function: “the public”, he wrote, “consists of all those who
are affected by the indirect consequences of transactions to such an extent that is
deemed necessary to have those consequences systematically cared for” (LW2: 245).
The key notion here is that of indirect consequences. Dewey distinguishes be-
tween the consequences of an action which affect only those who participate in it
and those that have effects on other people who do not share any responsibility for
that action. In some particular cases, the indirect consequences of an action may be
harmful (actually or potentially) to a certain group of people. So, for instance, a firm
may decide to build a dam which would dramatically change the natural and social
environment of the community living in that area. The effects of that action are there-
fore in no way restricted to the economical and juridical transactions between the
firm and the owners of the parcels of land that have to be bought to build the dam.
The transactions between the firm and the owners belong to the category of ‘direct
consequences’. Beyond these consequences, there are many other effects that affect
the life of the community. These are the indirect consequences of those transactions.
In cases like this, if the members of a group – which, at this level of development, can
be named ‘group’ only proleptically since a group has not been formed yet, properly
speaking – perceive that those consequences may have some effects on their lives,
and accordingly organize themselves as a unity of inquiry, they constitute a public.5
5. Here a word may be needed in order to avoid a possible misunderstanding. As I read him,
Dewey does not maintain that the public should be conceived exclusively as a cognitive agent.
It may well be that other relevant features of the public exist that do not belong to the cognitive
dimension – think, for instance, of the use of religion or mythological images to create bonds
within a community. A complete theory of the public should therefore take all these different
aspects into account.
58 Roberto Gronda
The public is therefore a functional entity that originates from a cognitive act of
apprehension of the possible effects of a certain set of actions. It is their perception
of the relevance of those effects that gives birth to a new kind of issues, namely
public or political issues. In doing so, by insisting on the importance of cognitive
mediation for the constitution of the public, Dewey avoids the Scylla of ‘determin-
istic’ realism and the Charybdis of extreme relativism. The public is not necessarily
determined by the consequences of a certain action. It may well be that a group does
not perceive the consequences of an action to be potentially or actually harmful to
the life of its members or to their well-being; in this case, the public simply does not
arise. At the same time, however, the consequences that a certain group of people
may come to perceive as harmful, thereby constituting a public, are grounded on
the objective conditions of the social and natural world. Such relation of ‘ground-
ing’ excludes any conversational – à la Rorty – or relativistic approach according
to which public issues are just a matter of imagination, deception, illusion or fancy.
Stated in a more technical way, I would say that the public is an articulative
function, in that it articulates – from its particular perspective point – some factors
actually existing and operating in the world. In the pragmatist perspective that I
endorse, to articulate means to express in a different medium – no matter whether it
be linguistic or material, as in the case of technological artifacts – some aspect that
is effective in a certain practice.6 As I read it, the goal of The Public and Its Problems
is to show that the public is an autonomous articulative agency, where ‘autonomous’
here means that the articulative process which defines and constitutes the public
qua public cannot be boiled down to those of other articulative agencies such as,
for instance, social sciences or the perspectives and interests of the agents directly
involved in the course of action. This is an important point which we will come
back to in the last section of the essay.
As should be evident now, Dewey’s functional account of the public has many
points of strength. Not only does it provide an account of the genesis of the public; it
also clarifies the factors that operate in such a process of constitution, and indicates
how they should be understood. It has, however, some remarkable weaknesses. We
may divide them into three broad classes. Some of its weaknesses depend on an
insufficient analysis of the features of the factors involved: as is typical with Dewey,
he was more concerned with painting the theoretical landscape with a broad brush
than with a clear and detailed description of the particular elements that make up
the whole scenario. Another class of weaknesses is strictly related to some ambi-
guities connected to Dewey’s functional vocabulary. Still other weaknesses are a
direct consequence of the time in which Dewey wrote The Public and Its Problems:
indeed, many of the problems that we are facing now – think, for instance, of the
7. The point is that, in Dewey’s hands, the notion of public becomes a tool to account for the
nature and logical origin of the State. If taken in a narrow sense, it is evident that a genuine plu-
rality of publics is somehow impeded by the fact that to a public corresponds one and only one
State. However, Dewey is quite explicit that the State too should be defined in functional terms. In
this sense, the possibility of a plurality of publics is preserved. As often with Dewey, it would have
been better if he had chosen a different vocabulary to convey his views, so as to avoid unhappy
terminological confusions.
60 Roberto Gronda
dimension of human experience.8As has been remarked above, the public is first
and foremost an articulative agency: through the articulation of the potentialities
of the situation, the meaning of the latter is made explicit and available for fur-
ther reflection and analysis.9 Put in different terms, the public is an autonomous
dimension of reality that provides a clarification of the meaning of the indirect
consequences from which it has originated. Such conclusion follows directly from
the pragmatist theory of meaning, according to which the meaning of a thing or a
concept is the set of the conceivable consequences that a certain thing or concept
may possibly generate. This means that because of its entering into new relations,
the object acquires new meanings and, consequently, undertakes a process of re-
definition. So, for instance, the implicit public meaning of the private transactions
between the firm planning to build a dam and the owners of the parcels of land
on which the dam would be built is made explicit and articulated for the first time
when the public perceives the indirect consequence of that action.
This particular form of semantic emergentism – which is, at least in my view, the
conceptual kernel of Dewey’s theory of public – lies at the basis of the pragmatist
conception of expertise that I will lay out in the next two sections.
Now that Dewey’s conception of public has been roughly sketched, let’s go back to
our starting point – that is, the process of technical decision-making. The question
here at stake is that of understanding whether and how experts and citizens can
cooperate toward the production of a rational solution to a technical problem – that
is, a public problem which is characterized by the presence of a scientific element
amongst its defining factors. Because of the growing complexity of natural and
social environments, almost all the problems that a society, through its represent-
atives, is asked to face are technical in nature. Economical, environmental, health
issues – to name only the most relevant ones – are all strictly dependent, for their
solution, on the best scientific knowledge available.
8. In this essay, I will use the term semantic to label everything which is related to meaning.
Such choice may seem awkward since that term is usually employed in a different sense. However,
I think that, there are some theoretical advantages in using semantic in this way. In particular,
it highlights the primacy of meaning over our cognition of it. This is strictly related to Dewey’s
anti-subjectivism. For a further clarification of this point, see Section 2 below.
9. In a pragmatist framework, potentialities are different from possibilities because while the
latter belong to the realm of logical conceivability, the former are actual forces that act in reality,
even though only in an implicit and undeveloped manner. For an analysis of this notion of po-
tentiality, see Gronda (2015b).
Chapter 3. Rethinking the notion of public 61
One traditional answer to that question is to say that for a technical decision
to be truly rational, decision makers should rely on the body of knowledge pro-
vided by scientists. The rationale behind this view is that scientists are in charge
of telling what there really is in the world, what is going on out there, so to say;
indeed, being ignorant about matters of fact, citizens are in a sort of defective
position for what concerns the production of knowledge. In this sense, democ-
racy – here conceived not as a particular form of government, but rather as the
ultimate source of values that govern the choices that a community makes10 – is
cognitively irrelevant: its task is rather to establish the ends to be reached by ap-
plying scientific knowledge. According to this view, science is deputed to assess
what is real, while democracy is deputed, through its organs, to set the goals and
to find the best way to achieve them.
There are some theoretical advantages with this account of the differences
between science and democracy. First of all, it seems to conform well to our
common-sense intuitions about the relations that hold between them. Secondly,
it preserves their distinction, thus escaping scientism or reductionism, on the one
side, and anti-scientism or populism, on the other. Thirdly, it avoids reductionism
without implying any ascription of cognitive relevance to democracy: the legitimate
space of democracy is that of decision, not that of knowledge-production.
That account of the relation between science and democracy – conceived as
ideal types, in the sense specified above – is therefore modeled on the dichotomy
between facts and values. As is well known, pragmatism has traditionally been
critical of any dualism, the dichotomy between facts and values being one of its
favorite targets. In the present context I will expand on that idea, showing that the
pragmatist suspicion of this bunch of dichotomies paves the way for a different ac-
count of the role of experts and citizens in the process of production of knowledge.
My thesis is that it is wrong to assume that the conflict between science and
democracy can be solved by distinguishing their reciprocal fields of pertinence.
The point that I would like to call into question is therefore the view that science –
that is, groups of experts – is in charge of the production of the factual knowledge,
while democracy – that is, groups of citizens – is the only legitimate source of
moral authority. I hold, on the contrary, that groups of citizens can actively and
effectively participate in knowledge production processes. Some studies have been
done to illustrate actual cases of fruitful interaction between experts and groups of
citizens – arguably, the most famous example of that trend of research is Epstein
(1995). I will take a different approach, which will end in a substantial redefinition
10. This is the way in which Deweyan pragmatism has usually conceived democracy. According
to Dewey, democracy is not a form of government, but rather a form of life. On this point, see
Frega (2017).
62 Roberto Gronda
of the terms of the question. The argument that I am going to present is a priori,
as it derives the possibility of such a fruitful interaction from the ontological con-
stitution of the public.
In order to prove that, I will adopt a constructivist perspective, proceeding
from the simplest to the most complicated. I assume that, in the case of technical
decision, scientific facts are structurally and ontologically simpler than those issues
that are to be settled through processes of technical decision making – issues that,
by definition, have as one of their constitutive features those very scientific facts.
Take a scientific fact like GMOs, for instance. 11 Science tells us what GMOs are,
how they can be produced, what their pros and cons are, what their impact on the
environment (social and natural) is. If we are ready to accept a distinction between
essential and accidental properties of a thing, we could say that science provides us
with all the relevant factual knowledge about GMOs. So, there is a sense in which
it seems plausible to state that science tells everything one has to know about an
object. If the scientific description of GMOs were complete, one would be tempted
to say, nothing else remains to be known.
However, if we move from here, from the level of scientific knowledge, to the
public context in which scientific knowledge has to be applied, things change dra-
matically. The point is that, by entering into new relations with other objects, sci-
entific facts acquire new meanings that are irreducible to those of origin. When it
comes down to deciding whether or not to allow the use of GMOs in agriculture,
for instance, GMOs enter in a wide and thick net of relations with social actors
(farmers, landowners, producers of agricultural machines and equipment, and so
on), economical agents, political and social organizations (political parties, trade
unions, lobbies) and many other agencies – for example, cultural associations for
the preservation or restoration of the landscape. They also enter into relation with
the particular constitution of the soil, as well as with the climate of the region
and the possible effects on the behavior of the species living in it. As Wynne has
convincingly shown (Wynne, 1996), these aspects of the whole situation are better
known by people living and working in the area than by scientists and experts. In
all those cases in which the features of a specific context are factors influencing the
elements of the problem at stake, local knowledge is likely to be more effective and
reliable than scientific knowledge. The point that I would like to stress is that this
is possible not because scientific knowledge is somehow defective or biased, but
because local and scientific knowledge have different objects.
11. It may be argued that this example is badly chosen since GMOs are technical products rather
than scientific facts. I do not think this remark hits a point. It relies on an image of science which
is deeply anachronistic, as if it were possible now, in the epoch of technoscience, to clearly dis-
tinguish between pure and applied sciences. Is the study of the human genome pure or applied
science? I am indebted to Pierluigi Barrotta for calling my attention to this point.
Chapter 3. Rethinking the notion of public 63
The latter remark lies at the basis of my pragmatist ontology of the public. The
grounding idea is that public issues cannot be boiled down to scientific issues be-
cause the former are much more complex objects than the latter, being constituted
by all the relations that scientific facts entertain with relevant aspects of social re-
ality, the criteria of relevance being obviously contingent and contextual. If we use
Dewey’s terminology, we could say that the relations that a certain thing entertains
in a laboratory context are its direct consequences – as a scientific entity – while
its relations with social and political affairs amount to its indirect consequences.
This account is backed by the pragmatist conception of scientific objects, which is
in its turn grounded on the pragmatist theory of meaning. According to this view,
scientific objects are idealizations defined by the operations that can be performed
on them in a laboratory – no matter whether real or imaginary, as in the case of
mathematics. An object being defined – at least for what concerns its cognitive
import (remember that the pragmatic maxim was originally conceived as a tool
for the clarification of the meaning of scientific concepts) – by the consequences
that follow from the operations performed on it, its semantic nature undergoes a
change when it is taken from the aseptic laboratory environment and brought to
open air. Clearly, there is a continuity between the scientific object and the public
object of which the former is one of its constitutive elements. It is such continuity
that allows us to say that scientific knowledge grounds, and puts constraints on,
technical decision. But continuity does not mean identity: scientific and public is-
sues are indeed essentially different. I argue that the irreducible difference between
the two is what makes it possible for the public to be an autonomus cognitive agent
capable of yielding new knowledge.
The point is that if we assume that experts and citizens are concerned with
the same object, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that democratic delibera-
tion is only a second-best option: laypersons will always be less competent than
the experts – no matter how much expert knowledge is communicated to them
by newspapers and information media – and their judgments and decisions will
always be less accurate than those made by the latter. On the contrary, if experts
and citizens are concerned with different objects, then it is possible to conclude
that the public is an autonomous cognitive agent, and that it is the sole possible
‘knower’ of the public issue. Such conclusion follows directly from the Kantian idea
that subject and object are mutually interdependent: since the object – as far as its
cognitive content is concerned – is not a thing-in-itself, but coincides with the con-
cept of that object, it is clear that the object is necessarily the object-of-a-subject.
The other side of the relation – the subject being the subject-of-an-object – is
made clear when we accept the pragmatist view that the subject is not an entity
but rather a function which originates from, and within, a problematic situation
and whose goal consists in developing an intelligent solution of the issue of stake.
64 Roberto Gronda
Even though one may question the general idea, this is surely the case with the
public, as it has been defined above.
Reflexivity provides the clearest example of the essential interdependence of
subject and object in the case of the public. With reflexivity I mean the fact that
actors can take the content of a theory as one of the elements that influence their
future actions. Accordingly, the ‘representation’ of reality that an agent articulates
in order to cope with the world transforms the nature of reality with which she is
concerned, since it introduces a new factor into the general problem, a factor that
was not present when the representation was made.12 Now, the (specific) object that
the (specific) public has to address – what I have called ‘the public issue’ – is con-
stituted by the perception of the consequences of a certain set of actions or facts –
in the case under consideration, of the possible consequences of a scientific fact
(broadly conceived) on the public itself. So, it is clear that the process of meaning
clarification that constitutes the life of a public is a process of mutual construction
of subjectivity (as a function of problem-solving) and objectivity (as the conceptual
content of the problem at stake, which establishes the conditions that have to be met
by the action). Through the growing understanding of the possible reactions of its
members to the transformations brought by scientific facts, the public structures
itself as well as its object.
Reflexivity is not only an ontological category; it provides also a proof of the
autonomy of the public as a cognitive agent. This because it seems plausible to argue
that nobody knows better than the agent what she is going to do. So, if this corollary
of the idea of autonomy is correct, we can conclude that nobody knows – which
means, no group of expert can know – better than the public how the latter will act
to solve the public issue that calls for its existence. And since the actions and plans
of the public are definitory of the public issue at stake, the autonomy of the public
as cognitive agent is grounded on its very ontology. The public issue in its whole
complexity is accessible only to the public that constitutes it.
There is another argument that supports – even though in a slightly different
manner – the idea of the cognitive autonomy of the public. While the argument
from reflexivity points to a somehow constitutive condition of possibility of knowl-
edge (and reality) – and in this sense it is an ontological argument, ontology being
conceived here in a pragmatist way – this second argument is an argument from
prudence. It is therefore less compelling than the first one, even though I think
that it lends some confirmation to that idea, especially if one is willing to endorse
a fallibilistic account of reason which acknowledges its limits as its distinctive char-
acter. This second argument is related to the principle of radical uncertainty, which
12. This is related to the idea of transaction as defined by Dewey and Bentley (1949). For an
interesting analysis of the application of that idea to philosophy of science, see Barrotta (2016).
Chapter 3. Rethinking the notion of public 65
reminds us that the complexity of a technical decision is so high that is not possible
to predict with certainty which consequences will follow from a certain action.
This argument is directed against a possible objection that can be raised by
the defenders of a strong scientism. According to this view, science can provide,
at least in principle, adequate knowledge of all the forces at play in the situation,
including the intentions of the actors that compound the public. If this were true,
the cognitive autonomy of the public would be strongly challenged: indeed, it would
be possible to restate the identity of the subject matter of science and public delib-
eration, and consequently the primacy of the former over the latter. I do not think
that that objection can be easily addressed; on the contrary, I do not think it can be
conclusively defused. It is always possible, against all possible counterarguments,
to stick to the idea that science has the theoretical resources to provide a complete
representation of reality: at the end of the day, that objection is an ‘in principle’
objection that cannot be falsified by single, specific counterexamples.
This objection is rather complex. There are at least two different aspects that are
involved in the argument: on the one hand, the fact that it is not possible to forecast
all the consequences of a possible action because of the indefinite richness of the
effects that it may bring about; on the other hand, the fact – related to the principle
of reflexivity – that the members of the public are factors that influence the course of
the action. Let’s start from the second point. In this form, the objection amounts to
saying that social sciences can offer a faithful and satisfactory account of the inten-
tions of the actors. In my view, this objection relies on a troublesome assumption;
that is, that intentions of the agents that constitute the public are there and remain
unchanged and unmodified from the beginning to the end of the whole articulative
process of deliberation. That assumption is therefore grounded on the adoption of a
mentalistic vocabulary, according to which the most accurate description of action
is in terms of mental states.
It is that vocabulary that pragmatists suggest we call into question: 13 pragma-
tists work from a different theoretical perspective, assuming (a) that temporality is
the distinctive dimension of experience, (b) that time affects and changes meaning,
so that things undergo a constant process of transformation and redefinition, and
(c) that mental states are, at best, useful abstractions from a more complex situation
which encompasses both the subject and the object. From a pragmatist point of
view, mental states are not there from the very beginning since there are no mental
states at all. From a descriptive point of view, what we have is an organism – or
a group of organisms – which interacts with an environment that is laden with
meanings, meanings cutting across the distinction between mental and physical.
13. Things are more complicated than that. Even within the pragmatist tradition there are ap-
proaches more mentalistically oriented. For a lucid analysis of this point, see Levi (2010).
66 Roberto Gronda
In the previous section I have outlined what I have called a pragmatist ontology of
the public. The goal of that section was to argue for the cognitive autonomy of the
public as a function of reorganization and reconstruction of problematic situations,
called public issues. However, no attempt has been made to clarify the internal
composition of the public. In particular, the question about the role of experts in
this scenario has not been addressed so far. This section will be devoted to tackle
precisely this issue, starting from a terminological clarification.
First of all, it is important to avoid a possible misunderstanding. Contrary to
Dewey, with ‘public’ I do not mean to refer to the group of citizens that are affected
by the indirect consequences of a certain action. Clearly, that group is part of the
Chapter 3. Rethinking the notion of public 67
public, but it does not coincide with it. Experts too are part of it. In the account
of the relation between science and democracy that I propose, the public encom-
passes citizens and experts, lay and expert knowledge, the democratic process of
legitimation of the ends to pursue and the process of knowledge production which
provides the criteria to assess the validity of those ends, as well as the means to
achieve them. This is not only because, in the case of technical decision, scientific
knowledge is necessary to clarify and make the course of action intelligent. This
remark is trivially true, unless one is willing to reject completely the very idea of
expertise; consequently, it is useless for our purposes. Something more should be
said, therefore, to prove the validity of that approach.
To do that we should take the idea of the cognitive autonomy of the public
seriously. As has been remarked above, the autonomy of the public is grounded
on the fact that public issues are constitutively different from – and more complex
than – scientific issues. Their difference also consists in that public issues concern
specific and individual situations; when a public is asked to deliberate, it deliberates
on a specific issue, temporally and spatially located. It does not aim to discover
universal laws or general regularities of natural and social events. This means that
the public cannot perform that act of idealization which lies at the basis of scien-
tific objectivity: things are to be taken in their concrete reality, with no possibility
to escape their messy complexity. This is another way to express the idea that the
public is concerned with the indirect consequences of a scientific fact: it is those
consequences that define the singularity of a technical decision. Stated in other
terms, it is those consequences that make it possible for a scientific fact to pass
from the realm of abstraction and idealization to the dimension of concreteness.
The public is a process of articulation of meanings. What is important to remark
is that the process of meaning articulation does not leave the ‘original meanings’ un-
touched. Scientific facts are transformed – more prudently, may be transformed –
by taking part in this process. Contexts are not neutral to the life of meaning:
what is true in a laboratory context may reveal itself to be inadequate when doing
research in the wild, asking for a further refinement. Indirect consequences retro-
act on direct consequences. Such process of retroaction – strangely neglected by
Dewey in The Public and Its Problems – clarifies why experts are a constitutive part
of the public. The process of articulation that scientific facts undergo when used
in a technical decision is something which may affect them, thus setting the stage
for further scientific research. 14 Accordingly, scientists could legitimately say “res
nostra agitur” when scientific knowledge comes to be applied in public deliberation.
14. For an interesting analysis of the productive relation that holds between science and society,
see Barrotta (2016).
68 Roberto Gronda
In the light of what we have just said, we should thus distinguish between
scientists and experts for what concerns their function in the process of inquiry.
Scientists turn into experts when they take part in public deliberation. As scientists,
experts contribute to that articulative process of meaning clarification by providing
a description of some of the fundamental traits of the public issue. However, they do
not provide a complete description of those traits: the gap between universality and
individuality warrants the creativity of the public. From an idealized perspective,
scientific knowledge puts constraints to public deliberation, but those constraints
are open to constant redefinition. It is the public taken as a whole, as an articu-
lative process, that is the ultimate source of cognitive legitimation, expertise and
democracy being its internal components. Any attempt to acknowledge a source
of legitimation that is given outside and independently of the process of the public
is a denial of the autonomy of the public.
In conclusion, I would like to add a few words about the kind of solution to
the conflict between democracy and science that has been advanced in the present
essay. It is worth noting that mine does not purport to be an overall and definitive
account of the relation between science and democracy. It may well be that many
other features of their relation are not grasped by this account. My goal was simply
to call attention to the possibility of defusing their tension by developing a prag-
matist conception of expertise, grounded on a functionalist theory of the public. In
doing so, I argue, it is possible to recompose the conflict between democracy and
science on a local basis, in a piecemeal way.
References
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Chapter 4
Considering any democratic government, it goes without saying that the more
knowledgeable the citizens are, the better the democratic process will work.
