dr joe

Scientific Presuppositions and Method
When I was growing up, I had a good friend named Joe. This kid wanted to be a scientist; in fact, he was a scientist by the time we were eighth graders. Joe would talk about the laboratory he had in his basement and the experiments he ran there. He would wear a white lab coat to school. He always told us he was making bombs in his basement and a list of people that picked on him. I’m still not sure if there was a correlation between those two things. One of my favorite memories of Joe is when he brought his Geiger counter in for a demonstration speech. Yes, this junior high student in rural Indiana had his own personal Geiger counter. Joe wasn’t the guy you wanted on your basketball team, but he did make an excellent lab partner in physics and chemistry.

Working with Joe on science experiments didn’t teach me the presuppositions of science or how the scientific method worked. I learned those things from a book or maybe subconsciously through society and our culture. Working with Joe, though, gave me first hand experience of how important those presuppositions are to science and scientists. I think the most essential presupposition is that all things can be explained by natural laws. There is a rational, natural explanation for everything, and science is the method of finding this explanation.

The idea that an explanation for everything exists is what drives the scientific method of discovery. However, hypothesizing, testing, theorizing, retesting, and on and on until an answer is found is a method that has its limits. There is a flaw in the scientific method, and in the presuppositions of mainstream science, which limits the process to only explain (discover, research, etc.) those things which are measurable or observable. It’s a great way for explaining the “physical,” but I think it fails explaining beyond that.

A controversial advertisement campaign claims to have found a missing piece from the periodic table of elements – the human element. I don’t think science or the scientific method can factor in the human element of life. I think science leaves us lacking when it comes to the spiritual and eternal things in life, and I’m not necessarily referring strictly to things of God. Although, I don’t think science can explain God or eternity because these are things our intellect can’t understand. Have you ever tried to wrap your mind around eternity? I can’t do it; I try sometimes, but it gives me a headache.

Science can theorize about how the universe came about to such perfect balance, but it can’t provide an absolute answer. Science often tries to explain medical miracles and the power of God through prayer, but even those explanations can be superficial and unsatisfying. I think God planned to leave some things unexplainable so that we would have faith in him. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be curious or continue to use these methods, but like everything else in life, science can’t be our sole focus or existence.

Why?

Since Valentine’s Day is approaching and I’ve already mentioned Joe, I’ll relate another story. One day in high school as Valentine’s was approaching, my friends and I were sitting around the lunch table discussing their plans for the big day. Joe told us his plan. (Note: Joe had yet to actually ask this girl “out,” so this would have been their first date.) Joe wanted to rent out an entire movie theater and take this girl to watch a movie on Valentine’s Day. I don’t know, maybe girls would think that is really special and romantic, but to me, I think it’s creepy, awkward, and quite expensive. I asked the first thing that came to mind: “Why?” I don’t remember his answer, but I remember the expression on his face – reddening and full of uncertainty.

I’ve been in that spot before; I thought I had an outstanding idea, only to have someone question my moment of brilliance. How did my favorite childhood game turn into the one question I want to avoid and makes me sweat like a scientist in a social setting (ha…stereotyping from prompt seven). As I considered my discomfort, I came up with four reasons.

First and maybe the least likely reason is because we don’t want to offend anyone anymore. Nowadays we are so careful to be politically correct and inoffensive to any person, plant, or particle that we fear explaining our reasoning for our beliefs. What if they don’t agree? What if we offend them with our explanation? This would obviously be unbearable in such a day and age as ours.

Secondly, thirdly, and finally all tie together. I think we are uncomfortable with this question because it makes us think. I’m not sure we always like thinking and reasoning with ourselves. It’s much easier to accept what has been ingrained in our minds from childhood. Why question what we know?

Then when we start thinking about why we believe what we believe or do what we do we may discover the unthinkable: we don’t have a reason! That would be terrifying. It would be as if our lives were based on a false foundation.

Even worse, if we examine our beliefs too closely, we may find out that they are wrong. That would be…I can’t even think of a word to describe that experience.

I’m not sure those are the reasons why everyone fears Socrates’ favorite question, but that is why I fear it. It’s so much easier for me to simply believe what I’ve always been taught than to discover what I believe and why. That has been my great project over the past three years – to figure all “that” out before I enter the “real world.” It’s hard to step up to the precipice of personal faith and maturity, to say, “Okay, God, I’m going to let go of everything I believe and have ever been taught, whether it has been right or wrong. I’m going to need you to piece it back together for me. I’m probably going to fight it some of the time. And I’m definitely going to need to grow in some places to be able to handle it all. But this is something I need to do, something I want to do. So let’s do it. Here I am.” That’s a scary place to stand because it requires letting go of everything I’ve held so dearly – “my” faith. But in reality, it was never my faith; it was my parents’ and my preacher’s, my youth minister’s and my friend’s. Whatever it was, it wasn’t completely mine. But it is becoming that way.