Therefore, leveraging scientific information among laypeople is intuitively linked
to the growth of an educated population; some factors, though, taint this positiv-
ist account. Amateurization as an explicit stance on the one hand, “edutainment”
matched with the ever-growing complexity of scientific matters on the other. In
this paper we argue that while encouraging the diffusion of a general “love for
science” should inspire an appetite for more robust scientific knowledge, it also
foster the emergence of problematic cognitive situations, as the propagation of
the so-called epistemic bubbles or the progressive belittlement of the role of ex-
perts in society.
Introduction
With respect to any democratic government, it goes without saying that the more
knowledgeable the citizens are, the better the democratic process will work: in
case of direct participation (for instance through referendums) or by representa-
tion (e.g. elections), they should be enabled to vote for the most sensible policies
(still according to their political views). Leveraging scientific information among
laypeople is intuitively linked to the likelihood of one voting for the best, just as
sheer ignorance is responsible for poor political choices. Knowledge leverages the
ownership of our own destiny.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.06arf
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
72 Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
According to Miller (2010), civic scientific literacy is a concept that aims at repre-
senting the level of understanding of science and technology citizens need in order
to act freely and responsibly in a modern industrial society. It defines a threshold
level more than an ideal level of understanding and it is seen as a result of a con-
tinuous update of citizens education within and beyond the standard educational
channels. To make sure that the lay public achieves this level, mass media are the
most convincing tool to communicate scientific and technological advancements
to lay public. But since civic scientific literacy is a constantly in-progress goal and
the media have to consider as potential targets people of different generations and
environments (both college freshmen that have recently studied the properties
of neutrino particles and over 65-years-old men that once nearly finished high
school), they need to apply cognitive strategies that can appeal to a broad and
diverse audience instead of a narrow and specialized one: using, for example, the
so-called black box arguments, analyzed by Jackson. Specifically, she defines a black
box argument:
76 Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
Thus, using black box arguments instead of complete explanations, public media
offer to the laymen public what the latter is looking for: mere information wrapped
in an authoritative fashion. Black box arguments embed the function of informing
without fully explaining and are able to deliver the same amount of data to academ-
ics and retired carpenters alike. Thus, the oversimplified narratives that are used by
mass media to cover some technological and scientific advancement are appreciated
because they help to update fast and clearly the beliefs of the public every time they
switch on the tv or read a newspaper. This applies also even if they do not explain
the complicated process that drove scientists to some conclusion.
Therefore, the easy adoption of black box arguments in mass media is a
double-edged sword that can be describe in two points:
a. it increases knowledge of some sophisticated scientific and technological topic
in a vast population;
b. it increases the sense of knowing of the public, making some information seem
affordable to common people, as it displays some issues in ordinary terms and
without extensively displaying the complicated generation and defense of some
theories.
The point (a) implies that, in certain curated environments (as national news, ac-
credited newspapers, scientific-oriented journals), committed science journalists
will provide to the vastest public accurate (even if not open to expansion) data that
depend on the reliability on the expert figure. Moreover, while the transmission
of data is limited by the cognitive constraints of good communication (as it is as
fast, easy, and interesting as possible), in curated environments science journalists
are considered accountable for the information they display and so they are also
responsible for the level of accuracy and comprehensiveness of the data. Black
box arguments employed by these specific figures that manage the mass media
are just rhetorical tools that permit a balance between the cognitive affordability
Chapter 4. The expert you are (not) 77
and the epistemic features of scientific information for a vast public. Instead, the
positive features of the employment of black box arguments to discuss scientific
issues disappear when people are no longer accountable for the information they
discuss and share. So, the consequences of point (b) emerge without the possibility
of controlling their effects.
Indeed, in communication environments where there are no epistemic con-
straints that link the distributors of information to a certain level of accountability,
the leveled relationship between public and scientists (just apparently leveled: black
box arguments are still not open to expansion, even if they are discussed in laymen’s
terms) makes scientific issues appear as debatable, and not only by specialists. In
other words, even if black box arguments rarely increase actual comprehension of
complicated topics, they raise the participation of laymen in the discussion, belit-
tling the difference between scientific facts and personal opinions.
Thus, while science communication in mass media should aim at promoting
commitment to scientific knowledge, especially by engaging the experts on the
field, the use of black box arguments in de-authorized environments promotes the
emergence of overconfidence in laypeople, together with a fallacious reliance on
decontextualized data. De-authorized environments are, for example, on-line com-
munities, that are now the major substitutes of traditional mass media devices for
scientific information distribution. 1 Indeed, the Internet is one the most powerful
resources of information currently available. Last year, the Pew Research Centre
reported that more than two thirds of the American population use social media,
the vast majority to get news about politics, science and technology. At the same
time, also a distribution of disinformation occurs in these networks.
In the next section, we will discuss the consequences of the distribution of
scientific information as black box arguments in on-line communities and the cog-
nitive features that makes these digital environments dangerous media for science
communication.
It is easy to think about social networking websites and on-line communities focus-
ing only on their role as social aggregators. Originally, as commented in (Bertolotti
et al., 2017), social media were indeed designed as personal spaces to gossip and
share personal information, but now the amount of news, scientific data and polit-
ical statements that are distributed on their platforms should force even the most
skeptic person to consider them common venues for sharing – and consuming
and commenting – external content with one’s (actual and virtually extended) net-
work. Indeed, on-line communities could be powerful instruments for education,
but the current distribution of fake or, at best, “oversimplified” scientific reports,
political facts, and news in on-line platforms are the main reasons to consider so-
cial networks actual ignorance spreaders. 2 Indeed, on-line communities distribute
misinformation as well as news and the problem regarding this double diffusion
is the lack of epistemological tools the users have in order to distinguish what is
relevant and accurate and what is not. But how did social oriented tools develop
into mechanisms for sharing news and data that can also easily distribute misin-
formation and hoaxes as well?
First of all, on-line communities do not equally distribute the same amount of
information to all their users. Ranking algorithms work under the fabric of websites
in order to give out specific information to specific types of user, according to their
2. In our analysis, we will consider a very broad definition of the term ignorance. We claim
that ignorance as generally understood by analytic philosophers as a “lack of knowledge” fails
to understand the employment of the term in ordinary situations. Lack of knowledge, indeed,
refers to only a particular state of the ignorant cognition: the one that does not possess enough
information or the right information to be considered in a “knowledge state”. The problem of
this definition is evident if we consider cases where all the relevant information is offered to the
subject, who refuses to believe in the truthful data, or misinterprets it, or fails to understand it.
Ignorance, in our definition, is not limited to the situation where the agent has not all the relevant
information to gain a particular epistemic goal, but encompasses also the situations where the
agents lacks the epistemic tools to recognize and employ the relevant, true, or useful information
and, even if she has those data, she fails to believe in them or refuses to use them to reach her
epistemic goals. The lack of epistemic tools can be included in the definition of ignorance as lack
of factual or procedural knowledge to gain knowledge. In this sense, misinformation, fake data,
biased beliefs, and inaccurate statements are rightfully designated as instances of ignorance:
they are misinterpreted data, incomprehensible information and false statements that are not
recognized as such by the agents. And in the development of the digital era, the diffusion of ig-
norance through social media not only affects the analysis of ignorant people, but also the proper
philosophical definition of informed citizens that we should adopt.
Chapter 4. The expert you are (not) 79
previously manifested choices and preferences. These algorithms increase the per-
sonalization of websites, filtering the information that the users can actually access.
The employment of these kinds of software was an answer to the increasing amount
of information that was distributed on-line and initially they were implemented
by programmers of web search engines, with Google being the first to establish
personalized filters for the searches.
Since the implementation of this feature in 2009, different people have been
accessing different contents when googling the same term, depending on more
or less personal information Google has stored (where the users were logging in
from, what browser they were using and their browsing history, etc.) In on-line
communities, when a ranking software was used in order to compact the social
networks feeds into personalized frames, it affected not only the sense of social
gathering that these websites promoted, but also the contents that the users shared.
On Facebook, for instance, the algorithm that now implements the personalization
of the default page of the site is EdgeRank, which ranks every interaction on the
site. In other words, if you have more contacts with a person through Facebook or
pay more attention to her profile – chatting with her, commenting her posts, liking
her photos, spending time to check her profile, and so on – the more likely it is that
Facebook will show you more of her updates.
This tool powers the influence of peer opinion on these websites and the sense
of being part of an actual community, making preferable for users to acquire so-
cially filtered news. Moreover, with this implementation, the users not only see the
updates of all their “friendliest” friends but, given that consuming information that
conforms to one’s ideas is easy and pleasurable, they are more and more pushed
to see them, rather than information that challenges their opinions and questions
their assumptions. In this sense, it created what Eli Pariser (2011) calls a “Filter
bubble,” which is an extension of the confirmation bias through the means of so-
cial networks and on-line communities. The confirmation bias is the tendency
to consider and accept just the information that confirms one’s precedent beliefs
and opinion. Through personalized on-line platforms, this psychological fallacy is
reiterated in a web-space constructed for social aggregation but developed into an
information-sharing site. On the consequences of this phenomenon, Pariser wrote:
Partisans are more likely to consume news sources that confirm their ideologi-
cal beliefs. People with more education are more likely to follow political news.
Therefore, people with more education can actually become mis-educated. And
while this phenomenon has always been true, the filter bubble automates it. In
the bubble, the proportion of content that validates what you know goes way up.
(Pariser, 2011, pp. 51–52)
80 Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
The distinction between the proportion of what the agent sees because it is validated
by many sources, and what she sees because her friends share her same opinion is
no longer visible. And the visibility of this distinction is very important for how
science is communicated. For example, in “The Panic Virus”, the journalist Seth
Mnookin argues that Andrew Wakefield, a British gastroenterologist who alleged
that the measles-mumps-rubella vaccine might cause autism, was still very suc-
cessful in disseminating misleading information on vaccines through social media
where it garnered fame for that, even after losing his medical license (Mnookin,
2011). His fame has been spread by supporters of this argument and, through the
mediation of a confirmation-driven network, it produced a sense of validation
through emotional coherence for the hypotheses of concerned parents. According
to a UNICEF report, the anti-vaccination sentiment is hard to take down, not-
withstanding the many scientific studies that confirm that there is no connection
between inoculations and the occurrence of cases of autism: the networks that
spread this information are hardly penetrable to contrary opinions.
Moreover, the fact that information navigates trough social media and spreads
by “homophilia” (that is the drive to like what is similar to us), makes true what
Pariser (2011, p. 7) highlights: “With Google personalized for everyone, the query
‘stem cells’ might produce diametrically opposed results for scientists who support
stem cell research and activists who oppose it. ‘Proof of climate change’ might turn
up different results for an environmental activist and an oil company executive”.
Thus, the fact that the news consumption (as information receiving and sharing)
is increasing on social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, renders this
situation more and more dangerous from an epistemological perspective. Primarily
because the visibility of the information does not depend on its epistemic strength,
but on the popularity of a particular argument in a particular community or on
the popularity of the person who shared it. As pointed out also by Oeldorf-Hirscha
and Sundar:
The key factor is that news is coming from a trusted personal source: most news
links on Facebook (70%) are from friends and family rather than news organiza-
tions that individuals follow on the site.
(Oeldorf-Hirscha and Sundar, 2015, p. 240)
Indeed, in a social network, users play the role of what Bruns and Highfield (2012)
call “produsers”: which are not simply consumers of news contents nor producers,
but they exhibit a hybrid role in the on-line media networks that permit them to
share information created by another source as it was their own. User-generated
elaborations of news and the sharing activities on the network are proven to boost
the “sense of agency” of users, the feeling that the agents have some control on the in-
formation they share. And this belief may be not utterly wrong, since the important
Chapter 4. The expert you are (not) 81
thing about a content shared on an on-line community is who shared it, not what
has been shared. In this sense, the feeling of agency and control over the information
shared on on-line media can be experienced as “epistemological power” over that
information in that particular community. The emergence of “produsers” gave birth
also to the phenomenon of self-proclaimed experts, who are the acclaimed leaders
in social driven networks. People who shared a number of posts regarding the re-
cent discovery of gravitational waves (posts that contain fancily disguised black box
arguments) may believe that they effectively know something more than those who
did not. But knowing and believing to know something are two different cognitive
states and, while believing is a pleasurable condition, it is also a fallible state not
always recognized by the first-person perspective of the agent.
This phenomenon is at the core of shallow understanding bubbles that abound
in the net, which derive from the role of produsers that users play and the black
box arguments that are distributed in the on-line communities. These conditions
generate forms of “epistemic bubbles”.
The entailments between the pleasure of believing to know something and the
incapacity to distinguish it from the actual knowledge is the core of Woods’ idea
of Epistemic Bubble (2005). It describes the incapacity of distinguishing one’s own
ignorance from her knowledge. An epistemic bubble is a phenomenon of epistemic
self-deception, by which the agent becomes unaware of the difference between
knowing something and believing that she knows the same thing. It derives from
the fact that believing to have some knowledge is a pleasurable condition for the
individual: it permits her to act according to her beliefs and to relieve the irri-
tation that the lack of some important information may raise. Since the relief is
experienced when the knowledge is acquired, “feeling relieved” is taken as a clue
to the knowledge acquisition. Posting information on on-line community indeed
provokes a sense of control and agency over it: this may cause also the delusion
to have a special epistemic privilege over it, as to have acquired actual knowledge.
This can explain why there is a multiplication of self-proclaimed experts in
on-line communities over a variety of topics. In order to make an example, we can
speak again about the diffusion of anti-vaccine sentiments in Europe. One problem
that agencies like UNICEF have to face is the diffusion of medically unqualified opin-
ion leaders that guide the anti-vaccines crusades. They often have no college educa-
tion, but they appear to have been well trained in alternative medicine. Some are just
popular people of the show business, as Jenny McCarthy, who has presented herself
as educated, “Internet-savvy” mother that aims to defy the medical establishment of
82 Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
Since its massive diffusion, the Internet (and related technological devices) have
been triggering a particular cluster of effects that, as a matter of fact, seem to range
on two sides of the same fence. On the one hand, it empowered people to access any
content, service, tool on demand, right on time, wherever one is – aspects that are
generally greeted as positive advancements. On the other hand, it can be correlated
with reduced attention spans and a general unwillingness to spend much effort in
achieving what one is trying to get.
Bertolotti et al. (2011), analyzing the impact of the Internet on activism, sug-
gested that one of the main shortcomings is the “desultory” nature of Internet
Chapter 4. The expert you are (not) 83
activism, that is mistaking actual engagement (with its costs) with one-off clicks
supporting this and that cause. Desultory clicktivism can make people feel pro-
foundly engaged, inasmuch as they sign (frequent) petitions and read Internet posts
by political groups, NGO’s and other organizations, but again, they do not display
the kind of costly commitment implied by traditional forms of activism: for in-
stance, there is not always a satisfactory correlation between the media resonance
of a campaign and the funding the campaign actually receives.
As we already saw, a 2015 Pew research revealed that 65% of internet users
use social networking websites: 63% of Twitter users and 64% of Facebook users
now say each platform serves as a source for news about politics, science and tech-
nology. This means that science communication is displayed in the user’s “feed”
together with friends’ posts, celebrity gossip, kitten gifs, advertisement and so on
and so forth. This entails a twofold constraint: as we saw earlier, on the producers’
side, the news must compete in relevance and in being entertaining with a lot of
different content: first of all, science news has to be “new.” Also, they have to be
compelling, and in order to achieve this they must bypass the fact that the reader
does not necessarily have the background knowledge to appreciate the content in
all of its scientific accuracy, nor he is necessarily inclined to acquire it.
At this point, it seems possible to further explore the analogy with Internet-based
activism: just as the latter elicits people’s desire to have a positive impact on some
causes they deem noble (for instance humanitarian or environmental), yet without
the cost of a full-on activist engagement, so science communication relayed on the
Internet answers human curiosity as for scientific matters without asking, in return,
to commit to a costly scientific literacy. From this perspective, the evaluation of
Internet science communication is akin to that of Internet activism: it is clearly not
an evil to be demonized, quite the opposite, it is positive to share science news just
as it is positive to share information about humanitarian or environmental causes,
if only because – at a relatively low cost – such activities spread commitment and
knowledge. Things get awkward, though, as far as the recipients of the information
are concerned: a social media user that is very keen on clic-supporting causes and
sharing posts might be unable to tell his own engagement from that of an actual
civic worker, or that of an activist on the field (and for instance, not feel compelled
to help financially a cause, feeling that he has already done his share). Similarly,
a desultory access to science communication can have negative side-effects if he
things that his opinion, informed by occasional readings, is as authoritative as that
of an expert that was trained in the field.
Such an evaluation must not be taken as an ivory-tower claim that the world
of knowledge is black or white: either you are an expert and know and can have an
opinion, or you are a layperson and should mind your business and stick to a bliss-
ful scientific ignorance. Quite the contrary, there is a most wide range of accesses
84 Selene Arfini and Tommaso Bertolotti
to scientific knowledge, each with its own cost and merits, as long as the person
who accesses them is able to take them for what they are. A 500-word long blog
post on infectious diseases will give the reader some information, and it would be
dangerously foolish to claim that it would be better that she did not read it at all.
Still, if she watches a two-hour TV show on the same topic, she will gain a different,
probably higher, knowledge on the matter. If she were to follow a series of YouTube
lectures given by an intern in epidemiology, she would gain more knowledge still,
as she would if she read one or more non-fiction books about infectious diseases.
In some cases, a layperson could easily become an “expert” in the topic that inter-
ests her, even if that is not her professional occupation. One just needs to avoid the
“epistemic populism” and be honest with oneself in accepting the self-evident truth
that the level of expertise one gains is a function of what is spent on the matter in
terms of time and intellectual resources.
7. Concluding remarks
Nobel prize winner, physicist and science communicator Richard Feynman did not
believe in philosophy. More specifically, he did not believe in philosophy of science.
He is in fact famously reported to have quipped that philosophy of science is about
as useful to scientists as ornithology is to birds.
Ornithologists cannot teach birds how to fly, and we can only speculate about
the gratitude a bird may feel towards an ornithologist patching its broken wing,
but ornithology is dramatically useful for birds for instance as far as conservation
efforts are at stake. You might say that birds would not need conservation if men had
not put their environment in jeopardy: point taken, but one has better set off from
how things are, rather than how they ought to be. In an ideal Atlantis, where men
can dedicate freely to science, and have all the time and resources needed to share
their findings, and make sure every interested layperson gets things the way they
are, then the conservationist effort of philosophy of science would be redundant.
Considering how things are, though, with scientists busy doing science or
struggling for some fundings, media (public or social) trying to make an audience,
and laypeople wanting to get it with the least possible effort, science might need
help from philosophy of science, at least as far as its diffusion is concerned. The
role philosophy of science can claim in this picture is embodied, for instance, by
the stance presented in this paper. It is about fostering a minimal understanding
of science communication and the trade-off between its cognitive and epistemic
constraints, about recognizing the unavoidable presence of black box arguments,
actually understanding how the media work and how it tampers without cognitive
expectations. It also comes down to applying the tools of critical thinking and
Chapter 4. The expert you are (not) 85
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College Pubblications.
Chapter 5
Anna Petschner
Budapest University of Technology and Economics
In my paper I will present two case studies showing that politics partly disregard
the scientific standpoint in decision processes. I will examine the reputation of
the research on genetically modified (GM) plants and their experts in Hungary
as well as the status of invasive acacia, observing the articles on these cases in
the most popular daily newspapers and online news portals by rhetorical and
content analysis. I also conducted interviews with experts of GM plants to get to
know the research in practice. I will present that scientific viewpoints in these
cases were mostly treated in the process of policy-making in an imbalanced
manner, although the opinions of experts should have been treated equally.
1. Introduction
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.07pet
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
88 Anna Petschner
STS with historical perspective began with Vannevar Bush’s work (1945). His
description was inspired by an experience of the World War II, especially the
Manhattan Project which enlarged the importance and prestige of science. Research
attained an organizational and institutional system which was unknown before.
Light was also thrown on utility and expensiveness of science and it became nec-
essary to treat it as an independent institution. Bush’s work described the ‘linear
model’ which dominated the science and scientific policy until the 1990s. It divides
scientific research into two levels. The first is basic research which dominates the
academic sphere and its purpose is to reveal the truth. The second level is applied
research which uses the results of basic research to solve practical problems. The
researchers and the community itself are autonomous entities, they accept the tacit
rules and they serve the interests of society. In turn, politics support science and
leave its autonomy in peace. In this system, Mertonian norms prevail: norms of
universalism, ‘communism’, disinterestedness and organized skepticism (Merton,
1973). According to universalism, “truth claims, whatever their source, are to
be subjected to pre-established impersonal criteria: consonant with observation
and knowledge with previously confirmed knowledge” (Merton, 1973, p. 270).
‘Communism’ claims that “the substantive findings of science are a product of
social collaboration and are assigned to the community” (Merton, 1973, p. 273).
According to disinterestedness, science has to stay independent from any kind of
interest, while organized skepticism says that scientific claims have to be critically
scrutinized before being accepted.
In this approach, a positivist science notion emerged. Science is capable to say
how things are working in the nature, it can reveal the truth about nature, humanity
and society, and it is independent from the scientists’ personal beliefs. A success of
science is ensured by its method, thus, science constantly advances, it cumulates
knowledge and it results in prosperity in society.
From the Fifties, a growing number of philosophers and historians began to give
up their commitment to positivist scientific image and gradually changed their
views to (social) constructivist approach. Main participants of this change were Karl
Popper (1963), Michael Polányi (1958), Norwood Russell Hanson (1958), Thomas
Kuhn (1962), Imre Lakatos (1977) and Paul Feyerabend (1975). According to con-
structivism, scientific claims are necessarily connected to metaphysical beliefs and
to social (religious, cultural, political, etc.) spheres of their age. It is impossible to
Chapter 5. Two case studies about GM plants and invasive acacia in Hungary 89
elaborate a unique scientific method which is capable of ensuring the truth of sci-
entific claims, regardless of time and other local circumstances. Science is always
influenced by renewable hypotheses, paradigms, research programs and commit-
ments of the scientific community. In virtue of their approach, the scientific claims
are constructed by scientists, generated after debates and compromises. Thus, sci-
ence itself is not uncriticizable, contrary the positivist approach, and many social
institutions have rights to scrutinize it. Nowadays, in the fields of STS it is very rare
that somebody does not represent constructivist view, but in the fields of natural
and techno science, workers still stand for positivist scientific image.
Not only the scientific image but scientific practice also has changed. Already
in the beginning of 1970s, Jeromy Ravetz drew a line between science questing after
truth and science which resembles to an industrial enterprise, he considered science
to a manufactured product (Ravetz, 1971). Michael Gibbons and his colleagues
elaborated ‘Mode 2’ knowledge production, in contrast with ‘Mode 1’. The latter
is academic, investigator-initiated and discipline-based knowledge production. In
contrast, ‘Mode 2’ knowledge is a product of problem-solving that is created within
the context of application which represents the whole environment of the scientific
problem, methodology, outcomes and uses. It breaks with the linear model, there is
no basic or applied research, basic knowledge is construed during problem-solving
(Gibbons et al., 1994).
Contract has become an important notion not only in its social context, but
as a legal term. Government, industrial company, and so on are financing scien-
tific research and in turn, science constructs knowledge as a product. Because of
this, politics can treat science in the same legal and institutional manner as other
spheres of governance, this process terminates the uncriticizable position of science
(Guston, 2000a, 2000b). This approach involves the so-called principal-agent theory
which describes principals of politics interacting with agents of science to contract
for solving a scientific problem. This relation generates tension between the two
participants, for example, there is no guarantee that the principals employ the best
agent who can do a task. The thousands of links to science and politics have to be
warranted by ‘boundary organizations’ (Gieryn, 1995). This is where ‘boundary
organizations’ come in, whose central goal is to generate and maintain mutually
beneficial and meaningful relations between knowledge users and producers.
‘Mode 2’ knowledge and using contracts in science infringe its independence,
autonomy, impartiality and the Mertonian norms (Ziman, 1996). This new scien-
tific image is about the renegotiation of boundaries and finding optimal balance
between science and governance. The balance is essential, because if science got
too far from politics, it would become isolated, an ‘ivory tower’ problem would
emerge and politics would be incapable for using its benefits. But if science got too
90 Anna Petschner
close to politics, it would become unreliable, corrupt and in a corrupt science the
society would not trust.
Thus, science and politics have to respect their mutual boundaries. But some-
times politics has gone too close to science controlling their quasi-independence,
harming scientists’ rights and making too rigid laws. A great example for this sit-
uation is the case of genetically modified plants and invasive acacia in Hungary.
In the Section 2 I examine the communication and reputation of research on GM
plants. This paper does not commit to moral evaluation or judgment of scientific
innovations. Its aim is to present the debate and media reaction to the current
stance of genetically modified plants in Hungary. In the Section 3 I will describe the
case of invasive acacia. To summarize, I found that policymakers made limitations
on freedom of GM plants research and did not take the researchers’ opinion into
account in the case of acacia, although The Fundamental Law of Hungary, which is
a ground for the Hungarian democracy, would force them to do so. It is disadvan-
tageous not just for the science and media, but also for politics, because it cannot
use the benefits of these research.
brewing industries or crude oil purification, but also in the pharmaceutical industry.
In 2014, 1.25 million Americans were living with type 1 diabetes including 200000
youth (less than 20 years old) and more than a million adults (CDC National Diabetes
Statistics Report, 2014). For them, a treatment of this disease is insulin injections mul-
tiple times per day made from genetically modified bacteria. Although the regulation
of genetic modification of microbes and animals is almost as rigid as GM plants, the
former have got less critics than the latter. Cultivation of genetically modified plants
is primarily important because of the reduction of damages in agriculture (damages
can be caused by environmental factors – for example drought – or pests and weeds).
Because of these benefits, since 1996, areas of GM plants cultivation have linearly
grown, and in 2014, they possessed 181.5 million hectares (James, 2014).
These paragraphs generated a heated debate, because of the following reason. “It
seems from the constitution that genetic modification in agriculture is carrying some
kind of health risk, although it is just a technology that has different effects in different
plants. It is unacceptable to pass a sentence upon them uniformly.” (Index.hu, 2011)
This quotation is derived from János Györgyey who was a senior research fellow at
the Biological Research Centre in Szeged, Hungary.
worked with GM plants to be like Frankensteins, but also said that “It’s going to be
good if we not just prohibit cultivation of genetically modified plants on our fields, but
with greater rigor we would obstruct that the Frankensteins’ genetically contaminated
muck get into our food chain.” I think the most important part in this paragraph
is the notice of Frankensteins’ muck, which I take to be a good example for the
hot-tempered attitude in the GM plants debate. The fourth group of the participants
is the consumers, containing not just the customers, but also the farmers. For them,
the most important aspect is the quality of foods.
seeds were sold by Monsanto and Pioneer, the biggest biotechnological companies.
Because of the GMO-content and the fear of cross-contamination with GMOs, in
the so-called ‘isolation zone’, approximately five thousand acres of maize were de-
stroyed causing loss to the farmers. The destruction involved many farmers because
of the specific small-territories farming in Hungary. But according to the scientists
this huge volume of the damage was unnecessary, because maize is a self-pollinating
plant, thus, the defined 400 meter circle of ‘isolation zone’ was unjustified. The
scandal continued, when in January 2012, 5% of GM maize crop were used as pig
feed. The government claimed they treated it with propionic acid and thus it became
safe. It is true that this compound is commonly used as preservative of animal feed
because of its fungicide and bactericide effects. But the scientific fact is that except
it can destruct microorganisms, it has no other effect and it is incapable of making
GM plants “GM-free”.
2.2.2 Media
An important aspect was in the choice of media outlets how both offline and online
media represented themselves. Thus I examined the 3 most popular newspapers
and 3 most popular news portals.
Metropol is the Hungarian version of the Metro International as a free daily
newspaper. It exists since September the 7th, 1998 and in this period its name was
Metro. In 2008, its name changed to the final Metropol. 2 In 2011, 400000 copies
were printed per day, meaning that in this time it was the most popular newspaper
in Hungary. 3 The second is Népszabadság, which exists since 1956 and it had in
this time 65000 readers. This newspaper widely held to oppose to the government. 4
The last one is Magyar Nemzet. It had some roots in 1899, present-day form is the
outcome of the union with another newspaper, called Új Magyarország. It had in
this time 45000 readers and it widely held to be closer to the government.
From the online media outlets, origo.hu was the largest one. The origin of
this news portal goes back to 1997, when the editorship established the base of
2. In June, 2016 Metropol fell dead, it replaced with another newspaper, called Lokál, of which
owner is a government friendly person.
3. Just for comparison, approximately 9 million people live in Hungary.
4. Népszabadság had been ceased on October 8, 2016. The termination made a scandal, because
the journalists, who were working by the editorship, were banished from their office overnight, it
was prohibited for them to see their documents. In the first few weeks the explanation was that
the editorship has some internal transformation because of the change of ownership. Today only
its website works, but it is not updated.
96 Anna Petschner
the website. It became in 2015 the most popular internet portal in Hungary, with
about 600000 readers. 5 The second biggest news portal was index.hu, which was
established as iNteRNeTTo and got its final name in May the 17th, 1999. In 2015
it had 500000 readers per day. The last website is hir24.hu, which began to operate
later, but in 2015 the number of readers was approximately 350–400000.
Four main questions have been examined in my research. My first question was
which words were used in the newspapers’ articles. Did they use the expression
“genetically modified” or “genetic modification” which is neutral, a correct scien-
tific concept, or they used the expression “genetically manipulated” or “genetically
contaminated” which has some negative implication? The abbreviation of GMO
means genetically modified organisms, which cannot be only plants but animals,
bacteria and so on. Thus when a journalist says “GMO plants”, this means “geneti-
cally modified organism plants”. It is wrong because the abbreviation unnecessarily
duplicates the nouns. It seems to imply that the journalist authoring the article does
not know the topic because she used wrong words. My third question was how
many interviewees were in the article. It was an important question in the sense that
journalists had to present both sides of the conflict, the pro and contra arguments.
My last question was whether the usage of scientific facts was correct in the article.
Examining the offline and online media outlets, I found that in offline media,
Metropol and Magyar Nemzet are similarly negative in word usage, approximately
65% of the mention of GM plants use “genetically manipulated” or “genetically
contaminated” (see Figure 1a), Népszabadság uses the least negative words. By the
online media outlets, origo.hu is the most neutral, it uses only once negative word,
while index.hu and hir24.hu use these notions in 30–40% of words (see Figure 1b).
In order to answer my third question in the case of GM maize I made a dis-
tinction between pro and contra side. Those who argued against the destruction of
maize were farmers, researchers and Monsanto, the biotechnological company. On
the other side, those who argued for destruction were environmental protectionists
and politicians. By the examined offline media outlets, both Magyar Nemzet and
Népszabadság presented three participants, although Magyar Nemzet rather shows
the pros, while Népszabadság rather shows the contras. Metropol was balanced in
viewpoints (see Figure 2a). Regarding online media, none of them made a good bal-
ance between pros and contras, but origo.hu was the best of them (see Figure 2b).
A further result was that the loss of the farmers during the scandal of GM maize
5. Origo.hu in the end of 2016 has got a new owner, who is a government friendly person.
Chapter 5. Two case studies about GM plants and invasive acacia in Hungary 97
was critical. They had serious damages because of destruction, especially because
many of them had accounts payable, which would presolved after harvest. Despite
of this serious fact, only one newspaper, Népszabadság paid great attention to the
farmers’ opinion.
Another examined case was Séralini-affair. By the offline media outlets, Magyar
Nemzet used 60% of words with negative implication (see Figure 3a). Online media
outlets, origo.hu and index.hu were neutral regarding word usage (see Figure 3b).
It can be seen that in both cases Magyar Nemzet used more words with negative
implication than the others.
9
9 10
9 10
2 14
Metropol (2) Magyar Népszabadság (4) origo.hu (4) index.hu (2) hir24.hu (4)
Nemzet (4)
Figure 1. Word usage in the offline and online media outlets in the case of GM maize*
*Next to the name of the news portals or daily newspapers I show how many articles were examined.
2
1 3
2 4
4
2 4 1
1
1 1 1 1
Metropol (2) Magyar Népszabadság (4) origo.hu (3) index.hu (2) hir24.hu (4)
Nemzet (4)
Figure 2. Participants in the offline and online media outlets in the case of GM maize*
*Next to the name of the news portals or daily newspapers I show how many articles were examined.
98 Anna Petschner
a. Word usage in offline media outlets b. Word usage in online media outlets
in the case of Séralini-affair in the case of Séralini-affair
Magyar
Figure 3. Word usage in the offline and online media outlets in the case of Séralini-affair*, **
*Next to the name of the news portals or daily newspapers I show how many articles were examined.
**In Metropol and on hir24.hu there was no article about the Séralini-affair.
Figure 4. Participants in the offline and online media outlets in the case of Séralini-affair*, **
*Next to the name of the news portals or daily newspapers I show how many articles were examined.
** In Metropol and on hir24.hu there was no article about the Séralini-affair.
My second interviewee was a researcher with fifteen years of experience from 1995
to 2010. But since 2010 it has been prohibited for him to make any statement
about GM plants, he cannot do research in his discipline, he can only teach about
genetically modified plants. For an environmental council of ministers, he wrote
a book with other scientists, its title was Plain facts about GMOs. 7 It is also known
6. The interviewees demanded anonymity, thus, it is not allowed to make the audio record
public. For consultation, please send an email to the author (petschner.anna@filozofia.bme.hu).
7. Available online: http://www.pannonbiotech.hu/_upload/editor/book-small_angol-javitott_
VEGSO_1_.pdf
100 Anna Petschner
as the Hungarian White Book. The topics of the book included a discussion of GM
plants, their history, the technique and the sides of e.g. ethics or religion. But this
book was not presented on this council. Instead, another book was presented, the
Hungarian background on views of 1st generation genetically modified plants, 8 the
so-called Hungarian Yellow Book. It was a “counterbook”, it contains reports of
previous councils and it claimed unbiased that GM plants are dangerous. Another
story in the interview was related to a grant application. The main argument of con-
tra side was that the government spent a lot of money on GM plants research and
there was no outcome. These seeds were not applied on fields, so nobody knew they
were useful or dangerous. Nobody made a research with them and nobody knew
about their safety. So my interviewee wrote a grant application, because he wanted
to answer this question. After the review, he was informally told that although his
work was the best grant application they had, the committee would never support
him because of the milieu in Hungary (personal interview, 2014). 9
What is the conclusion of the GM plants case? First, the Hungarian media is mis-
cellaneous, the most news portals and newspapers are reliable. In online media
origo.hu was the most reliable and unbiased media outlet, whereas in the offline
media Népszabadság was the best in this sense. Magyar Nemzet was the least, it used
much words with negative implications. It is important to know that ‘zero-tolerance’
against GM plants is accepted univocally by the whole parliament (the government
and the opposition too). Because of the unified decision, it is expected that every
media outlets will be against GM plants. But the most hostile with GM plants was
Magyar Nemzet, which is mentioned above to be a government friendly newspaper,
the other newspapers remained mostly unbiased.
To supply my examination I also examined articles in American and British
newspapers during the Séralini-affair. In the American media I examined the most
popular ones, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times and The New York Times.
The most impressive observation was that these American newspapers always tried
to present both sides of a conflict. 10 In the Séralini affair, they presented opinion of
the researcher but also that of Monsanto and the politicians’. Another interesting
outcome was that in the examined British newspapers, in Daily Mail and in The
Guardian, much more biased articles were written. Although they presented the
pro side of GM plants, they often said something negative about the interview-
ees. For example: ““This study appears to be without scientific merit,” said Martina
Newell-McGloughlin, director of the International Biotechnology Program at the
University of California/Davis, which has close links to Monsanto and other GM
companies.” (The Guardian Online, 2012) As I see in the articles, Hungarian journal-
ism is moderate. I do not want to say that American journalism is the best and the
British is the worst, but given these two, between them Hungarian is in the middle.
Another outcome is that according to my interviewees, because of the Hungarian
milieu in politics and society, it is almost impossible to do GM plants research. On its
own it is a problem, but The Fundamental Law of Hungary also claims that Hungary
shall ensure the freedom of scientific research.
(1) Hungary shall ensure the freedom of scientific research and artistic creation,
the freedom of learning for the acquisition of the highest possible level of knowl-
edge and, within the framework laid down in an Act, the freedom of teaching.
(Article X, The Fundamental Law of Hungary) 11
In 2014, the European Union made a proposal against invasive species in order to
protect native species. The project emphasized that invasive species can cause serious
loss in the native biodiversity, that they are capable for spreading microorganisms
of various diseases and they can increase the economic damage, especially by crop.
The purposes of the program are to interfere for invasive species to get into further
territory and to reduce the size of areas of already pervading invasive species. This
project would have benefits, especially for the players of economy. It would offer less
expenditure of mitigation for public administrations and for small enterprises (for
example plant producer, fish farm) to reduce their loss. The description emphasized
Chapter 5. Two case studies about GM plants and invasive acacia in Hungary 103
the importance of a unified action among EU member states against invasive species.
Although the initiation did not contain a precise list of these species, the government
made great efforts to save acacia, the biggest honey producer tree in Hungary. It was
unexplainable since after the announcement of EU, more countries asked a protec-
tion for some invading species, for example the United Kingdom asked defense for
water lily, because it’s a common plant in English gardens.
The most media outlets dealt with this case for months, they brought out sev-
eral environmental protectionists, foresters and honey producers. The debates got
a new impetus when in May 2014 the acacia and acacia-honey became so-called
‘Hungarikum’, which is a very prestigious Hungarian status acquired by certain
food, products, etc. The conflicts have two main sources. First, The Fundamental
Law of Hungary implies that in scientific questions, as in the case of invasive aca-
cia, a scientific viewpoint has to be applied. Second, a previous law states that only
native and bred species can possess the status ‘Hungarikum’. According to the op-
position, the case has two main causes. According to the first one, the government
wants to control the situation as another struggle against the European Union,
intending to uproot acacia and also causing serious damage to Hungary. According
to the other, by focusing on the acacia problem, the government only tries to cover
up more serious problems, for example education or healthcare.
Although the case of invasive acacia generated as large and heated debate as
genetically modified plants did, in the media some critical voice filled with emo-
tion also has been created. On March the 1st, 2014, Magyar Nemzet had an article
with the title “Acacia as ‘Hungarikum’?!”, containing the following sentence: “It is
not favored that in this question which has important effects on the lives of future
generations, only the current interest of lobby of firewood tradespeople and honey
producers be decisive.” (Magyar Nemzet, 2014) Maybe it is not as rough a phrasing
as what I showed in the case of GM plants but it is also open to emotional subjective
opinion-making.
In this examination I applied the same resources as the case of GM plants. Thus,
the daily newspapers were the Metropol, the Magyar Nemzet and the Népszabadság,
and news portals were index.hu, origo.hu and hir24.hu.
Two of the three questions were also the same, namely whether they applied
the relevant terminology correctly and how many interviewees are in the article,
whether each side of the conflict appears (for example ecologists’, honey produc-
ers’ or foresters’). My last question was whether the article mentioned the conflict
between The Fundamental Law of Hungary and the other law.
104 Anna Petschner
3.4 Results
Figure 5. Participants in the offline and online media outlets in the case of invading
acacia*
*Next to the name of the news portals or daily newspapers I show how many articles were examined.
Chapter 5. Two case studies about GM plants and invasive acacia in Hungary 105
3.5 Conclusion
In the beginning it was claimed that an optimal distance between science and pol-
itics needs to be retained. This distance is essential because an unbalanced farness
can cause an isolated science or closeness can cause an unreliable and corrupt
science. But in the case of GM plants and invasive acacia, politics had a pressure
on media, used them for political purposes and this way had an influence also
on the opinion of citizens, strengthening the biased milieu in Hungarian society.
Furthermore, they contradicted to The Fundamental Law of Hungary and other
regulations that should guarantee the freedom of scientific research and also the
unrestricted opinion-making of researchers. With these decisions the Hungarian
government cut themselves from potential, future inventions and developments of
research that can be beneficial not just for society, but also for politics.
Acknowledgments
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Chapter 6
Aviram Sariel
Tel Aviv University
Science and scientific institutions are not necessarily passive players in the power
and manipulation games which constitute democratic elections. In this paper,
I shall present a seeming paradox, in which a party well-aligned with science is
vulnerable to attack which claims access to alternative and superior science. The
argument is demonstrated by the Israeli elections of 1981, won by a party which
presented the public with a Perpetuum Mobile, two days before the elections.
My analysis, indebted to Hans Jonas’s model of interregnums of values and
norms, seems to justify this maneuver and render it rational, in a sense restricted
to election campaigns. The analysis was used to predict the victory of Donald
Trump in the US elections of 2016.
Introduction
The overall theme of this paper is that science and democratic politics do relate, and
that the relation is both politically important and theoretically counter intuitive.
Here, ‘importance’ is a political measure: I shall argue that this relation decides cer-
tain election campaigns. ‘Counter-intuitiveness’ is an attribute of the theory, as well
as its content: I shall propose that politicians may use preposterous claims, which fly
in the face of accepted science, to expose a limitation of an established knowledge,
and inform a rational decision to vote against a party aligned with science.
I start with observing two types of constraints imposed on scientists and poli-
ticians, which, together, suggest that scientific speculation provides political room
for maneuver, unconstrained by political systems of checks and balances, nor by
the scientific methods of peer-review. I then define two ideal types of political
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.08sar
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
110 Aviram Sariel
parties, one which pledges alliance to science and the establishments of knowledge,
and another which operates outside and in many ways against existing science: its
success therefore constitutes a refutation of science, or clear identification of limits
of its claim for knowledge. Leaders of the latter party are therefore in possession
of a skeptic meta-view of what knowledge and science are, and may attempt to
communicate their worldview to the electorate by ironic challenges, which serve to
expose inherent limitations in the alliance with science, to which their adversaries
are committed. This type of performance is illustrated, I propose, by an Israeli elec-
toral anecdote, known as Meridor’s Invention: during the Israeli elections of 1981,
Jacob Meridor, a senior member of the Likud party, claimed to have developed a
thermodynamic cycle with over-unity efficiency, otherwise known as perpetual
motion machine, or Perpetuum Mobile. With this invention, claimed Meridor and
the Likud party, they could overcome any energy crisis, for the benefit of the nation
and the planet. As shall be seen, the claim for an unlikely scientific surprise did
not damage the Likud; the party won the elections not although it presented this
perpetuates claim, but, among other reasons, because of it.
In election periods, where norms are partially yet significantly questioned, this
move serves as a performance that fits the antinomian logic associated, according
to Hans Jonas, with periods of normative interregnum. In Jonas’s analysis, the an-
tinomian logic is not irrational, rather, it is a rational possibility highlighted by a
certain set of human experiences. Radical acceptance of this possibility, transforms
the meaning of the symbol of trusted knowledge into a symbol of error and vanity.
While Jonas considered this situation an important step towards the emergence of
innovative religiosity, it seems to be also relevant to democratic politics in which
the alliance with knowledge is strongly asymmetric. As such, the model may jus-
tify the presentation of a Perpetuum Mobile two days before the day of election
in the Israeli elections of 1981, or the tactics of Donald Trump throughout the US
elections of 2016.
My interest is with democratic politics, where it is science that tally the votes.
In other words, it is elementary mathematics that informs us which party won
an election. Science also informs candidates that in order to win an election and
govern a state, such-and-such percent of the votes should be won. The prescrip-
tion is sometimes complex: in the United States, presidential candidates are asked
to win a majority in the US Electoral College, which is different from winning
a simple majority among the electorate. Therefore, science informs strategies of
democratic politicians, and the mode of providing advice can be as complex as
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 111
In general, one party may swear alliance to certain pieces of science, such as free-market
economics, while the other may team with social-democratic economics. The first
party would cite Milton Friedman; the second party would credit Thomas Piketty.
However, sometimes parties are centered on meta-views regarding science,
or science-as-presented. Specifically, one party may be aligned, at least in image,
with science per se, while the other with certain revolt against scientific discourse,
again at least in image and at large, notwithstanding specific topics in which it is
decidedly scientific. As such, these parties do not exactly represent voters. Rather,
they provides voters with alternative worldviews, from which the electorate may
choose. The former party, the one that aligns with science, represents the opinion
of scientific establishment. The latter, the party that contest science or aspects of
science, or contemporary scientific establishment, presents a view centered on the
thoughts and experience of its leadership. In the following, I shall argue that this
party necessarily presents the public also with a meta-scientific position.
I shall call the former a ‘type A’ party or ‘A’ party, while the latter would be a
‘type B’ party, or ‘B’ party. These terms do not refer to different levels of command
over an electorate, but to the relationship between parties with science and with
authoritative knowledge establishments in general, i.e., including responsible and
truthful media channels. At least in Israel, these distinctions are easy to recognize:
the Israeli left is composed, by and large, of ‘A’ parties, while the right wing leans
more towards my designation of ‘B’ parties.
The Israeli elections of 1981 are often noted for their unprecedented intensity
(Lehman-Wilzig, 1983: 191, Bradley, 1985: 108–111, Greilsammer, 1986: 93–94).
The contender on the left side was the Israeli Labor party, led by Shimon Peres
(1923–2016). The Labor party did in fact found the state of Israel, and at the time
its leadership was composed of people whose public record was directly relevant to
Israel’s establishment, survival, and successes (including, of course, Peres himself).
Among other points of strength, the left was extremely well established in the acad-
emy: the founder of Tel-Aviv University, Professor Zvi Yavetz, was fond of saying
that the political opinions of his faculty members run the gamut from the extreme
left to the Labor party, but no further (Kleinberg, 2016). The Israeli left had similar
presence in the Military, important in Israel, in the state establishment, and in the
media. The Labor party was therefore an ‘A’ party.
The other contender, on the right wing, was the Likud party, led by Menachem
Begin (1913–1991). The Likud was in power for four years, but its coming to power
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 113
was not considered conclusive or foundational as it seems today, with forty years
of nearly uninterrupted Likud governance. The victory of the Likud in the 1977
elections was considered rooted in social factors, and often attributed to a general
climate of disappointment after the unsuccessful war of 1973, as well as a certain
contingent, or political, luck (Bradely, 1985: 73–77). In retrospect, these explana-
tions are often grouped together under a single heading; that a constantly growing
part of the Israeli electorate felt underrepresented in the establishment and by the
establishment. Below, I shall attempt to elaborate some more on the general state
of affairs. However, it should be noted that the sense of alienation from the Labor
developed over time, for in the first decades after Israel was founded, the Labor
party constantly won the elections. Thus, the growth of alienation paralleled the
development of the Israeli establishment itself, including a progressive level of ac-
ademic sophistication.
Since the Israeli left occupied the academy to such overwhelming levels, the
Likud – and Israeli conservatives, religious and right wing parties in general – were
anything but proportionally represented there. However, perhaps because of the
past domination of the Labor, the Likud was also under-represented in the Army,
establishment and Media. This meant that the leadership of the Likud was less
conversant in the vocabulary of military tactics developed in Israel’s early years. At
the time, Israeli tactics were considered revolutionary, and thus the military elite
had a justified claim for knowledge, often highly technical.1
A vision of market economy serves as a counter-example, in which the Likud did
indeed have ties with a dominant and evolved theory, known today as neo-liberalism.
But while socialist, the Labor party has been cooperating with Capitalism ever since it
was founded (Sternhell, 2009), and its gift for opportunistic pragmatics allowed it to
switch sides quickly: Peres was to become a prophet of privately owned enterprises,
in line with the dictates of the Israel’s knowledge elite (Peres, 1999:89–90, 100–102).
Thus, although market economy ideology was clearly on a rising curve in Israel
as elsewhere in the early 1980’s, the Likud was still a ‘B’ party.2 Therefore, it may
1. Begin was aware of the deficiency and in his previous government made successful attempts
to enlist the services of military leaders with high public profile: Ariel Sharon, Ezer Weizmann,
and Moshe Dayan. However, the 1981 elections were occasioned, among other factors, by the
resignation of Weizmann and Dayan from Begin’s government.
2. These categories describe a general public identity of the party, as opposed to the actual biog-
raphies of its leadership. Although he never practiced law except as a member of the parliament,
Begin had a university degree in law and classics (oratory and rhetoric), and was the first Israeli
Prime Minister who had a university degree in the first place. Peres, on the other hand, did not
spend a single moment of his immensely fruitful life on academic studies. In 1981 Begin was
already a Nobel laurate, accorded for the peace process with Egypt (1978). Peres’s Nobel Prize,
for his part in developing a peace process with the Palestinian Liberation Organization, was yet
in the future (accorded in 1994).
114 Aviram Sariel
have been natural that it was the Labor party which led the poles. The Likud, how-
ever, was anything but defensive. Under Begin’s leadership, the Likud run an inten-
sive, high-volume campaign, focused on identity politics and politics of religion,
and narrowed the gap between them and the Labor (Bradley, 1985: 91–94).
Meridor’s invention
On June 28, two days before the elections, the Likud party presented the public
with a scientific breakthrough in energy engineering: a thermodynamic process
supposedly efficient enough to produce 17,000 kilo calories from an input of 23
kilo calories. The announcement was presented by Jacob Meridor (1913–1995), a
senior party member who invested in it in private. He claimed the invention would
transform energy production, worldwide. To make things particularly clear, he
explained – incorrectly – that this invention is equivalent to using a single light
bulb to light the entire city of Ramat-Gan – a mid-size city, about twice the size of
Pisa. And so, the headlines described his invention as ‘lighting Ramat-Gan with a
single light bulb’.
But he also claimed that science as we know it is erroneous to a huge degree,
since production of 17,000 kilo calories out of 23 kilo calories is an energy gain
of 73,913%, which necessarily refutes the second law of thermodynamics. I tried
to find an equivalent, yet so far failed: Meridor’s invention is probably the boldest
Perpetuum Mobile ever presented. And it worked: the Likud won the elections,
by an advantage of mere 10,000 votes. The bulk of the victory probably traces to
long-term factors, and the bulk of the rest it is surely due to Begin’s intensive and
effective campaigning of the Likud. However, some part of the victory – perhaps
the crucial addition of necessary votes – is due to the invention.
After the elections, Meridor was appointed Minister of Economics and Inter-
Ministry Coordination. But the public retained its interest in the invention, and
popular accounts of thermodynamic analysis were for a while a standard element
of political discourse. The media went a step further and exposed the invention as
a hoax, engendered by the fruitful mind of Daniel Berman, advisor to the Faculty
of Arts in Tel Aviv University (Avneri, 1993, 82–84). Berman, it was discovered,
obtained this position assisted by a counterfeit PhD degree in Acoustic Engineering.
The faculty’s personal still remembers, and not fondly, the mess he made in equip-
ment procurement.3
3. I am indebted to Liviu Carmely from the Tisch School of Film and Television, the Faculty of
Arts in Tel Aviv University.
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 115
Berman’s machine was researched thoroughly. It was found that it was, in fact,
a relatively minor yet effective improvement in the performance of existing heat en-
gines, which used Ammonia as a working fluid, disregarding the dangers associated
with its toxicity (Fruend-Avraham, 2015). In short, heat and energy experts knew
all about the thermodynamics of Ammonia, and the excellent reasons why it is not
used. 4 They could also prove, albeit in ways less accessible to the general public and
fellow experts from other disciplines, why the second law of thermodynamics is
not challenged by an Ammonia heat cycle.
Meridor lost his seat in the 1984 elections, and never returned to politics: his
reputation was damaged beyond repair, and left-wing ‘A party’ politicians tended to
use his claim for Perpetuum Mobile to mock Likud’s command of technological and
scientific theories, and further the identification of Likud as a ‘B party’. Scientific
reason was restored, the planet was not saved, the A\B partitioning remained in
power, and so did the Likud.
Surprises are not uncommon in election campaigns. In the United States, where
elections are scheduled for November, such surprises are termed ‘October surprises’
in American political jargon (Parry, 1993). It is often alleged that these form a cam-
paigning tool for incumbent governments, which display diplomatic or technological
achievements. Opposition also uses last-minute surprises, where they often attempt
to expose facts embarrassing for the other parties (say, a sex scandal). However,
Meridor’s Invention seems unique, or at least rare, due to the notion of attacking
the core of science. Further, since the general tactic of last minute ‘surprise’ is well-
known (as it is), the invention could have been prepared in advance (as it was).
However, let us make two observations: first, that the dark horse, i.e. the B party,
Likud, did win the elections, and with short interventions, ruled Israel ever since.
Second, that Meridor’s invention took aim of the second law of thermodynamics
itself: the Likud did claim to have invented the most radical of all Perpetuum Mobile
machines. Why did these savvy campaigners made such a ridicules and potentially
damaging claim? More theoretically, what kind of consideration allows a B Party
to design and perform such an act? Can we assume that the very situation of be-
ing outside the sphere of established knowledge provides a performative privilege,
which consists in its rejection?
4. “[T]he present preliminary study gives a decided advantage to ammonia as a choice for
the working fluid in a solar sea power plant. However, it is recognized that the selection of an
optimum working fluid will require careful evaluation of many factors such as toxicity, mate-
rials compatibility, fire and explosive hazards, and plant maintenance and operational factors.
Ammonia has problems in several of these areas… an exhaustive search for other media that may
approach the performance of ammonia should be made” (Olsen, Dugger, Shippen and Avery,
1973: abstract).
116 Aviram Sariel
Let us begin with the possibility condition to act especially silly yet being taken
seriously. To my proposal, election campaigns actualize a time of ritualized breaking
of rules and norms. The ‘ritualization’ portion means it is not wholly radical, since
it does follows a pattern, and enacted only once every few years. However, some
potential level of antinomy is clearly present, since the previous governance is ques-
tioned. In other words, election campaigns do lend themselves to meta-discourses
regarding truth and power. If we attempt a very wide view, election campaigns
are somewhat like the medieval quodlibeta, a term derived from ‘quodlibet’ –
“what pleases you”, or “as you wish”, or “whatever you want”. In the Thirteenth and
Fourteenth centuries, the term referred to free public disputes held by reputed
universities twice a year, in which a question could be raised by anyone: the par-
ties could dispute on essentially any topic, regardless of agreement on method or
concept of truth. In the quodlibeta, the dispute would be decided by a master who
resided and provided the decision in the following day (Leff, 1968; 171–173, 184).
In elections, the dispute is occasioned every few years, lasts for months, and then
we tally the votes.
Unlike Carnivals, what happens in the elections does not necessarily stay there,
and breaking the norms is judged by the potential success or potential failure of its
effect within the electorate. That is, all utterances of any candidate, of any party, is
performative: to an extent, elections are an arena designed to amplify autonomous
choices, so they would impact reality. As such, election periods – the heart of the
democratic procedure – are also periods of interregnum.
Interregnum, ‘between kings’, was originally used to denote a time-lag sepa-
rating the death of one royal sovereign from the enthronement of the successor.
These used to be the main occasions on which the past generations experienced
(and customarily expected) a rupture in the otherwise monotonous continuity of
government, law, and social order. Roman law put an official stamp on such un-
derstanding of the term (and its referent) when accompanying interregnum with
temporary suspension of laws heretofore binding, presumably in anticipation of
new and different laws being possibly proclaimed (Bauman, 2012: 49–50, Agamben,
2005: 41–51). As Bauman notes, the term is useful to understand much of Gramsci’s
notion of crisis: a period in which “the old is dying and the new cannot be born”
(Gramsci, 1971: 276). Thus, interregnum is a time gap between two regimes, or
between two different systems of values, which govern the state (or two systems of
combinations of facts and values, if we reject fact/value distinctions).
Interregnum between periods of different system of values and concepts of
truth informed much of Hans Jonas’s work on the existential roots of Gnosis, which
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 117
5. Jonas never specified how the image of YHVA came to be important to the Greeks: for him,
unity was the actual state of affairs, and therefore any symbol of unity would be rejected.
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 119
Jonasian politics
The process, as I see it, would develop as follows: B party leadership comes to
understand that they are indeed supported by people whose choice runs against
science as we know it. Analysis of reasons for the existence of the growing core of
B voters is beyond the scope of this paper. Briefly, (a) the situation might be due
to social factors: people who as a group have lesser access to the academy are less
trained in and by its curriculum. Thus, they are less proficient in its terms, which
therefore command less authority among them. Alternatively, we may apply a li-
cense to philosophize: (b) since these groups did not participate in institutional
learning of such-and-such concepts, the terms which denote these concepts do not
mean the same thing in their conceptual language.
One way or the other, in the supportive core of B voters, science fails as a
language of politics. As such, the A/B divide implies an A/B fallacy, which in turn
means that the A leadership, or A-coalition in the wide sense, cannot penetrate
the supportive core of B voters and convert it to A voters. Therefore, the specific
science which supports A is not only false but dysfunctional, at least during elec-
tions. Perhaps, future election would rely on a new science which would explain the
phenomena, but in the meantime, science as a whole is not an image of truth, for
if it was, the A party would hold an unquestioned appeal for all voters. Therefore,
autonomous decision in the face of the scientific establishment is a fact which sci-
ence does not explain, and as such, science is refuted.
It is not to say that the leadership of B parties rejects the very idea of science:
according to the illustration, they reject a specific incarnation of science. But they
do reject, and indeed refute, the notion of science as an unquestionable wholeness
of truth. For, again, if it would, they would not have a single supporter in the elector-
ate. Thus, the leadership of B-parties is always concerned with a new discovery: the
limitation of instituted knowledge, Gramsci’s ‘old’. It is important to note that this
situation is not wholly contradictory to the general idea of science: the fact results
from refutation, and thus follows a standard meta-scientific analysis, i.e., Popperian
theory of enlightenment as a march of refutations and falsifications. Therefore, anal-
ysis of pre-theoretic may serve as meta-theoretic, and in our case, meta-scientific
and anti-scientific in the sense of science-as-currently-instituted. In other words,
B parties’ leadership is intrinsically associated with an image of science which is
decidedly different from science-as-established: they consider it falsified, and they
consider themselves to have performed the falsification. In other words, they view
scientific establishment as their erroneous peers, not only because B-leadership
operates outside scientific establishment, but because they refuted it. While the
refutation is partial, it clearly centers on the fact most important to B-leadership,
the possibility condition for their existence. And therefore, they would gradually
come to consider themselves, to a degree, as enjoying the scientific privilege to spec-
ulate outside legal chains, while at the same time not being subjected to scientific
peer-opinions. This achievement, of course, is potentially dangerous.
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 121
On the side of the electorate which receives the radical – and false – communi-
cation channeled by the preposterous challenge, the failure to answer clearly is de-
monstrative of Jonas’s analysis: if the symbol of unity is rejected, it is possible that it is
actually a symbol of a unified falsehood. Now, this may not be a necessary conclusion
for all verities of scientific knowledge, yet it is a possible conclusion: something does
not cohere with the kingdom of knowledge and power represented by the A party.6
It may seem like a huge virtue of the Likud leadership that they did in fact
subjected their claim for Perpetuum Mobile to standard scientific investigation, and
accepted its results. Other behaviors, let us recall, drove nations into apocalyptic
calamities: Nazi science of racism, the Soviet experiment to re-engineer their public,
or the Cambodian application of internally sufficient economy, serve as warning
signs for where the road not taken by the Likud could lead to. However, the Likud
was not promoting a doctrine (racism, Marxism-Leninism and agrarian socialism,
respectively) but a refutation of a doctrine. The party was therefore in power not
because it had a secret B doctrine, superior to the whole of science-as-established,
but because it refuted science-as-established in some key fields of human behavior.
This situation seems general in the A/B divide discussed here: B leadership does
not represent an alternative science, but an alternative to being rooted in science
and representing science.
‘A’ parties, on the other hand, side with science-as-instituted: therefore, they
cannot explicate why anyone would support the B party. Further, they do not apply
pre-theoretic analysis, because they are committed to theoretic analysis. And there-
fore, they are limited in their choice of meta-theoretic analysis. As such, they are
limited in their ability to predict the actions of the B party, which are rooted in the
very form of meta-theory unavailable to them, inasmuch as they are an A party. This
situation is another element of the aggregate risk: B-parties that are able to apply
this analysis may be able to exploit situations their A-party opponents would not.
This advantage of the B party is not overwhelming. For we should consider
science to be very effective, also when it comes to predicting electoral behavior and
public opinion. However, within the limited arena of skepticism about science, B
parties may surprise and trump A parties, over and again: their very existence is a
surprise inexplicable to their opponents.
an extravagant claim may rule supreme, and signal that a revolution in values has
already taken place. As we saw, Meridor’s Invention was presented just two days
before the election: its refutation was total, yet required time. And until it happened,
the Labor was not aligned with science per se, but with a version of science, which it
failed to comprehend independently of its scientific board of advisors. Again, while
one of Shimon Peres’s lifelong achievements was the foundation of Israel’s nuclear
program, he was anything but a scientist on his own right. What he could claim – with
great accuracy – was that he was in possession of exceptional skills for interpersonal
relations, which allowed him to work with scientists as people with whom he could
cooperate. Considering the complexities of knowledge, this claim is not anecdotal
but typical of what A-leadership can claim in all cases. However, knowledge which
pertains to people is, exactly, where B-leadership excels over established wisdom.
Peres, like all A-leadership, was therefore incapable of answering such a challenge:
he could not, say, claim that he is not sure about the exact details of the second law of
thermodynamics, but trust in the people who do know. What he could, and did, was
to ask these people to provide a slow yet authoritative analysis, and lose the elections.
First, Trump’s victory is now a historic fact, and a troubling one. Second, un-
like the move illustrated by Meridor’s Invention, Trump did not produce a single
event of the type analyzed above, an October surprise, or a last-minute inven-
tion of a Perpetuum Mobile. Instead, Trump lied throughout the campaign on
a huge number of issues, and created a truth-challenge of a different type: each
of the non-truths could have been checked and refuted, but the sheer number of
distortions was overwhelming even for the capable stuff on the Democratic side.
Therefore, the inability of an A party to provide systematic defense of their suppos-
edly factual alliance was constantly present to all voters: if the utterances were not
checked, they are accepted and influence through conclusions drawn from them.
If they are refuted, these utterances demonstrate the Democratic dependency on
teams of fact-checkers.
Third, Trump practiced other forms of value-reversal, notoriously so when his
attitudes towards women were raised. Here, the challenge exposed how hard it is
to school anyone in politically-correct practices. Clearly, Clinton was significantly
slowed when she had to provide apt explanations as to why exactly it is morally
wrong to talk in a certain way. In other words, this specific form of challenge
proved how complex progressive theory is, and how little its arguments, statis-
tics, and theoretical assertions are publically known, even to political leadership.
Meridor’s Invention proved Shimon Peres was no nuclear physicist; Trump’s con-
sistent challenges to women dignity proved that the Democratic Party, and Hilary
Clinton, fail as eloquent and effective representatives of contemporary feminism.
Last but not least, the Trump controversy after the elections brings the
Correspondence Theory of Truth into the very heart of political discourse.
Cast as ‘post-truth’ vs. ‘alternative truth’, the campaign against Trumpism again
pre-supposes that the other side is anything but effective in this field. It seems to
attempt to cast Republican leadership as essentially ignorant of or indifferent to
what truth is, not noticing that this situation necessarily means they have some
concept of meta-knowledge which they find useful or truthful, and probably both
useful and truthful.
If my analysis is correct, this approach would miss its political point entirely: it
would only serve to extend the horizon of interregnum, and provide a convenient
vehicle to initiate the next campaign, already in the present time, simply by proving
once more how pretentious is the claim for knowledge held by an A party. As of
now 2017, two demonstrations supportive of this conclusion seem to be already
available: US economy did not trample, and anti-Semitic incidents were not traced
to Republican voters supposedly influenced by Trump but elsewhere. Both attests
for the limits of established knowledge used for interpretation. So, if the trend is to
continue, then Trump would not only occupy the white house for a second term,
but may institute a longer period of Republican domination. This is not the worst
Chapter 6. Save the planet, win the election 125
of all evils in itself, yet a single-party domination does constrain the potential of
democracy. If the Israeli example is to be taken in the extreme, than the A/B di-
vide may create a constant state of A/B mélange, in which B party always retains
political power, yet governs over and with an establishment essentially committed
to the A party, or A opposition. At the same time, and although in power, at least
some of the B-party supporters would necessarily feel alienated from established
knowledge, and even persecuted by it. Again, this situation may not be the worst
of all evils, but it is an evil, as well as form of single governance which democracy
is supposed to challenge.
In conclusion
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Chapter 7
Oded Balaban
University of Haifa
… the defenders of every kind of regime claim that it is a democracy, and fear that
they might have to stop using the word if it were tied down to any one meaning.
Words of this kind are often used in a consciously dishonest way.
George Orwell (1968, pp. 132–3)
Democracy admits no source of authority. It assumes that values are not derived
from facts, and facts are not derived from values. This runs contrary to Plato’s
“virtue [values] is knowledge.” According to Plato’s logic, experts should rule the
republic. Contrary to his view, Democracy assumes that there are not experts on
values. Therefore, democracy means the “decision” to rule by means of formal
procedures like suffrage or rotation of rulers. Unlike in science, what prevails is
not reason and authority based on knowledge. This is the ground for the needed
measures against the tyranny of the majority to assure tolerance, freedom and
equality before the law.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.09bal
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
128 Oded Balaban
And Giovanni Sartori adds that democracy can be defined as “a high-flown name
for something which does not exist,” and that it “is a misleading term for what it
claims to designate” (Sartori, 1962, p. 3).
The reason is that the concept of democracy was not created to describe any
given fact. It is a normative concept that never shows itself as such but is disguised
as a notion about certain facts that can be described and explained. It is intended
to be used as a practical guide, as a regulative principle.
The different definitions of democracy have an Aristotelian character, namely,
they are definitions by genera and species that define what something ought to be,
rather than what it is. Alternately, at least, we cannot draw a clear-cut distinction
between the use of the term with a cognitive or, on the contrary, with a normative
intention. Descriptions and illustrations of real democracies will only be looked
upon as approximations to those ideal definitions. Democracy is defined in the
same way as existing whites are defined by their proximity to whiteness, or existing
horses are defined by their proximity to the “horseness,” the ideal horse. It should be
noted that the non-existence of democracy is only the first in a long line of scandals
related to this notion.
The concept of democracy has many and even opposite meanings. There are
also attempts to keep a delicate balance between opposite meanings, so that it be-
comes easy to promote, in its name, recommendations opposite to those expected.
For an analysis of the different meanings of democracy and a succinct historical
account of democracy, see Benoist (2003). Victor Massuh notes that
Democracy attempts to satisfy the will of the majority without sacrificing the mi-
norities, to favour equality without ignoring differences, to make room for civil so-
ciety without devaluing the role of the State, to preserve the rights of the individual
without neglecting the general interest. It encourages a subtle electoral mechanism
by taking pains not to dampen democratic enthusiasm or its vitality; it sees to it
that private and public interests interact without tension, ruptures or corruption.
(Massuh, 1998, p. 67)
All those contradictions are supposed to be reconciled living together in the idea
of democracy. The question is whether one or more of those contradictory mean-
ings of democracy, or democracy itself as a synthesis of contradictory meanings,
has a rational justification or foundation. My thesis is that all those attempts made
in the past and the present to find a foundation for the support of democracy are
not sustainable. The result, or rather, what is assumed beforehand in democracy,
generally with complete unawareness, is that either real or ideal, democracy lacks,
as a matter of principle, a source of legitimation.
The difference between democracy and other regimes lies in that it is the only
one resulting from the awareness that all actual and possible regimes lack a source
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 129
of legitimacy. The case of the matter is not that first democracy was invented, and
later it was discovered that it lacks a source of legitimation. Democracy was in-
vented as a result of this awareness. The great discovery was, then, that there are no
governments that possess such a source.
Its first expression, in Athens, was when, facing policy-deadlocks, Athenians
did not decide to settle disputes by killing or exiling opponents, as was done before
by tyrants. Athens reacted to discrimination, stigmatization, ostracism and other
forms of interpersonal rejection by turning to a procedure where each side will be
ready to assume the responsibility of sustaining the rights of minorities to live with
the decisions of the majority. Namely, Athenians accepted as legitimate holding
public discussions and making final decisions by vote or rotation in office, on those
issues depending on values, not on expertise and professional knowledge. In his
Protagoras, Plato shows how clear in his days was the distinction between issues
discussed in democratic assemblies, that are issues concerning values and ends, and
issues concerning knowledge of means. Public assemblies consult and take advice
from experts, and are ready to give them the legal authority to make decisions on
the fields of their specialization. Professional issues depending on knowledge are
not discussed in general assemblies (see Plato, Protagoras, 319b–320b).
This does not in any way contradict the historical fact that democracy started
as “a kind of extended aristocracy” (Ehrenberg, 1960, p. 50). My description rather
expresses the adaptation of aristocracy to the new regime, which emerges from the
lack of a source of legitimacy.
Many attempts have been made to find a source of legitimacy even for democracy, a
regime that in fact arose by recognizing that it is a futile attempt. The attempts them-
selves run against the origins of the idea of democracy. I will give a few examples.
First, let me examine the shortcomings of the Will of the people which is a
widely accepted source of legitimation for democracy. I expect to draw some valid
conclusions from this example for all other cases.
The problem can be addressed as follows: let me start with the Individual Will.
Regarded as a source of legitimation, it is held to be immanent, since the posses-
sion and use of the Will belongs to each of the individuals. The individual Will is,
precisely, the principle of individuation, or the principle of differentiation between
individuals. The Will is something that I do not share with others and others do
not share with me. For this reason, no political regime will function if it is only
based only on the individual Will. It will be rather the ground for chaos or for a
state under the laws of nature, as defined by Spinoza, where “fish are determined
130 Oded Balaban
by nature to swim and big fish to eat little ones, and therefore it is by sovereign
natural right that fish have possession of the water and that big fish eat small fish”
(Spinoza, 2007, 195).
Now the question is, what do we hold in common if not the empirical Will?
As individuals, we have a common Reason as opposed to a Will, as Descartes
rightly held. He wrote that the source of error is the premature decision of the
Will, that puts limits to the activity of our understanding (Descartes, 2008 Fourth
Meditation). It is premature indeed but only from the point of view of theory. For
practical needs, we need the intervention of the judgment, or the Will, which is the
responsible for decision-making. Without the intervention of the Will, we would
remain unable to make decide but only to think, including thinking about decision
though without deciding.
If we would not share the same reason, a common understanding capacity, we
would be unable to hold a dialogue in which each understands the arguments of
each other. Reason is the only trans-individual or inter-individual capacity that
might be claimed as a source of legitimation for democracy. Remember what the
problem is: democracy means the recognition of values that I do not share, which
is the reason why we cannot, in principle, agree regarding decisions-making. If we
were to have the same Will and share the same values and preferences, we would
neither need democracy nor a State nor Laws or legislation but computers would
make better decisions for. The case is that we have different Wills and share the same
Reason. We cannot agree on our values, but we can understand each other including
our disagreement and agree about this disagreement – namely, to understand it in
the same way and with the same meaning. That means, the sum-total of Wills does
not create the factor that causes and guides normative political activity.
It is required another kind of Will, one that is not identical with the arithmetic
sum of wills, but a will oriented towards the political good. As a step to overcome
the individual Will, it has been thought an opposite idea of Will – the idea of a
General Will, which is Rousseau’s version of the romantic Volksgeist. While the
Will of all is real, empirical, representing the particularity of interest, the General
Will is a normative universal idea – it is not real but ideal. It is justified as a fictional
transcendent Will, since it is supposed to impose itself upon the individuals from
outside. It appears when we look at ourselves from without, in reflective thinking.
Yet since it is not really extrinsic, because it does not come from the heavens, this
General Will has to be regarded, like the individual Will, as an attribute of the
individual, but as an attribute of the impersonal aspect of the individual–namely, it
is supposed not to be part of the empirical, factual individuality – it is supposed
not to be part of the individual‘s individuality. It is rather supposed to be the rep-
resentative of the individual’s generality or, better, an individual’s universality. It
refers to the citizen, not to the individual, or, rather, to the individual as much as
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 131
it is regarding only from the point of view of its being a citizen of the State, a kind
of transformation of a concrete individual into an abstract citizen. It refers to what
people would want if they were able to make decisions only as citizens and not as
individuals (Rousseau, 1994, pp. 66–7).
Kant and Rousseau tried to go down this path. Note, the problem was to find a
source of legitimation as a guiding principle for all the citizens about what has to be
decided, namely, the question is to find some “ought” that should be derived from
a “is” while the “is” itself should not be empirical. If it were empirical, it would be
impossible to find a source of legitimation, since the source has to take precedence
over the empirical citizens. It has to be something placed at the origins of a natural,
given, process and, therefore, not part of it. This has to be the place of Freedom
against natural necessity. It is what is called the distinction between de-facto and
de-juris, which is also the pass from being a natural being to become a social being,
from being a human being to become a citizen. Real freedom indeed, does not
mean to follow one’s inclinations or given nature, but precisely a subject that posits
itself in front of itself as a natural being. It is the proof that the subject can act upon
itself and change its own natural character, becoming a social and historical being.
This is the work of Reason when applied to the Will or the work of a Rational Will.
Thus, Rousseau and Kant extended Reason to the Will. The general Will is
supposed to be a Rational Will. Reason, according to Descartes, is the source for
shared understanding though not for shared values. This is the problem, therefore:
How to turn a principle of understanding into a normative principle intended for
making decisions. The General Will has this capacity only when it makes decisions
that are proposed, or guided, by universal Reason. Otherwise it remains individual
Will. The General Will, or the Rational Will, is assumed to be a source of legitima-
tion, as volonte generale, as clearly differentiated from the empirically-given sum
of individual Wills, volonté de tous, or when it becomes one with Reason. As such,
however, as General Will, if it is regarded as the source of legitimation, it is merely
because, actually, it is the precondition for law-making, in the sense that it in fact
legislates, so that we become involved in a petitio principii where the empirical
existence of the general Will is the proof of its existence. In short, it explains law
making, but does not justify it.
Reason itself is able to understand, but does not make decisions. Thus, the very
attempt to regard the Will as the source of legitimation is a tacit admission that there
is not a source, since the Will, in order to be universal and to be really a source,
cannot be derived from empirically given facts, in this case, the fact of legislation.
Nor can Reason help the Will to make decisions, since Reason represents, in the Is/
ought distinction, the side of the “is” alone. Reason cannot tell us what to do, but
only what is and, therefore, it only can be used as a means for decision-making.
132 Oded Balaban
What I said regarding the General Will, as I argued elsewhere, is true for any at-
tempt to find a source of legitimacy (for more cases, see Balaban, 2004). Now it
should be clear that the real problem of legitimation is that we are trying to find
something unattainable. It amounts to find a value derived from facts, or an “ought”
that is derived from a “is,” though generally disguised as if this is not the case, as
if it were instead a real foundation. This way it does not work, or works only in
appearance.
The problem here is, that if the Will is not derived from experience, if it is disin-
terested, if it is universal, how can it be the source of legitimation for any concrete,
given, democracy? At most it might be the source in the sense that it can explain
a type of government, but it cannot be a legitimating source. This is the core of the
problem: if it is not derived from experience, how can experience be derived out
of it, namely, based on it? Laws are at least in accordance with a principle, but are
not derived from it. Does all this not only mean evading the question by means of
a wrong answer? Does it not mean that we are dodging the question? Isn’t this a
justification of something merely by the assertion that it is as it is? Isn’t this appeal
to the Will as a source of legitimation similar to any attempt to justify something
merely by means of recognizing its existence? Isn’t this a circular positivism or
empiricism, in the sense that what is, is at the same time and for this reason, also
what ought to be? If the Will explains a given democratic society, how can such an
explanation become its legitimation?
Joseph Raz seems to take this misleading path mixing together de facto and
de jure authority, or taking together authority and its legitimacy. So, when a legal
system is in force, when it is a de facto authority, it also means that it possesses
legitimate authority or is held to possess it, namely, it claims to have it (Raz, 1994,
p. 215). He, therefore, does not make a distinction between the exercise of power
and its justification. Power, on the contrary can be exercised without claiming jus-
tification, or at least, independently of this claim. Authority and legitimation are
very distinct things. The one is only a fact, an “is,” the second implies an “ought.”
There is something similar in the writings of Max Weber, the most influential
writer on legitimacy questions. Weber contends that the legitimacy of an authority
lies solely in the fact that people believe in the existence of a legitimate order, and
this belief is the source of the validity of the order (Weber, 1968, p. 31). Actually,
Weber refers to the idea that there is no source of legitimacy though in positive
terms. Legitimacy should be derived from a general criterion, and not from given
facts. It involves a valuation of facts, not merely their recognition. Weber denies
the transcendence of legitimacy, and so, perhaps contrary to all appearances, totally
denies the existence of a source of legitimacy. Let me put this in a less outrageous
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 133
style: he denies the existence of a valid legitimacy but recognizes only a factual one,
which is but a contradictio in terminis.
Now, I will take a further step. I think that even Reason cannot be a source of
legitimation for decision-making. Because calling upon Reason as a source assumes
that the problem was solved beforehand. Resorting to Reason assumes that we all
share the same values and have the same preferences. So, although at first glance
rational deliberation may seem to be a more democratic way for the resolution of
conflicts than to decide by majority, deciding by majority at least does not deny pos-
sible antagonisms between values but acknowledges their existence. Deliberation
or the idea of direct participatory democracy, assumes, on the contrary, that such
discord is merely ostensive or that it is based upon misunderstandings that can be
solved through negotiations. This way, assuming that people share the same values,
they are supposed to be able to arrive at consensual decisions after discussing their
differences openly and without fear, and even to reach a “win-win” solution where
each participant gets more than it would have gotten if turning to other means.
This last way is preferred by Jürgen Habermas. He recognizes that there are two
concepts of legitimacy that have to be rejected, the empiricist and the normative.
The first is analyzed by social sciences, since it is about facts, from which values can-
not be deduced, disregarding the question of legitimacy or, what seems a tautology,
disregarding the validity of legitimacy. It treats legitimacy as a social fact, without
assuming the validity of validity or of legitimacy. The second, the normative, is,
according to him, unsustainable because it disregards empirical elements, but is,
according to Habermas, “untenable because of the metaphysical context in which
it is embedded” (Habermas, 1979, p. 204; see Balaban, 1990). In this classification,
Habermas assumes that there is no place for only one of them –the empiricist or
the normative concept – in order to understand legitimacy. It is because Habermas
himself thinks about legitimacy by asking at the same time for the validity, or
normativity, of legitimacy, namely, when coming to analyze the meaning of legiti-
macy, he does not distinguish between a normative and a cognitive perspective. It
is remarkable that in another order of things, when asking about the justification of
law (in the normative meaning) in the framework of the principle of democracy, he
contends that the law is not something that “one could ‘justify’, either epistemically
or normatively” (Habermas, 1996, p. 112)
However, since he believes in a process of communicative shared understand-
ing as the basis for making decisions, he proposes a third position to solve the con-
flict between facticity and legitimacy (or normativity), the idea of a reconstructive
or a critical legitimacy, that mixes together both points of view. However, Habermas
adds that along his hermeneutic approach, he does not arrive at “a judgment of the
legitimacy that is believed (factually, O.B.) in” (Habermas, 1979 pp. 204–5). He
adds immediately, however, that “assuming that idea and reality do not split apart,
134 Oded Balaban
in the dialogue, but also for any possible rational subject. A rational subject is one
who is able to justify his acts with normative valid orders and, mainly, one who acts
attempting to be able to judge without biases (see Habermas, 1981, p. 39).
One of the interesting theoretical results in this regard, is an inversion of terms.
Instead of asserting that democracy is the only regime that recognizes the lack of a
source of legitimacy, it is asserted that only democratic regimes can be legitimate.
For example, Allen Buchanan regards legitimacy as being the same as morally jus-
tifiable (see Buchanan, 2002). Bernard Manin believes that democracy is a regime
based on deliberation, presupposing that reasons and argumentation are the basic
character of democracy (see Manin, 1987). It is my conviction that the very decision
by voting contradicts this rational principle. Kenneth May argues that the source
of legitimacy lies in the formal conditions represented by democracy. For him, the
capacity of the regime to make decisions is the key issue (May, 1952). In the same
vein, Joseph Raz maintains that democracy is necessary for legitimacy, though
only if it brings about desired outcomes (Raz, 1995, pp. 31, 161, 367). It seems that
theorists of democracy are not ready to accept the democratic principles as a result
of the absence of a source of legitimacy, believing that democracy is its very source.
When the lack of legitimacy for democracy (or for any other regime) becomes
clear, a second questions arises: can democratic decisions be taken on the basis of
knowledge of given situations, or perhaps they also lack a source of legitimacy?
Jeremy Waldron maintains that even if there is a disagreement on values, cit-
izens can agree on what sorts of argument would make a proposition more likely
to be true, shifting the focus to epistemological arguments in order to justify the
authority of law (Waldron, 1999, p. 73). Legislation is for Waldron, at least in prin-
ciple, a matter of knowledge.
The basic assumption, shared with a popular widely held belief, is that political
decisions have to be taken by experts. Decisions are mainly based on what is called
the “Rational Choice Theory.” This assumes that citizens share the same values, so
that it begs the question. It assumes that a rational actor is motivated by “expected
utility” rather than by other values like altruism or direct pleasure. Utility is taken
as the sum of an agent’s preferences. If the Rational Choice Theory is an instrument
for deciding what ought to be a rational choice, such a theory, if it recommends
some course of action, has to take into account the subjects’ cultural or ethical
norms. If the question is how rationality is bounded by cultural or ethical norms,
or by cognitive constraints (see Simon, 1995), in this case, nobody will be able to
propose some pattern of behavior unless the pattern is socially accepted in each
136 Oded Balaban
case, which is the opposite of a normative rational choice approach, that should
not be deduced from actual social facts.
Under the same assumptions, there is even the contention that our political
problems arise because we lack professional politicians, meaning that those who
are not are ignorant on the relevant questions about which they are called to make
decisions. Rationality under this approach, does not mean to choose means for
given (neither rational nor irrational) ends, but concerns those definitions of ra-
tionality that put into question the very ends, values or beliefs, arguing that there
are beliefs that can be true, namely, epistemically justified. Amartya Sen supports
this approach. For him, rational choice “is primarily a matter of basing – explic-
itly or by implication – our volitional choices on sustainable reasoning… Rational
choices … is foundationally connected with bringing our choices into conformity
with the scrutiny of reason” (Sen, 2007, p. 340). Sen, ultimately and in a rather
sophisticated way, attempts to reduce values to knowledge.
The appeal over centuries to Plato’s Republic, which is the utopia (or to my
taste a dystopia) of a country governed by philosophers, has its origins in this ten-
dency to believe in knowledge as the source for decision making. The belief is that
the production of scientific knowledge includes the knowledge of the values that
determine what has to be decided, implying that this knowledge includes making
recommendations on what to do.
My second contention, answering the question of whether democratic deci-
sions can be taken on the basis of knowledge of given situations, or whether per-
haps they also lack a source of legitimacy, is thus, that the need of knowledge for
decision making does not run against the normative non-scientific basis for the
determination of ends, since it refers only to finding the means that must be taken
before the given ends. Ends are determined by values and the conflicts between
values cannot be resolved by knowledge of relevant facts, though this knowledge
plays a central role that needs yet to be determined. The normative character of
the ends can be shown but not grounded on something else. They are determined
by unfounded systems of values. Knowledge enters into play when we ask what are
the best available means to realize our values.
Once acknowledged the lack of a source of legitimacy, the question is about the
role of science (or knowledge in general) in democracy.
Science deals with knowledge of facts, even with knowledge of democracy
as a given fact and with the knowledge of values. The knowledge of values is the
subject-matter of axiology, the science that studies values though without taking
a stand for or against them. It is a value-neutral study of values. Values have, for
axiology, the status of a special kind of “facts.” Even in this case, however, values are
regarded as the stands taken on facts, and they are applied to facts, either to merely
value them, expressing approval or rejection of them, or are applied to facts in order
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 137
to change them or to prevent their being changed by someone else. They are merely
used for the valuation of facts, or as a guide to be applied to facts.
Under this value-neutral perspective, values are regarded, in principle and with-
out exception, as not derived from facts, as facts are not derived from values. David
Hume was the first to understand this distinction though limiting the issue to moral
questions (see Hume, 2007, p. 302). Values are the stands taken on facts though they
are not a property of those facts, but something that lies beyond them. As a matter of
principle, values are derived from other values, and facts are derived from other facts.
The deductive chain of values is independent of the causal chain of facts. Believing
that each one can be derived from the other, values from facts or facts from values,
most likely results from incorrectly assuming that values, since they are applied to
facts, are also derived from that to which they are applied – from facts.
These distinctions do not prevent people from deriving “ought” from “is.”
However, in this case, facts are grasped from the perspective of their status. This
means considering a fact as already having a value property belonging to it by its
very being given. Deriving “ought” from “is”, means regarding facts as an authority.
This is however not a derivation. It is instead a sanctification of facts by their mere
status as facts. Regarding facts as authority means assuming that “What is, is what
ought to be” – this is the only normative conclusion, and it contradicts the very
distinction between “is” and “ought”.
Coming back from this journey to the origins of democracy, we may be better
prepared for understanding the swing of democracies toward formal procedures for
decision-making. There are several principles that result from the awareness that
democracy lacks a source of legitimacy and the need of ensuring the co-existence
of different, controversial and even opposite values.
The awareness of the lack of a source of legitimacy leads democracies to sup-
port principles intended to prevent their degradation towards the belief in experts
instead of the primary implicit understanding that value disputes cannot be solved
unless they do not exist, namely, unless people share the same values and the same
order of value priorities. Here are two of those principles, succinctly explained:
1. Suffrage
The central expression of the awareness of the lack of a source of legitimacy is the
formality of decisions by universal right to vote. Voting indeed, is the most con-
spicuous expression of irrationality. Instead of arguments, there is a showing of
hands or, better, the secret ballot procedure. That means the rule by the decision of
the majority, ignoring who is wise and who ignorant of relevant facts. Citizens are
not expected to be rational agents nor to be experts on issues subjected to voting.
138 Oded Balaban
Universal suffrage, however, has its critics. Bryan Caplan complains that vot-
ers in democracies are not merely ignorant about the issues under consideration,
but they are also irrational in their voting (see Caplan, 2006, pp. 114–41; see also
Huemer, 2013, pp. 209–14).
Others on the contrary, like James Surowiecki sought to defend the intelligence
of the masses (Surowiecki, 2004). There is a vast literature on the issue (my choices
are: Le Bon, 2002; MacKay, 1932). Both points of view share the same assumption:
either criticized or acclaimed, knowledge and ignorance are, ultimately, the basis
for voting, which is but an inversion of the principle of the lack of legitimacy.
The separation of powers has become axiomatic for modern constitutional democ-
racies. Separation of powers means the division of the functions of government
from one another, means a counsel against the concentration of too much polit-
ical power in the hands of any one person, group or agency (see Waldron, 2013,
p. 438). The discrete branches are generally called the executive, legislative and ju-
dicial branches of government. The separation determines the role of each branch
in the process of making laws, ruling according to laws, and their interpretation
and application to particular cases. The legislature makes the laws, the judiciary
interprets them, and the executive makes decisions according to them. The name of
the executive should rather be the “ruling” or “governing” power, because govern-
ments do not execute laws but rule according to laws or in the framework of laws.
Like voting, the separation of powers is also an irrational principle. It is adopted
because of the distrust of the rational power of the ruler, who was elected by general
suffrage. It is a request for controls, checks and balances in order to avoid tyranny.
If ruling were a rational question deduced from knowledge, there were no need for
the separation of powers. It is interesting to note in this regard Locke’s argument
about the separation of powers. It comes in order to restrict the temptation
for the same Persons who have the power of making Laws, to have also in their
hands the power to execute them, whereby they may exempt themselves from
Obedience to the Laws they make, and suit the Law, both in its making and exe-
cution, to their own private advantage. (Locke, 1980, p. 76)
The idea is that people will not act rationally or for a common good unless they
are obliged to be subjected to the laws that they have themselves promulgated. It
should be an extrinsic force that obliges free individuals that, without the constraint
of the separation of power, will not be concerned with laws. Locke’s point of view
can be criticized, obviously, but my sole intention here is to show that nothing will
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 139
prevent humans from legislating laws and regulations that could run against the
general interest, whatever it might be.
Simply because of the lack of a source of legitimacy for political decisions,
just because of the arbitrariness of laws, to ensure lesser evil or greater justice, or
to ensure the best possible free society, a democratic regime will be reinforced by
the separation of powers. It is indeed a formal device alone, but one that imposes
restrictions on political government.
However, as in many other cases, also in this case there is similarly a tendency
of the mind to invert the terms. Instead of trying to understand the idea of the
separation of powers as a result, the tendency is to justify its “rational” arguments
as if it were a precondition for the normal function of the state. Hegel applied
this inversion taking it to the extreme. He distinguished between three powers
according to his understanding of the logical division of concepts in general. The
concept is divided into three parts: universal, particular, individual (Hegel, 2010,
II, Section I, Chapter 1). So, accordingly, the division of powers, where each power
represents another aspect of the concept: the legislative power determines the uni-
versal side of the State, the governing power represents the particular side, and the
power of the crown the individual side. By means of this division, Hegel supports
a constitutional monarchy where the three together constitute the perfection of
the State. As in Locke, the judicial power is not part of the formation of the State
but lies beyond its constitutive sphere. The judicial only keeps the civil order; it is
an administrative function acting from outside (cf. Hegel, 1995, § 272 § 273). The
division is rational and constitutive of the State, so that it is not regarded as a result
but as a principle, something typical of processes of a-posteriori rationalization.
The separation of powers into three separated branches of government, though
originated in ancient Greece, was theoretically established by Montesquieu (1989,
p. 157). It was supported by John Locke and opposed by Thomas Hobbes (for a
discussion on the issue, see Manning, 2011; Waldron, 2013).
The separation of powers and suffrage are devices resulting from the incapacity
to reaching agreements based on value disputes, struggles, and controversies by
rational means, or by a knowledge of certain facts. In fact values lack foundation
and this acknowledgment is the starting point for the idea of democracy.
The separation of powers remains unjustified and can be perfectly presented as
the result of the impossibility to find a commonly accepted basis for values and po-
litical decisions. Under those conditions, at least, the damage of political decisions
to those who do not agree with them, will remain as a lesser evil.
140 Oded Balaban
I would like, finally, to add a few words about the relationships between the knowl-
edge of facts and the applications of values, or in short, the relationships between
facts and values.
The encounter between values and facts takes place only in practical thinking,
that can be defined as a synthesis of knowledge of facts and the application of values.
But even in this case, values and facts remain clearly distinguished from each other.
The distinction between values and facts can help to clearly separate practical
from non-practical thinking. Let me start by asking what does it mean to have a
non-practical thinking or to be non-practical.
Non-practical thinking separates values from facts without bringing them into
a synthesis. It can be of two kinds.
1. A thinking that Spinoza calls Infinite Intellect (Spinoza, 1994, Prop. 4, Part I;
prop. 4, 7. 11, 16, Part II) and Max Planck calls Ideal Intellect. Planck describes
it as an intellect “intimately familiar with the most minute details of physical
processes occurring concurrently everywhere” (Planck, 1968, p. 147)
Such intellect cannot derive what to do solely from its knowledge, because
it only refers to “what is,” it knows and understands alone, without changing
anything in its object of thought.
2. A thinking with an ordered and clear value system about the political regime
(or any other fact being thought of) in which its possessor would like to live,
but lacking knowledge about the actual political and social situation in which
he spends his life. The subjects possessing this kind of thought are unable to
recommend what to do because they lack the required knowledge about their
actual state of affairs. They cannot point for instance at the necessary means to
be taken in their (ignored) real world in order to achieve their goals or ideals.
Both are opposite extreme instances of ideal minds that are unable to make practical
decisions – the first mind because it has not values, the second because it has not
relevant knowledge.
Keeping this distinction in mind, we can better understand that democracy is
a regime resulting from value struggles while science means the commitment to
know, explain, describe and understand facts, not only natural, but even the anal-
ysis and knowledge of regimes in general and democratic regimes in particular.
The study of democracies is not a matter of values. Only supporting democracy or
rejecting it is a question of values or taking stances for or against it.
That nobody has authority to impose values on anybody else, is understand-
able only when coming to the conclusions that knowledge and taking a stand are
142 Oded Balaban
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Annual Review of Law and Ethics, 12, 349–381.
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of California Press.
Habermas, J. (1979). Legitimation Problems in the Modern State. In Communication and the
Evolution of Society, Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.
Habermas, J. (1981). Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns 1. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp.
Habermas, J. (1992). Faktizität und Geltung. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp.
Habermas, J. (1996). Between Facts and Norms: Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and
Democracy. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT.
Hegel, G. W. F. (1995 [1821]). Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts. Hamburg: Felix Meiner.
Hegel, G. W. F. (2010 [1813]) The Science of Logic, Cambridge University Press.
Huemer, M. (2013). The Problem of Political Authority. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.
Hume, D. (2007 [1740]) A Treatise of Human Nature. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Le Bon, G. (2002 [1895]) The Crowd. New York: Dover.
Locke, J. (1980 [1690]). Second Treatise of Government. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing.
MacKay, C. (1932 [1852]). Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds. Boston:
L. C. Page.
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doi: 10.1177/0090591787015003005
Chapter 7. Science and legitimacy in democracies 143
The Terra Terra Project has given us the opportunity to implement a series of theo-
retical acquisitions based on the ethics of communication. In particular, we tested:
(a) the practical relevance of communication skills, (b) the value of context in the
delineation of communication modes, and (c) the role of alterity in the definition
of communication practices. Furthermore, two general observations have accom-
panied the implementation of our project.
1. In general, if the first two areas (communication skills and value of the con-
text) require for their theoretical definition a reference to practice, the third
area – alterity – is often considered mainly from a theoretical point of view.
Unlike most traditional approaches, our research has shown how the notion of
alterity can help to guide communicative behaviors, thus becoming an intrinsic
criterion for verifying the appropriateness of communication processes. For
these reasons, all the three above mentioned areas cannot be neglected. They
are indispensable conditions for identifying when communicative modes are
not only effective, but also ethical.
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.10sca
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
146 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
2. The second observation concerns the same process and the identity of the ac-
tors involved in it. While we were working to develop the project, we realized
that the process itself had an indirect result. On the one hand, in fact, we were
questioning the possibility of a philosophy of communication and listening; on
the other hand, it was through the practical experience of listening to experts
from different disciplines that the project was outlined. For this reason, it seems
to us that the relevance of this project is not limited to the scientific-industrial
scope, but that it is significant for the implications on the level of interdiscipli-
nary communication, although unfortunately there is no room in this essay to
develop this point. Moreover, in the work of reconciling the practical and the
theoretical dimension, which inspires choices, it is such capacity to dialogue
between experts from other disciplines that defines the identity of those who
participate in the project.
What we talk about is inscribed in the difference between the sofòs, the erudite,
and the phrònimos, the wise. Both aim at knowledge, though with a fundamental
difference. The former, in fact, pursues knowledge regardless of the conditions in
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 147
which it is obtained. The latter, however, considers first of all the occurrences of
that knowledge in context. By recalling the phrònesis, the wise is able to conciliate
eidetics and facticity, so avoiding the disembodied erudition.
The communicative skills have the merit of filling the gap between theory
and practice.
If one wants to integrate the theory of communication with the practice, one
should face, on the one hand, the snobbery of those who would like to preserve
philosophical studies from any possible contamination with the facticity of the
concrete situations of the human being, and on the other hand, the merely func-
tionalistic approach of those who believe that communication is actually the result
of the acquisition of “techniques.”
In general terms, it can be said that the ethical task is to point out the paths to
be followed in order to live well. The origin and source of legitimacy of the rules
for living well can vary, but what remains constant is the practical approach, not
being content that the solutions identified can be valid only at a theoretical level.
From this perspective, therefore, ethics brings within it a tendency towards the
applicability of its own principles.
The point of connection between ethics, above all in its variant of communi-
cation ethics, and effectiveness is rediscovered in this evidence. It is, as we said, an
intrinsic connection. Precisely in this light, it is probably possible to deduce new
characteristics for the efficacy that indicates, starting from its etymological root,
the ability to obtain what one wants.
The ethical situation described above presents an important analogy with a
characteristic of communication. In fact, communication is ad alterum in its exe-
cution. This means that it is expressed, concrete, becomes significant in function
of the others, as a kind of bridge able to connect distant territories.
The maximum expression of the effectiveness of communication is the ability
to define as precisely as possible the characteristics of the interlocutor. If one wants
to use a metaphor, the difference between effective communication and ordinary
communication is similar to the difference between a dress made by a tailor based
on the customer’s personalized measurements and a dress made with ordinary
measurements.
Outside metaphor, starting from the customer’s measurements is equivalent for
the philosopher with being able to configure as exactly as possible his interlocutor
or the recipient of his message.
However, even such an ability would not escape the risk of being the expression
of a functionalistic theory of communication in which the central element is, as we
know, constituted by the idea that communication itself equals the transmission
of a message. Precisely for this reason, the ability to configure the interlocutor as
exactly as possible should not be separated from the ability to see in the other that
one is faced with an otherness.
148 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
The most famous readability index was developed in 1948 by Rudolf Flesch. It con-
siders two linguistic variables: the length of the word (number of syllables) and the
average length of the sentence (the number of its syllables divided by the number
of words). Generally, there are two opposing but connected attitudes towards these
techniques. On the one hand, one may risk giving them a sort of taumaturgical
power, capable of solving any problems internal to the text. On the other hand, a
feeling of aprioristic distrust can be developed, referring to the ability of a formula
to make possible the comprehension of a text. In our research experience, as well
as in the feedback received at the international conferences where we presented the
Terra Terra project, we have found both attitudes.
Although scientific literature has nowadays ratified the field of the readability
indexes, in our view, the perplexities that we experienced can be avoided by taking
up some aspects of the original debate, when scholars discussed the potential of
the indexes in the attempt to fully define their features.
To be explicit, in an article titled “Formula for Predicting Readability” pub-
lished in 1948 by Edgar Dale and Jeanne S. Chall, the scope of the readability
indexes was well known. With reference to the formula that would best interpret
the need for simplification of the texts, the authors write:
We do not claim that the formula developed here is definitive. The nature of
multiple-correlation coefficient makes this point rather obvious. We do believe,
however, that it is [a] short cut in judging the difficulty of written materials. The
formula can also be used as an aid to text simplification..
(Dale & Chall, 1948, p. 19)
In other words, the same authors who supported the importance of adopting read-
ability indexes did not fail to highlight their limits, to the point of noting that: “The
formula can also be used as an aid to text simplification” since “Writing should not
be any harder to read and understand than it needs to be” (Dale & Chall, 1948, p. 19).
Nowadays, based on what we have directly experienced, we have kept a critical
attitude in adopting readability indexes, without however appreciating their use-
fulness. Often, the result of this process is that the prose of many scientific articles
is unreadable, because each author is convinced either that it is an irrelevant factor
or, conversely, that he is a talented writer.
An additional factor can be found in a document titled Automated Readability
Index, commissioned in 1967 by Aerospace Medical Research Laboratories. After
explaining that the Air Force is interested in discovering the method of easily ex-
tracting information from the documents and after examining the more affirmed
150 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
methods at that time, the research comes to the following conclusions which still
seem very realistic today:
There are many factors involved in applying any readability index. A major con-
sideration especially relevant when considering the adult reader is his background
in the content area. If the written material is in his area of competency, readability
would be less important than if it were in a subject matter area with which he had
had little previous contact. […]. Additionally, the intent of the reader is possibly
the most important factor. A person reading for recreation or general interest
would probably prefer books with a relatively low readability index. The same
reader searching for the solution to a specific problem of concern to him might
successfully undertake the reading of a much more difficult source. Generally,
the readability of a book as determined by the Automated Readability Index can
only account for a portion of the factors involved in selecting appropriate written
material. The background, interests and motivation of the reader and the writing
style and skill of the author are possibly more important but beyond the scope of
this, or any other known mathematical formula. (Smith & Senter, 1967, p. 13)
At a more general level, we find it significant that in Smith and Senter’s text a ref-
erence is made to documents about the readability indexes written in the 1920s. As
we strive to oppose those indexes, we risk not realizing that the study of this field
has an important background and that it probably deserves greater consideration,
even before being criticized. It is with this conviction that we have decided to adopt
the readability indexes in the Terra Terra project.
2.2 Gamification
According to WTCD (2015), in the last 200 years, in relation to the world popu-
lation growth, a persistent concern has emerged about the possibility to increase
agrifood production. However, the food supply has considerably increased through
the adoption of capital-intensive agrifood techniques (Loewenson, 1992), biotech-
nology and genetics sciences (Twardowski, 2010), the ability to save farming from
parasites, and the capability to safeguard food during the transport phase (Pandey
& Agrawal, 2014). The question arises as to whether this improvement process
could continue to satisfy the needs of a growing world population. The answer is
probably “yes” from a quantity point of view, but “maybe” from a product quality
point of view. Effectively, from the market arises a substantial change of the food
use model. The customer appears careful about personal health and worried about
foods’ properties, origin and freshness.
For example, such modern science-based farming techniques as genetic modifi-
cation are often discussed and negatively perceived. Consumers are troubled about
food production sustainability, and the situation is aggravated by the quantity of
resources needed along the agrifood value chain. A new social behaviour called
“sustainable consumption” is born, regarding the possibility of the
use of goods and related products which respond to basic needs and bring a better
quality of life, while minimising the use of natural resources and toxic materials as
well as the emissions of waste and pollutants over the life cycle.
(Seyfang, 2006, p. 384)
The scope is not to compromise the future of the next generations. Matching sus-
tainable consumption with the current production principle is a formidable chal-
lenge, where the consumer plays the main role: basing his chooses on the value of
social responsibility, he represents a new target of the agrifood market. The dualistic
view proposed by Sagoff (1988) is overcome: “consumption choices” and “con-
sumer interests” are not divided or in competition as respective parts of public and
private spheres, but become parts of the same sphere (Dobson, 2003). The figure
of “citizen consumer” has been born (Coff, Korthals, & Barling, 2008; Johnston,
2008; Lockie, 2009; Scammell, 2003; Schröder & McEachern, 2004): a responsible
person, ethically motived to modify their lifestyle, in order to reach a model of
sustainable consumption. The literature proposes various instances of this model
that gives emphasis to several values – environmental, social, and food awareness –
defining, respectively, ecological citizenship (Dobson, 2003), planetary citizenship
(Alexander, 2004), and food citizenship. Particularly, the latter is defined as “the
practice of engaging in food-related behaviours that support, rather than threaten,
154 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
The agrifood system shows companies (farmers or industries) that follow the na-
tional regulations and use marketing strategies to promote their products. So, prod-
uct information and market information are unconnected. Product information is
located within the company in several places and formats (Grant, 1996; Spender,
1996), but marketing strategies are rarely founded on them. So, on the one hand
we have companies that declaim the products, on the other we have the skepticism
of consumers. Two main issues foster this skepticism: the first concerns marketing
campaigns with a low level of comparison to reality; the second concerns the high
complexity level of the agrifood industry, which is characterized by a high variety
of products and a high number of actors that play several roles in the value chain.
Terra Terra, placed in the middle, aims at creating a virtual gate that enables
the consumer to discover the product. The proposed framework encompasses
methodological and technological solutions that synergically aim at raising the
same focus: agrifood product valorization using traceability as a market strategy.
Realizing a technological platform able to collect data from the entire process of
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 155
the agrifood value chain needs a multidisciplinary approach that leverages industry
4.0 principles. Particularly, business process modeling, the Internet of Things, and
mobile technologies will allow the several value chain actors to collect information,
automatically encouraging the traceability. Not only is this information useful to
companies in order to make their business process more efficient, it also will be
useful in order to promote their products.
Sure enough, the consumer will be able to consult the information collected
by Terra Terra during all phases needed to bring the food from field to fork. How?
Consumers, using their smartphone and photographing the QRcode placed on the
products’ label, will access a virtual world describing the product using an inter-
active and attractive strategy. Furthermore, he will share the food experience with
a community of specialists and friends. Tomorrow, using Terra Terra solutions, all
the product information spread across the company will be collected into a single
IT platform. This information will be used to create a marketing strategy based on
trust and transparency and it will be shown to the consumer using a mobile app.
Terra Terra aims to collect information in all phases needed to bring the agrifood
product from farm to fork: farm, processing, packaging, distribution and selling.
An analysis of the business process realized using Business Process modeling tech-
niques aims to clearly define the information flow between the several roles behind
the company and between the several actors along the agrifood value chain. So, it
is possible to act in several levels, intra and inter companies.
Applying process modeling, it is possible to define each activity realized by each
actor and to identify the information that it is possible to collect.
Data will be collected (i) automatically by sensors, (ii) retrieved automatically
from other software, or (iii) using manual data entry from operators. Sensors will
be used following the Internet of Things paradigms, based on two key features:
The items require intelligence, sharing of data, and access to data analysis. The
sensor will be distributed along fields, processing plants, and transportation ve-
hicles, transforming these components into smart items able to identify, locate,
measure and connect, and implementing a new communication mode between
156 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
people and people, things and things, things and people (Dohr, Modre-Opsrian,
Drobics, Hayn, & Schreier, 2010). For example, sensors placed into a farm field
can monitor the environmental conditions where the food is produced, measuring
pollution levels in the water, soil and air.
Each product (or raw material) is identified using a unique code. All informa-
tion collected during the product farming, processing, packaging and delivery will
be related to this code in order to create its history. So, a mechanism to recover and
manage data is needed. But it isn’t enough.
Even if sensor technology infuses intelligence into our wallets, clothing, au-
tomobiles, buildings, cities and biology, the Internet has serious limitations for
business and economic activities. Online, we can’t establish the identity of one
another, or the reliability of data exchanged (Tapscott & Tapscott, 2016). So, in
order to achieve reliability of data collected and exchanged within the proposed
platform, a trust protocol is needed. A question arises: Can a single entity manage
all the data about every product along the agrifood supply chain and at the same
time guarantee trust? If the product’s data along the supply chain were gathered
by a third party, it could be impartial and able to deliver the technical capability in
order to manage the whole system. The risk that the single entity becomes a point
of weakness is high, representing a target for bribery or hacking. At the same time,
distributing the trust protocol among various third parties implies an increase of
cost and operative difficulties (Provenance, 2016).
A new technology, called Blockchain, allows the use of a centralized system
with a distributed governing mechanism managed automatically by third entities
on the network. Thus, it is possible to certify the data collected by sensors in order
to guarantee the data avoids forgery. Blockchain technology uses a global peer-to-
peer network to realize an open platform that can delivery neutrality, reliability and
security of exchanged information. The logic and data are distributed in several
machines (nodes) creating a public and shared “book.” This book is automatically
updated on network nodes. Each information is accepted only if it is authenticated:
a data pocket is verified using a private-public cryptographic key following a dis-
tributed “mining” process. The digital signature allows someone to provide their
identity, and each node contributes to the data validation according to the logic
provided by the Blockchain system.
A specific behavior isn’t required of supply chain actors or customers, but the
technology offers a solution to provide trust and integrity. So, the data collected
by distributed sensors will not be locked within a single server of a specific value
chain actor, rather the data will be stored in a shared distributed database. The
information will be accessed and verified by all actors and not only by the entities
that give the certificate.
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 157
about the product. This level is conceived to give an answer to the customer’s cu-
riosity in a moment after purchase.
The communication model of Terra Terra starts from the choice to explain the
product from several points of view related to different consumer needs.
So, it is conceived in order to give several aggregated levels of information, and
to give an answer both when a customer has limited time to explore the product,
and when the customer has more time. So, the communication model leverages
three levels of information:
–– First level: give synthetic information about the product from six points of view;
–– Second level: give synthetic information about several issues related to each
point of view;
–– Third level: give detailed information about the product and farmer history;
So, the model has a pyramidal shape, able to increase the level of information told
from point to base.
The six points of view that describe the product are the following:
Environmental footprint
This view describes the environmental impact of the product on environmental
sustainability. For example, in the environmental footprint view the customer can
see the packaging material, the carbon footprint, polluting substances in the soil,
and so on. In order to explain the role of indicators, we consider, as an instance, one
of the various indicators constituting the environmental footprint view: the carbon
footprint. This indicator is a measure of the exclusive total amount of carbon diox-
ide emissions that is directly and indirectly caused by an activity or is accumulated
over the life stages of a product (Wiedmann & Minx, 2008). When buying a food
product, in addition to wanting to know if the production process was chemically
intensive, a consumer may wish to know the carbon footprint of the product. Food
can be energy-intensive, given factory processing and distribution methods pow-
ered by fossil fuels (also known as “food miles”) (Czarnezki, 2011).
Product composition
In the product composition view the customer can see the value of single ele-
ments in the composition of the products, such as carbohydrates, sugar or omega-3.
Following the EU product labeling rules for goods, sold within the Single Market,
some of the standard basic information must be shown to the consumer. The
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 159
Wellness
In the wellness view the customer can obtain information about calories, allergens,
intolerance and so on. Moreover, there is a section called “What science says” re-
porting the highlights of international research essays. These reports will be written
adopting the readability indexes, in order to make sure that the text is clear to all
consumers.
Product acceptance
The product acceptance view shows what the community says about the product. In
this section, consumers can conduct an evaluation of products or companies. The
presence of a community allows grouping people who share a common interest,
passion or common point of view, encouraging public virtual relationships among
users in order to expand their network, activating participation of different users
and involving more consumption classes.
Lifestyle
The lifestyle view describes the certification obtained by the farmer. From the con-
sumers’ point of view, the certifications, currently, are a guarantee about quality
and sustainability of the agrifood value chain. A simple symbol on the label or
packaging can lead a consumer to choose a specific product. This section reunites
all certifications (gluten-free, organic food, slow food, halal certification, quality,
and so on) of the product.
Take responsibility
At last, the section “take responsibility” represents a showcase where the farmer tells
about himself, using several information tools such as traditional text and photos
or storytelling, and data about the production process. In this section, the company
has the possibility to communicate its values to the community. The purpose of this
view is to enable companies to upload various contents in order to detect needs
and emotions of consumers. The marketing tools are many, and in this section they
can be put into practice.
160 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
As explained above, the communication model offers to the customer several com-
munication layers. Each layer uses one or more tools to describe the contents. The
first tool shows the contents related to the six product points of view in the cube
(see Figure 1). As we mentioned above in Section 2.2, the cube represents a ludic
tool, which will be used to capture the interest of the consumer, who by turning it
on the smartphone’s screen could explore the product.
Figure 1.
Each face of the cube is dedicated to a single point of view and shows, using a graph-
ical representation, the goodness of the product. The Figure 2 shows the graphical
representation of the environmental footprint view.
Environmental
footprint
1/5
Low High
Figure 2.
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 161
Environmental footprint
1/5
Indicators
Packaging
Plastic
Carbon footprint
3 kg
Figure 3.
162 Giovanni Scarafile and Maria Elena Latino
Figure 4.
Conclusion
Terra Terra represents a strategy to connect several actors with different roles giving
support to communication. So Terra Terra will act as a process of science democ-
racy, where the communication evolves in order to satisfy new customer needs
through a new communication paradigm for food, based on the ethics and trans-
parency model, able to transmit scientific contents using familiar technologies to
customers.
The Terra Terra Project is the result of a concrete dialogue between disciplines.
Usually, one of the main difficulties in this field is not the theory of such a dialogue,
but the practice. It is objectively difficult for practices of dialogue to be started.
Our project managed to accomplish this task. 2 Philosophy comes out of its
niche and meets science. Science finds that the way to get results is to open up to
dialogue with philosophy, sometimes intended as an antagonist. For this reason,
2. We are grateful to prof. Angelo Corallo, who gave us the possibility to work together in the
Core Lab, at the University of Salento.
Chapter 8. The ethics of communication and the Terra Terra project 163
in conclusion, we would like to quote Popper’s words: “My point [is] that the clas-
sification into disciplines is comparatively unimportant, and that we are students
not of disciplines but of problems” (Popper, 1962, p. 67).
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Chapter 9
Mauro Stenico
University of Trento
Introduction
The premises
At the beginning of the 20th century, the Universe was conceived as infinite, eternal
and Euclidean. General relativity, the discovery that the Milky Way was not the
only galaxy and the role of such empirical data as the extragalactic redshifts threw
traditional cosmology into a crisis. During the Twenties, the Universe began to be
conceived as a finite, curved and expanding reality, thanks to innovative contri-
butions carried out by the Russian mathematician Aleksandr Friedmann and the
cosmologist and catholic priest Georges Lemaître. Lemaître hypothesized the origin
of the Universe in the form of a primeval atom whose violent explosion had caused
the cosmic expansion. He interpreted the extragalactic redshifts – i.e. the fact that
the light emitted by most of the observed galaxies revealed a displacement toward
the red end of their luminous spectrum – in the sense of the Doppler-Fizeau effect:
in other words, galaxies were flying away. This was not the result of a free motion
of galaxies in the space, but the product of an expansion of the space-time substra-
tum making galaxies themselves move (Lemaître, 1927, 1946). An international
competition for the interpretation of empirical data was opened and generated a
number of models. Step by step, the theory of the ‘dynamic’ Universe took the form
of the modern Big Bang theory, which justifies the cosmic expansion as a result of a
catastrophic explosion which happened 13–14 billion years ago. However, despite
the most considerable empirical discoveries of the 20th century cosmology – the
cosmic microwave background radiation (CMBR, 1964) and those of the COBE sat-
ellite (1992), generally but not unanimously interpreted in favor of the Big Bang –
the debate is not over.
To get an idea of the core of Soviet cosmology, one has to know the main aspects
of the diamat, the philosophical outlook of communism. Since its origins, materi-
alism sees matter as the sole principle to explain everything in the Universe. In the
19th century the German philosopher Friedrich Engels elaborated its ‘dialectical’
declination. All material dynamics were guided by three laws: passage of quantita-
tive changes into qualitative ones; unity and conflict of the opposites; negation of
negation. In Engels’ opinion the laws of dialectics came from observations and legit-
imized a truly ‘scientific’ research. “Matter without motion is unthinkable” (Engels,
1952a, p. 62): matter and motion (evolution) were bound together from all eter-
nity and they constantly gave birth to new finite and corruptible material entities
Chapter 9. The political use of science 167
3. Partiinost’ (партийность)
From the new economic policy (NEP) to the first five-years plan (1928)
The NEP was officially adopted by the 10th Congress of the Party (1921) in order to
stop the violence of War Communism. At the beginning of the Twenties, the diamat
was not yet imposed on sciences in its most rigid way. Some Marxist philosophers
were already attacking such aspects of Western cosmology as the conception of a
spatially finite Cosmos. Nevertheless, the Russian-American physicist Paul Epstein
defines the NEP period as a golden age for Soviet scientists, who as private citizens
could accept the diamat “or treat it with skepticism but, on the whole, were free of
conscientious scruples in their profession because the scientific philosophy (…) had
not yet crystallized” (Epstein, 1952, p. 31). Working on Albert Einstein’s relativistic
equations, Friedmann developed the first models of a dynamic Universe (Friedmann,
1922): one of them assumed a cosmic beginning in the form of a mathematical
‘singularity’. Under Stalin such a proposal will be practically banned from science.
In 1924 the astronomer Vasiliy Fesenkov founded the prestigious Astronomičesky
žurnal (Astronomical journal). In 1928 the 4th Astronomical Congress was held in
Leningrad and the astronomer Grigory Šain described his time as a very interest-
ing period in the history of astronomy (Ičsanova, 1995, p. 111). In the same year,
thanks to the intervention of the Dutch astronomer Willem de Sitter, then president
of the International Astronomical Union (IAU), four Soviet astronomers were al-
lowed to attend the IAU General Assembly in Leiden (Netherlands). The Pulkovo
Observatory, near Leningrad, became an international center of attraction. Anyway,
one should never forget that Lenin was putting forward the premises for the subse-
quent definitive partition between ‘progressive’ and ‘bourgeois’ science. He indicated
the edification of a ‘proletarian’ culture as one the most significative missions of the
young generation. Materialist science had to serve communism helping the edifi-
cation of a classless society and destroying the false bourgeois theories supporting
religious ‘opium’ (Lenin, 1969).
Chapter 9. The political use of science 169
A great change happened in 1927, when Stalin’s strategy of the Socialism in one
country triumphed at the 15th Congress of the Party. Lev Trotsky was exiled and the
other political ‘antagonists’ would have been purged within a few years. Stalin’s idea
was clear: before even thinking of a world revolution (Kamenev, Zinoviev), Soviet
people had to defend and strengthen the Revolution in the sole country in which it
had been achieved so far. The people of this country was the only true proponent of
the Marxist values in science: the scientific autarky required the elimination of every
philosophical ‘deviation’. No mercy for the ‘enemies of the people’, especially toward
religion (Stalin, 1929). Stalin’s first act of force was to stop the NEP, which had given
too much freedom to the nepmany and the kulaki, who were liquidated in the name
of the Revolution. The beginning of the first five-years plan (1928–1932) marked
the beginning of the cultural (Stalinian) revolution. The 16th Congress of the Party
(1930) officialized the condemnation of the ‘saboteurs’ who were threatening Soviet
Union (Stalin, 1930). The rapid ideologization (bolshevization) of sciences became
possible thanks to the political control exerted on all publications and the infiltra-
tion of both the scientific institutions and editorial boards of the scientific journals
with ideologues appointed by the Party. For some years, first-class astronomical ob-
servatories as Pulkovo were directed by non-astronomers. At the beginning of the
Thirties the Astronomical Committee was established by the Narkompros (People’s
Commissariat for Education). The professional astronomer Boris Numerov was
appointed as director. In the meanwhile, Stalin’s sermons against religion were ex-
erting a certain influence on Soviet astronomers, who in 1930 wrote a letter to the
Pope (Ter-Oganezov, 1930). The document was signed by such notable astronomers
as Fesenkov, Pavel Parenago, Boris Vorontsov-Velyaminov and many others. Its
main promoter was the astronomer and fanatical ideologist Vartan Ter-Oganezov,
who had practically no technical publication on the astronomical subject matter but
was very loyal to the Party, a circumstance which permitted him a certain scientific
career (Bronšten-McCutcheon, 1995). The accusations against the Catholic Church
included collusion with capitalism and refusal of the ‘true’ diamatist conception
of the Nature. In 1932 the Astronomičesky žurnal published an article devoted to
the tasks of astronomy during the second five-years plan (1933–1937), which in-
cluded “the furthering of scientific propaganda for combating all sorts of prejudices,
mainly of a religious nature” (On the planning, 1932, p. 318). 1 A general appeal to
1. As in other cases in Soviet literature (e.g. the Great soviet encyclopedia), here is it not possible
to identify the author of the article.
170 Mauro Stenico
all scientists of the world to undertake the Revolution was then presented in the
same year by the same journal. Sure, the revolutionary way required considerable
sacrifices, but only “those who willfully shut their eyes believe that a revolution,
whose equals has not been known in any of the preceding phases of historical
development, can be a process without pain” (The appeal, 1932, p. 127). Stalin’s
personal help was assured and the appeal was signed also by Nikolai Bucharin,
Aleksandr Karpinsky, president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, the physicists
Sergei Vavilov and Abraham Ioffe.
The cult of Stalin’s personality was growing rapidly. At the 1st Congress of Soviet
Writers (1934) the politician Andrei Ždanov invited artists to “create works of high
ideological content (…) to remold the mentality of people in the spirit of socialism”
(Ždanov, 1935, p. 24). Stalin was the genius and teacher, the only leader who could
help men of culture to get rid of the last “survivals of capitalism in the consciousness
of people” (Ždanov, 1935, p. 17). The American astronomer of Ukrainian origins
Otto Struve was horrified about the celebration of Lenin and Stalin as great scientists
(Struve, 1935, p. 251). However this was not but the beginning. In 1947 Ždanov will
define Stalin’s teachings as “the teachings of the entire people”: following them “our
philosophy should flourish” (Ždanov, 1950: 112). In 1951 Parenago will call Stalin
«the greatest genius of all mankind” (Parenago, 1951, p. 109). After his return from
Europe to Russia in 1931, the astrophysicist Georgy Gamow realized that the general
Soviet atmosphere had changed:
When I visited friends from the Moscow University, they looked at me in bewil-
derment, asking why on earth I had come back (…) During the almost two years of
my absence great changes had taken place in the attitude of the Soviet government
toward science (…) Whereas earlier in the history of the post-Revolutionary recon-
struction the government was anxious to re-establish contact with science “beyond
the borders” and was proud of Russian scientists who were invited to scientific
gathering in Western Europe and America, Russian science now had become one
of the weapons for fighting the capitalistic world (…) Stalin created the notion
of capitalistic and proletarian science. It became a crime for Russian scientists to
“fraternize” with scientists of the capitalistic countries (…) Any deviation from
the correct (by definition) dialectical-materialistic ideology was considered to be
a threat to the working class and was severely persecuted.
(Gamow, 1970, pp. 92–93)
In 1933 Gamow and his wife were able to leave the Soviet Union forever. His former
compatriots will call him ‘traitor’ and ‘renegade’ until the end of the Fifties.
As in all dictatorships, the tendency to reinterpret the history of science in the
light of the coeval ideology became a common element in the scientific journals. In
1933 a group of scientists from all fields celebrated the diamat in Priroda (Nature)
Chapter 9. The political use of science 171
declaring it had been the instrument for the greatest discoveries in the history of all
sciences (Soviet scientists on Marx, 1933). Western science was decadent: the physi-
cist Dmitry Blokhintsev affirmed that the time had come to get rid of the “idealistic
concepts which soak into our physics from bourgeois science” (Blokhintsev, 1937,
p. 549). In cosmology the sole ‘true’ model was the Engelsian one: an eternal, in-
finite and self-sufficient Cosmos. The curvature of the cosmic space on a large scale
and its global expansion were nothing but the result of the Western ‘mathematical
formalism’, i.e. the use of formulas without connection with physical reality. Robert
McCutcheon explains that at that time Soviet astronomers were participating in
the international cosmological debate only on the philosophical level, but not on
the instrumental one, given their material poverty:
The cosmological revolution must have taken Soviet astronomers by surprise.
Telescope-poor, they simple did not have the types of instruments needed for ex-
tragalactic astrophysics, and thus they were observers, not participants, in the ad-
vances leading to the expanding universe (…) With the exception of Gerasimovič,
Fesenkov, and a handful of other young astrophysicists, most Soviet astronomers
probably did not have the training necessary for this type of research.
(McCutcheon, 1985, p. 100)
At the 17th Congress of the Party (January-February 1934) Sergei Kirov and his
political ideas obtained more consensus than Stalin himself. Kirov’s ‘mysterious’
assassination at the end of 1934 was used by Stalin and – never to forget – his com-
panions to start one of the most bloody repressions of the human history: the Great
Purges (1936–1938). Scientists, philosophers, intellectuals, writers, artists, priests,
politicians and normal people were not spared. If philosophical deviations were not
enough for arrests or executions, they could anyway act as an aggravating factor
to ‘demonstrate’ someone’s guilt. In this atmosphere, the Stalinian astronomy was
brought to maturity: the process was neither linear nor uniform, but the analysis
of many coeval contributions permits to get an idea about the strategies used to
fight Western cosmology.
The Soviet authorities were conducting the purges, but such figures as Ter-Oganezov
and the Marxist physicist Vladimir L’vov did their best to denigrate the scientists
who had fallen into disgrace. Ter-Oganezov, for example, denounced those ‘ene-
mies’ who were sabotaging the Soviet astronomical institutions:
174 Mauro Stenico
The organs of NKVD have discovered a band of enemies of the people in our Soviet
astronomical institutions. We have a new proof of the correctness of Comrade
Stalin’s warnings that the enemy is trying to penetrate all pores of the Soviet or-
ganism. (Ter-Oganezov, 1937, p. 377)
Editorials against the ‘saboteurs’ appeared in the Pravda, but also in scientifically
respectable journals like the Astronomičesky žurnal itself, which in the first number
of 1937 prayed the government to have no mercy for the ‘traitors’. The astron-
omers Gerasimovič, Numerov, Innokenty Balanovsky, Dmitry Eropkin, Nikolai
Ivanov, Nikolai Komendantov, Vladimir Kozlov, Maksimilian Musselius, Evgeny
Perepelkin, Sergei Selivanov, V. Surovtsev, Pyotr Yašnov passed away in the gulag,
in prison or were executed. Arrested and released after one or more years were
the astronomers Nina Boeva, Vera Gaze, Nikolai Kozyrev, I. Leman-Balanovskaia,
Naum Idelson, Aleksandr Markov, Vera Moškova, Vladimir Ščeglov, B. Šigin. In
the condemnation of Kozyrev, who spent 10 years in a gulag, cosmology played a
certain role:
In May 1937 he was brought to trial (…) and sentenced to imprisonment. After two
years he was sent to a labor camp in Noril’sk. There, a fellow inmate denounced
him for his scientific views; for example, he (naturally) supported the theory of an
expanding universe, which ran contrary to Soviet doctrine. Kozyrev was sentenced
to ten years (…) He appealed, and the sentence was altered to death! Luckily there
was no firing squad in Noril’sk, and after a second appeal the sentence reverted to
one of ten years in prison. (Moore, 1992, p. 120)
Other scientists who lost their lives or went to prison were Bronštein, Nikolai
Vavilov, who had courageously opposed to Trofim Lysenko, Arkady Apirin,
Pavel Florensky, Vsevolod Frederiks, Boris Hessen, Nikolai Kariev, Aleksandr
Kostantinov, Yuri Krutkov, Arkady Reisen, Yuri Rumer, Semen Semkovsky, Semen
Šubin, Lev Šubnikov, Aleksandr Vitt, Aleksandr Weissberg-Cybulski. Thanks to the
intervention of the nuclear physicist Pyotr Kapitza, the physicist Vladimir Fok was
released within a few days and Lev Landau after one year. The Orwellian machine
of the cancellation of the past was active: these people had to be considered as
‘nonpersons’: in 1940 Vorontsov-Velyaminov was excluded from the candidature
as a corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences because he had favorably
quoted an astronomer who had fallen into disgrace (Ereemeva, 1995, p. 318).
The first one was held at the Šternberg Observatory (Moscow) in December
1938 on the initiative of the Academy of Sciences. Astronomy had just been purged
from the ‘enemies’ and one can hardly imagine in what atmosphere the meeting
was held. Soviet astronomers had to admit that they had been too poorly active on
the ideological front. Western cosmology was in a deep crisis because it refused the
only ‘true’ diamatist conception of the Universe. The speakers were forced to admit
that ‘hostile agents of fascism’ had managed to penetrate the leading positions in
astronomical institutions and the organs of the press, making propaganda for the
‘counter-revolutionary’ astronomy (Aristov, 1939).
The second one was held at the Leningrad Section of the All-Union Astronomical-
Geodetic Society in December 1948, the first period of the Cold War. Once again
Soviet astronomers denounced the ‘bourgeois’ cosmology as an instrument for reli-
gious obscurantism:
The reactionary “theory” of the expanding universe rules in foreign cosmology.
Unfortunately has this anti-scientific theory penetrated even in our specialist press
(…) It is necessary to denounce this astronomical idealism which helps religious
obscurantism. (Prokofieva, 1950, pp. 19–20)
During the final debate, L’vov criticized some Soviet astronomers because they had
been too kind toward ‘bourgeois’ cosmogony, that “cancerous tumor that corrodes
modern astronomical theory and is the main ideological enemy of materialist as-
tronomy” (Prokofieva, 1959, p. 17).
During the Second World War there was a little amnesty on both the cultural and
the religious levels. After the war the astronomical debate started again. In 1946
the physicist Evgeny Lifšitz published an article which declared that on the physi-
cal level the Universe was infinite; on the mathematical level, on the contrary, the
model of a spatially finite Universe helped astronomers in their calculations (Lifšitz,
1946). The partition between the theoretical and the physical levels began to ob-
tain a certain consensus among Soviet astronomers. Furthermore, in other cultural
publications ideology seemed not to be as strong as before. Enough was enough:
in 1946 Stalin personally appointed Ždanov at the head of a campaign for the final
elimination of all ‘survivals of capitalism’ in the consciousness of the people. The
Ždanovščina (1946–1948) interested science, music, economy, literature and poetry.
During the philosophical conference of 1947, Ždanov explained that every ‘bour-
geois’ attempt to reintroduce God in natural sciences was inacceptable. The biggest
scandal was the absence of a unified Marxist philosophical front against Western
culture: “Philosophical works are entirely insufficient in quantity and weak in qual-
ity (…) Our leading philosophical institute (…) presents a rather unsatisfactory
picture, too” (Ždanov, 1950, pp. 100–102). The option was clear: either a change of
attitude or the collapse: “All this is pregnant with great dangers, much greater than
you imagine. The gravest danger is the fact that some of you have already fallen into
the habit of accepting this weaknesses” (Ždanov, 1950, p. 102). Ždanov died of a
heart attack in August 1948, but the spirit of the Ždanovščina survived until 1956.
Not surprisingly, Stalin conceded a little more autonomy to Soviet physicists, who
after 1945 were working on the atomic bomb (Stalin, 1952, p. 25).
The conferences on scientific subject matters (astronomy, biology, chemistry,
geology etcetera) which were held at the beginning of the Fifties revealed the same
trend of the Forties. The necessity to preserve the Marxist-Leninist ideology in natural
sciences was officially confirmed also by the 19th Congress of the Party (1952). In the
2nd edition of the Great Soviet Encyclopedia (1950) the noun Universe was written
according to the diamatist ‘necessities’ (Ambartzumian, 1953). During the Korean
War (1950–1953) an accident between East and West happened inside the IAU. The
General Assembly held in Zurich in 1948 had decided to hold the successive meeting
in Leningrad in 1951. However, given the international tension created by the Korean
War the assembly was cancelled and finally moved to Rome (NATO) in September
1952. Soviet Union did never accept the official motivation and interpreted the hap-
pening as a sabotage of the anti-Soviet circles of the IAU. The 8th General Assembly
in Rome was attended also by a little Soviet delegation composed by four astronomers,
who deserted the papal audience of 7 September and the visit to the Specola Vaticana
in Castel Gandolfo. At that time, the relationships between the Vatican and Soviet
Chapter 9. The political use of science 177
Stalin died on 5 March 1953. In a few years Soviet astronomy would pass through
gradual changes, especially thanks to a new generation of young astrophysicists.
The spirit of the Ždanovščina was still alive, but the 20th Congress of the Party
(1956) and the secret speech of Nikita Čruščëv on the past crimes inaugurated a
partially new course. Stalin’s figure was censored in the Soviet films on Lenin and
the Revolution and his books were excluded from the classics of Marxism. For
Soviet astronomy – which would have soon lived important successes in the Space
Race – things began to change in 1954, when Pulkovo hosted an international
meeting on astronomy with the presence of some American delegates. After 1953,
such extremist ideologues as L’vov and Ter-Oganezov were gradually marginal-
ized. The diamat experienced a process of ‘remolding’ which gradually conducted
Marxist philosophers not to condemn aprioristically the Big Bang theory anymore.
The premises for a new kind of confrontation with Western cosmology were ready,
but the Big Bang would have been still generally interpreted as a phenomenon
ascribable to the metagalaxy or, if referred to the Universe as a whole, only describ-
ing a new life phase of the eternal Cosmos. In December 1956 the 6th All-Union
Cosmogonical Conference took place in Moscow. Ambartzumian believed the time
had come for autocriticism:
Cosmological problems are somewhat neglected in the USSR while a considerable
number of papers on the subject are appearing abroad (…) Theoretical papers are
often unconnected with new observational data (…) It is necessary to stimulate
more work in extragalactic astronomy and cosmology. (Masevič, 1957, p. 306)
178 Mauro Stenico
The analysis of the Astronomičesky žurnal from 1924 (its foundation year) to 1956
does reveal in fact an amount of less than 10 contributions properly devoted to
the cosmological subject matter. Ambartzumian was asking for more connection
between theory (models) and practice (observations). Furthermore he clarified that
the right interpretation of the redshifts was the Doppler-Fizeau effect: no chance
for alternative explanations. The physicist Abraham Zelmanov, who under the last
Stalinism had spent some months in prison, maintained that “in the exposition of
a whole series of cosmological thesis, which have an ideological significance, it is
important not to introduce simplifications and dogmatism” (Masevič, 1957, p. 306).
Philosophers were not the judges of cosmology anymore, but of course their con-
tribution to the scientific debate was not dismissed. Zelmanov urged his colleagues
to a greater cooperation with foreign journals and astronomers. The philosopher
Arnošt Kolman, who had spent some years in prison under Stalin, recognized the
fact that a spatially finite Universe could be compatible with the diamat. From 1957
the Astronomičesky žurnal was regularly translated into English (Soviet astronomy)
as well as many other Soviet scientific journals.
In August 1958 the 10th General Assembly of the IAU was held in Moscow,
with more than 1.200 participants from 36 countries. Alexei Kosygin, vice president
of the Council of the Ministers of the USSR, praised the fact that the scientific col-
laboration was overcoming the ideological differences: the government was proud
of Soviet astronomers cooperating with the rest of the world in the name of sci-
ence (Sadler, 1960, p. 13). However, the proof that the fundamentals of the diamat
were still active is given by the personal experience of the British astronomer Fred
Hoyle, who in Moscow was privately warned not to use the word ‘creation’ in the
exposition of his Steady state cosmology:
Judge my astonishment on my first visit to the Soviet Union when I was told in
all seriousness by Russian scientists that my ideas would have been more accept-
able in Russia if a different form of words had been used. The words “origin” or
“matter-forming” would be OK, but “creation” in the Soviet Union was definitely
out. (Hoyle, 1989, p. 101)
During the Sixties, the young scientists Igor Novikov, David Frank-Kamenetsky
and Andrei Doroškevič became very notable for their researches on such modern
astrophysical issues as nucleosynthesis, singularities and galaxy formation. Yakov
Zeldovič became a first-class international expert in the particle astrophysics.
At the 11th General Assembly of the IAU held in Berkeley (California) in 1961,
Ambartzumian was elected president of the scientific institution (1961–1964), giv-
ing great honor to Soviet astronomy. Aleksandr Friedmann’s works, which under
Stalin had almost completely sunken into oblivion, were rediscovered and received
an integral publication. Zeldovič commented: “There are many unsolved problems
Chapter 9. The political use of science 179
in cosmology, but their solutions are to be sought on the basis of Friedmann’s the-
ory, in the framework of the general ideas he developed (…) The correct solution
came from the Soviet Union and was due to A. A. Friedmann” (Zeldovič, 1964,
p. 494). In 1963 Novikov and Doroškevič predicted the existence of the CMBR
(Doroškevič-Novikov, 1964), but still attributed it to the metagalaxy.
To conclude, the Čruščëvian era was characterized by a great change of ap-
proach to physics and astronomy. The rest of the world was following it with great
interest, as the 1963 Russian-English physics dictionary certified: “The achievement
of Russian physical scientists during the last decade have stimulated universal in-
terest in the physical literature of the Soviet Union” (Emin, 1963, p. 5).
Under Leonid Brežnëv – but not thanks to him – Soviet cosmology undertook its
final modernization. Brežnëv and the scientific institutions (e.g. the Academy of
Sciences) did constantly insist on the connection between science and partiinost’.
Despite the disquieting presence of the ‘Brežnëv Doctrine’ in the Communist Bloc,
the relationships with the West were characterized by multiple agreements on nu-
clear weapons, the jointed American and Soviet Apollo-Soyuz Mission (1975) and
new contacts with the Vatican: in 1967 four Vatican astronomers took part the first
time to an assembly of the IAU beyond the Iron Curtain (Prague). In 1970 a Soviet
delegation guided by Ambartzumian went to the Vatican (Pontifical Academy of
Sciences) for a study week on the nuclei of galaxies. As in the rest of the world,
even in the Soviet Union the discovery of the CMBR brought new stimulations
for cosmology: the problem of galaxy formation was becoming one of the greatest
dilemmas of the international astronomy. Ambartzumian faced it proposing a pro-
cess of ‘gemmation’ of new galaxies from active nuclei galaxies: old galaxies would
release little ‘embryos’ made of galactic material which would then grow up as new
galaxies. In 1966 the astrophysicist Iosif Šklovsky gave even (little) credits to the
‘enemy’ Lemaître for having theorized different phases for the cosmic evolution
(Šklovsky, 1969). Zeldovič proposed a model attributing 10 billion years to the
Cosmos and assuming an initial state in which the density was infinite (Zeldovič,
1966). The contributions of some coeval Soviet astronomers do not always clarify
if they were still attributing their speculations to the metagalaxy or to the Universe.
In the meanwhile, philosophers like Gustav Naan maintained that some terms used
in the classics of Marxism had to be correctly reinterpreted: the word Unendlichkeit
(infinity), used by Engels in the Dialektik der Natur, could mean ‘boundless’ rather
than ‘infinity’ (Naan, 1965). Furthermore, infinity could be preserved even within a
spatially finite Universe: if matter was eternal (temporal infiniteness), there would
180 Mauro Stenico
have always been an infinite number of infinite qualitative entities in succession in-
teracting from all eternity. The problem was now a ‘linguistic’ one: the terminology
‘Big Bang’ was still labeled as an ‘American extravagance’ (Zeldovič, 1969, p. 41).
Still in 1976 Blokhintsev admitted he preferred ‘big explosion’ (Blokhintsev, 1976).
Only in 1978 ‘Big Bang’ appeared for the first time in the English translation of the
Astronomičesky žurnal (Synthesis of light elements, 1978). In the same year Naan
compiled the noun cosmology for the 3rd edition of the Great Soviet encyclopedia,
accepting the most recent innovations of modern astrophysics (Naan, 1976). At the
beginning of the Eighties someone renounced explicitly the traditional distinction
between metagalaxy and Universe, for example Novikov, who wrote that “there is
nothing more grandiose than the global evolution of the entire Universe” (Novikov,
1983, p. 11). In 1983 the Soviet Union launched the experiment Relikt-1 on board
the Prognoz 9 satellite to study in detail the CMBR. Given the low instrumental
sensitivity, the experiment did not give the hoped results and was then surpassed
by the American satellite COBE in 1992.
Mikhail Gorbačëv’s appeals to the use of the diamat in natural sciences were not
but the last rhetorical affirmations of a dying communism. Glasnost’ and Perestrojka
let the people learn the fate of many scientists who had disappeared under Stalin.
One can maybe find a little ‘astronomical pacification’ between Soviet Union and
the Vatican in the words of Zeldovič when he went to Rome in 1986 and shared his
hand with John Paul 2nd commenting: “When I was younger I thought that science
and cosmology were able to explain the origins of the universe. Today I am not so
sure!” (Sunyaev, 2004, p. 278).
References
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Moore, P. (1992). Fireside astronomy. Chichester: Wiley.
Naan, G. I. (1965). Über die Unendlichkeit des Weltalls [On the infinity of the universe]. In
G. Kröber, Philosophische Probleme der modernen Kosmologie [Philosophical problems of
modern cosmology] (pp. 89–115). Berlin: Deutscher Verlag der Wissenschaften.
Naan, G. I. (1976). Cosmology. In A. Prokhorov, Great soviet encyclopedia (3rd edition) (pp. 188–
190), London-New York: MacMillan Educational Corporation.
Novikov, I. (1983). Evolution of the universe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
On the planning of astronomical research in the Ussr (1932). Astronomičesky žurnal, 9, 318–319.
Parenago, P. (1951). Mir zvezd [The world of stars]. Moscow: Akademy Nauk SSSR.
Partiinost’ (1978). In A. Prokhorov, Great soviet encyclopedia (3rd edition), 19, pp. 295–297.
London-New York: MacMillan Educational Corporation.
Petrov, V. (1940). Nekotorje voprosy cosmology [Some questions of cosmology]. Pod znamenem
marksizma, 7, 113–128.
Pius, XII (1951). Le prove dell’esistenza di Dio alla luce delle moderne scienze naturali [The
proofs for the existence of God in the light of the modern natural science]. In M. Sorondo,
I Papi e la scienza nell’epoca contemporanea [Popes and science in the contemporary time]
(pp. 118–129). Rome: Pontifical Academy of Sciences.
Prokofieva, I. (1950). Conférence sur les questions idéologiques de l’astronomie [A conference
on the ideological questions of astronomy]. La pensée, 28, 10–20.
Sadler, D. (1960). Transactions of the IAU: 10th General Assembly held at Moscow 12–20 August
1958. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Šafirkin, V. (1938). O stroenii vselennoi i nekotorych reaktsionnych ideach burzhuaznoi
kosmologii [On the structure of the Universe and some reactionary ideas of bourgeois cos-
mology]. Pod znamenem marksizma, 7, 115–136.
Sitter, W. d. (1932). Kosmos. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
doi: 10.4159/harvard.9780674331471
Šklovsky, I. (1969). New information on the age of the universe. Journal of the British Astronomical
Association, 79, 381–383.
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Politik.
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Chapter 10
Flavio D’Abramo
Free University of Berlin
In this article I recognise three major historical phases of epigenetics, the first in-
itiated by Child, Needham and Waddington during the first half of last century,
focused on a dialectical analysis of biological processes between the organisms
and their environments. The second phase started with the Bellagio conferences
organised by Waddington where general principles derived from quantum phys-
ics were used to establishing a global order underpinned by scientific, objective
facts beyond ethical and moral judgments. In the third phase, started with the
failure of the Human Genome Project, there isn’t any consensus on the operative
and philosophical notion of nature – i.e. the environmental context. Then,
I highlight the necessity to reunify knowledge and moral within epigenetics.
Inheritance redefined
Since its inception epigenetics has been a battlefield of scientific and politic nature,
where welfaristic and technocratic views have developed subtle strategies. Epigenetics’
birth is traced back to 1942, year of publication of the article by Conrad H. Waddington
in which the biologist mentioned and defined the term “epigenetics” (Waddington,
2012). Nevertheless, this dating hides the first appearance of the term, conceived
earlier by Charles Manning Child, American biologist and socialist reformer who
wanted to convey democratic instances within science. In 1906 Child postulated the
origin of biological forms in processes of interaction of “formative substances”. With
the “epigenetic origin of formative substances” Child indicated a precise model based
on dynamic processes and in which “the cause of the organization is to be found in
relations” between chemical elements and “not in particular substances” (Child, 1906,
pp. 169–170). The epigenetic conceived by Child was therefore based on the rela-
tionship between biological entities, a relationship in which the past and the present
doi 10.1075/cvs.13.12dab
© 2018 John Benjamins Publishing Company
186 Flavio D’Abramo
of the organisms and their environmental conditions gave shape to the organisms
themselves. The epigenetic theory developed by Child was literally blown away by
the geneticist Thomas Hunt Morgan, who found the chromosomal theory and that,
in contrast with the processual approach of Child, identified in the genes the ultimate
cause of biological characteristics. In short, Morgan gave one of the most important
contributions to establish, through a stabilizing order, a deterministic biogenetic the-
ory based on the role of genes and chromosomes. Morgan opened the way to a series
of experiments to provide scientific models to explain stability and fixity of human na-
ture. Oswald Theodore Avery, who in 1944 studied the pneumococcus discovered that
the material it inherited through generations resided in deoxyribonucleic acids. In the
Rockefeller Institute of New York Avery formulated the equation “DNA = hereditary
material”. Since 1944, when the work of Avery was published, biologists began to
recognize the DNA as fundamental part of genes, and in which is contained the cod-
ing information transmitted across generations (Gorelick & Laubichler, 2008). After
1953, when the work of Watson and Crick on the structure of DNA was published
(F. H. Crick, 1958), and where the genetic was reduced to the heritable, scientists
started to match what is genetic with the DNA. According to the lucky description
of Gorelick and Laubichler, prior to 1953, “genetic” was synonymous of “heritable”
while after that year it became synonymous with “DNA” (Gorelick & Laubichler,
2008). This operation had great scientific implications, overall on current concep-
tions of what we consider heritable, i.e. the intergenerational modes of transmission
of characters, features and quality of living beings, and consequently the role of in-
dividuals in society. In fact, the equation “genetic = DNA” defines the relationship
between organisms and environments, at least as it was postulated in the molecular
experiments of Avery, Watson and Crick. The theories of Avery, Watson and Crick
were formulated on the concept of genotype of August Weismann, according to which
the biological substance responsible for species-specific characteristics is transmitted
from one generation to another in almost complete isolation from the past, present
and future environments. One of the deepest implications of Neo-Darwinism, whose
founding fathers are tracked in Weismann and Morgan, but also in Avery, Watson and
Crick, is its determinism, that is the idea that our fate is written and determined in our
genome, in our DNA. In the germplasm or DNA would then be carved grammars of
individual autonomy. The only possible changes would be of random type, stochastic,
and would be selected by natural selection, which sifts those individuals able to adapt
to their contexts. In the case of Weismann random variation and natural selection
also apply to the germplasm. This has meant that the inheritable molecular signals are
only those contained in the nucleotides of DNA. And that the DNA of predecessors,
being clearly separated from the environment (the environment sifts and does not
determine anything in a direct or active manner), can not in any way transmit to
the descendants the ancestors’ experiences. The considered environment was in fact
Chapter 10. The dialectical legacy of epigenetics 187
the cellular one and not the one outside the body. In this sense, Weismann detached
itself from Lamarckism, according to which the relationship of organisms with their
environments was transmitted to next generations through complex biological dy-
namics. The operation of Weismann, who today is considered scientifically wrong,
should however be recognized in its emancipatory instance, that is the idea that in
every generation the organism starts from scratch (Meloni, 2016), getting rid of the
biological “ballast”, not always positive, derived from the ancestors. A democratic
instance – i.e. equality of all individuals was seen as guaranteed by biological mecha-
nisms – that deformed the scientific view of Weismann. Other molecular dynamics
considered in epigenetics, such as the methylation of cytosine, the formation of chro-
matin, the formative and regulative roles of the cell’s cytoskeleton, were dismissed as
dynamics devoid of inheritable information, while today are considered as the gates
through which the environment and the organism co-determinate each other. The
environment has a direct action on the biological dynamics of individuals, and acts
by modulating the genetic expression of cells, bacteria and viruses present in every
organism. Social and environmental dynamics thus produce an active action in all
the organisms. These factors, from the social and material environments that control
the DNA and are considered of epigenetic nature, explain the way the environment
modulates the behaviour of genes. However, there is no consensus definition of epi-
genetics. According to a recent definition, epigenetic changes affect gene expression
and occurs without changes in the DNA sequence (Jirtle & Skinner, 2007). In another
broader definition, epigenetics shows that conveyed in the development of individuals
are not only genes, but also the environment and other social factors (Griffiths and
Stotz in Meloni, 2016).
The slow decline of what happened inside the Neo-Darwinism was already clear in the
Sixties. The same “central dogma of molecular biology” (F. Crick, 1970) had received,
from its inception, a criticism about methods and contents. Some representatives of
the scientific community publicly showed their deepest doubts. For example, Barry
Commoner immediately published his criticism in Nature, in 1968 (Commoner,
1968), in which it was shown the incorrectness of Watson and Crick hypothesis ac-
cording to which the genetic information was considered as unidirectional flow that
by genes runs toward proteins and other outer parts of the cell. Multiple discoveries
now show that the information that runs between genes and other cellular and ex-
tracellular parts is a bidirectional flow. In these findings should be included prions or
retroviruses discovered by Stanley Prusiner and the genetic recombination discovered
by Barbara McClintock.
188 Flavio D’Abramo
So in his program Needham, who moved closer to Zavadovsky’s positions, and who
methodologically diverged from the Rockefeller’s lines of research, placed at the
center both transdisciplinarity and specificity / autonomy of biological methods.
The new epigenetics and the gap between knowledge and morality
The two political frameworks that have polarized genetic theories were, and still are
that of dialectical materialism and neo-liberalism. The final result consisted in the
creation of a biological theory disengaged with the environment, and where environ-
mental factors are mere variables of calculation, that acquire their meaning mainly
through methodological and epistemic values. In this context it was formulated a
190 Flavio D’Abramo
new theoretical biology able to overcome the rigidities of Neo-Darwinism and gene-
centrism around which was perched a large part of biology (Waddington, 1968).
Inside the Bellagio conference it was also redefined the metaphysical program
at the base of the new theoretical biology, intended as a redefinition of the postu-
lates regarding the status of objects and processes of this new discipline. Through
the union of quantum physics and biology, David Bohm assumed the concept of
order, derived from the intellectual, instrumental and constructive capacities of the
human mind, as the first metaphysical element, capable of governing each type of
“perception”, outside space and time (Bohm, 1969, pp. 41–43). David Bohm, who
replaced the space-time categories with an a-temporal one, made an operation that
served as keystone: he placed our daily phenomena outside of space and time, thus
distorting them in their meaning and common usage. To criticize this point was
Brian Goodwin (1931–2009), who attended one of the last conferences organized by
Waddington under the auspices of the Rockefeller Foundation. Goodwin called for
the resumption of alchemical values, namely the recovery of scientific/humanistic
analysis and approaches far beyond the principle of causality. Goodwin, mathe-
matician and biologist, gave large contribution to the development of the systemic
approach through the use of formal models he mostly applied to developmental
biology. Goodwin’s reflection on the scientific dynamics of subjectivity is there-
fore unique as it comes from within science itself. A few years later, responding
to David Bohm in the fourth volume of the Bellagio conference, Brian Goodwin
indicated ethical choices placed outside the space-time context as not possible. In
short, he pointed to the universal principles as not ethical. Located outside of space
and time, whatever choice is simply beyond ethics. To retrieve an ethical / critical
thinking, Goodwin remarked, it is necessary to refer instead to the context: “ethical
choice becomes context dependent rather then universal” (Goodwin, 1972, p. 275).
Goodwin drew from the alchemical tradition, when alchemists were able to blend
science and morality:
The aspect of alchemy that is so central to the present enquiry is the fact that this
tradition attempted to fuse knowledge and meaning by combining science (scien-
tia, knowledge), the study of natural process, with morality, man’s attempt to realize
his own perfectibility and self-fulfillment, itself a continuous process.
(Goodwin, 1972, p. 262)
machine which while recording the phenomena does not change its internal state, if
not in a deterministic manner, similarly to what happens within a Turing machine.
With this mechanical process he will be able to penetrate, understand and control
nature, Goodwin wrote, but without being a partaker. Knowledge and power are
divided, in their meanings and in their moral:
Contemporary science has essentially chosen the course of knowledge and power,
split off from meaning and morality because knowledge has become an end in itself.
Scientists today do not expect to be morally transformed by their activities. They
do not, in fact, participate in a relationship with the world that acknowledges the
autonomy and the ultimate inviolability of natural processes, the condition for a
dialogue with Nature, which has now become something to be penetrated, known,
and controlled. (Goodwin, 1972, p. 263)
Of particular interest are the critiques on scientific objectivity that Goodwin indicates
as dynamic that inhibits observers – engineers or scientists – to actively participate
in the natural phenomena analysed. The scientific activity objectified deprives re-
searchers of moral and ethical meanings, a game that transforms the relationship
between man and nature in a relationship of submission and coercion:
participation in a process of mutual transformation is in fact expressly ruled out
by the contemporary ideal of objective observation, preferably by a machine which
cannot change its state except in response to the particular events which it is de-
signed to record. The knowledge so obtained is regarded as neutral, without moral
‘contaminants’. It can be used beneficently or malevolently, but it is always used to
exercise control over the world, certainly not to transform oneself.
(Goodwin, 1972, p. 263)
Goodwin refers to Carl Jung (Goodwin, 1972, p. 264), that recalled the man’s ability
to maintain a dialogue with nature capable of changing his perception, a dynamic
that has little to do with the accumulation of material or knowledge that dominates
our age:
the essence of the alchemical process is quite clearly a two-way relationship be-
tween the adept and nature, both undergoing transformation as occurs in a true
dialogue. The basis of this relationship was the belief that Nature has an innate
tendency to seek a state of perfection, matter transforming into immortal, imper-
ishable gold. Likewise, man has a longing for perfection. He can thus learn from
Nature and at the same time assist her in her striving. (Goodwin, 1972, p. 262)
What according Goodwin swept the “wisdom of alchemy” of man, that is his abil-
ity to combine knowledge and morality, and therefore what separated reason and
experience was, in part, the Church: “the current misconception of alchemy is due
to the fact that it was vigorously discredited as heretical by the Church throughout
the Middle Ages and the Renaissance because, like all mystical cults, it believed
that God should be experienced, not simply believed in by the faithful” (Goodwin,
1972, p. 262). Today of God you can only have faith and no experience, so you can
expect to control all the natural phenomena. A process that has brought us both
to our separation from nature and from ourselves. The criticism by Goodwin can
be applied well to the current scientific enterprise. In fact, in most of its current
instances, that are derived from the neoliberal setting given during the Bellagio
conferences, epigenetics might be one way to know and to relate the dynamics of
biological units with the surrounding environments. These instances of epigenetics
are, most of the times, emptied of the meaning that researchers could give them.
Reframing epigenetics
Epigenetics can find very varied applications and it can be used to give multiple,
sometimes opposed, meanings to the concept and status of the environment and
therefore to the concept and the statute of human nature. For example, through
the epigenetic we can interpret the early stages of development of the organism as
biologically and psychologically constitutive, phases which are characterized by
specific interactions with organisms that are part of the community they belong
to – for example through the the material, socioeconomical context in which the
individual grows (Barker, 2007). In this case, environmental factors such as nutri-
tion, care received, climatic factors, are constitutive of the biological, psychological,
and therefore cultural organisms. Depending on the factors taken into account one
can act on the environment of the cell, to limit the environment to the organism’s
Chapter 10. The dialectical legacy of epigenetics 193
internal borders. In this way a disease can be considered only through the cellular
dynamics so as to exclude the factors outer the organism, creating an image of the
human body very similar to that of a machine. In this regard it is interesting to note
that methylation, the chemical bond which today covers a pivotal role in epigenetics
was shown for the first time in 1969 as a constitutive dynamics of the nerve cells
of the memory through the use of a computational / theoretical model (Griffith &
Mahler, 1969). Or you may consider the body as part of a social, material system,
thus including other aspects that characterize our societies and ecosystems. In this
case epigenetics may be useful to identify environmental factors contributing to
all the phases of development, as it happens in ecological developmental biology
(Gilbert & Epel, 2009), or the dynamics of social and cultural relevance that affect
directly the structure and biology of organisms through disciplines and fields of
research like epigenetic epidemiology – see the special issue of International Journal
of Epidemiology, 2012 (volume 41, number 1).
The meaning that the researcher gives to his activities is set mostly by the devel-
opment and use of the so called “epistemic values” or methodological characteristics
of scientific practices. These scientific, epistemic values have often been referred to
as opposed to ethical or social values (Meloni, 2016).
The role, meaning and ethical values to confer to epigenetics are bound by the
scientific, cultural and working structures within which each scientist operates.
The single scientist can anyway still consociate both with his peers and with the
people who will benefit of his work, in order to give shape to epistemological and
ethical reflections, to overcome the old dichotomies facts / values, nature / culture
and epistemology / moral. The current scientific phase allows certain steps for
the reunification of the dichotomies above mentioned: science is in fact acquiring
more and more diverse social roles and the European Union have put in issue the
importance of public involvement. In this communitarian context the public is
conceived not only as a subject producing information relevant to the scientific
work, but also as a subject capable of producing significant ethical judgments to
characterize science as a social activity (European Commission, 2014). To realise
this proposal that shortens the distance between the pessimism of reason and the
optimism of the will, it would be useful to trace the vast repertoire of conflicts be-
tween civil society and those scientific institutions used for purposes of control and
domination of the nature. A project which deepens the theoretical and operational
developments that occurred in the history of epigenetics so as to connect them with
current lines of research will be useful in identifying the elements of continuity and
rupture between old and new ideologies. This may allow a greater awareness among
those who participate in scientific activities, scientists, technicians and the citizenry.
194 Flavio D’Abramo
Conclusion
With the assumptions of the first epigenetics, the scientists wanted to couple organ-
isms with related environments, so as to trace the not always mechanical dynamics
that combine, in a dialectic way, the natural forms to their development. In its
second phase, set out in the Bellagio conferences, epigenetics was placed behind
the establishment of a global order of scientific kind, able to coordinate the human
population (Bastin, 1969). The last steps of this scientific phase see epigenetics
rooted in those epistemic values that, once again, are detached from contents and
meanings of moral and social kind. To open spaces of historical, philosophical,
anthropological, sociological and political reflection will help us to understand
and build a science capable of reflecting on itself so that we can evaluate the most
ineffable and not marketable aspects of our culture, within which are located sci-
entific practices.
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