Predictions may be a mug’s game, as one British newspaper put this evening. But that doesn’t stop people from invoking one grand man’s predictions at the end of every year. Like a ritual from a long-forgotten time which we cling onto for failure of our reason, Nostradamus’ majestic predictions makes the rounds. Human beings have a habit of imbuing cryptic aphorisms with non-existent meanings. A natural disaster here, a conflict there. The predictions seem nothing, but amount to many things for the keen-eyed. It does sound like a paradox: shouldn’t closer analysis reveal its fragile foundations? Deep introspection works in mysterious ways, in the fashion of how people imbue modern artworks with meanings resonant with their personal lives which may be far removed from the meaning intended by the artist. Nostradamus’ pithy aphorisms, though a historical work, are a victim of the same.
It’s easy to dismiss the obsession with the subject of predictions as a symptom of gullibility of the human mind. There’s more to it than meets the eye. I believe that a brief acquaintance with theoretical tools or models — that do not require high-level knowledge to understand — can help us be careful of what we repose our beliefs (or, as the case may be, bets) on. Seems like an odd thing to bet on, but as posts on social media flash, the gullible instinct may be inclined to accept it as true for a moment, as rare as it may be. Critical thinking 101 classes are in vogue in universities across the world, acquainting students with types of logical fallacies and biases. It is not guaranteed that the theoretical rules learnt in these classes will translate into real-world achievements in public discourses. But it’s like a soft weapon in your armour; if deftly deployed, it can be incredibly rewarding. It is simply about seeing through the thick to arrive at the kernel of truth. As for seemingly all-encompassing predictive hypotheses like that of Nostradamus’, the theoretical model that comes to my mind is that of an early 20th century philosopher who decried the logical positivists and wore liberalism proudly on his sleeve—one of the doyens of philosophy of science, Karl Popper.
if False, then yes
Karl Popper once remarked, ‘a theory that explains everything explains nothing.’ At first sight this feels counterintuitive, stupid even, for shouldn’t a theory that explains everything be seen as credible? Popper says such theories are suspect and he cites Marxism and Freudian Psychoanalysis as examples.
The aforesaid quote is the idea that underlies Popper’s theory of falsificationism, which is quite sensible. Our experiences are finite. When testing out a hypothesis, we may make several observations that prove it right. But there’s always the possibility of a disconfirming observation. That is, the theory can be falsified. And that, according to Popper, is the mark of a true scientific theory. No amount of confirming observations can prove a theory, but a single contradictory piece of information can disprove it.
A theory can’t be too perfect to account for all phenomena and problems put to it. It’s similar to how we ordinarily become suspicious of people who have an overly pleasing demeanour. It looks unnatural and squeaky clean for this chaotic universe where inconsistencies rule.
In a way, Popper was describing how science works and ‘progresses’. Science, for him, was an imaginative and creative pursuit. The received belief was that scientists start with a conjecture and that a bunch of observations that prove it is enough to believe it. This is called induction. Consider driving, for instance. In a road that is not very crowded allowing you to speed moderately, what compels you to think that the car ahead of you will not pull the brakes resulting in a collision? It is entirely possible but, from all your previous experiences you know that if you drive in a certain pace moderately, leaving enough space between your vehicle and the car ahead, the possibility of a collision can be avoided. But there is always a chance, even if its probability is next to nil, that the car can pull the breaks suddenly and worse, reverse fast giving you little time to change course. David Hume formulated this uncertainty, the lack of conclusiveness of truths so established, as the problem of induction.
Popper’s theory may have been built on the back of Hume’s formulation. Yet, Popper had other ideas too. We can’t escape induction, for our daily life itself is based on the little inductive decisions we make every moment. The opposite of induction, called deduction, which requires something to be proven conclusively (accounting for all circumstances — past, present, and future), is impossible to establish in real life, remaining a mere theoretical possibility. Instead, Popper focuses on what he calls ‘testability’. If the theory is testable and capable of being refuted, then it’s scientific. A theory that can survive multiple attempts to refute it is a ‘good’ scientific theory. In cliched terms, it has stood the test of time (so far). Scientists thought Popper was spot on.
Culprits, Freud y Marx
Looking through the prism of this principle will allow us to see why Popper calls Freudian Psychoanalysis a “psuedoscience.” It vows to explain all kinds of human behaviour. Broadly, everything is premised on our unconscious thoughts and desires, which remain inaccessible to us since they are outside our consciousness. Any action or behaviour far from the usual can be boiled down to an unconscious substratum. We can’t empirically verify them, so it accepted as a fact of life. The theory, as you can see, is clearly not testable.
Or consider Marxian analysis of history. According to Popper, any historical phenomena, such as a revolution, or a set of events that culminated in a change of status quo can be interpreted as a class struggle. But every historical incident is riddled with nuances and requires contextual awareness. Far from the simplistic binaries of class dynamics.
Nostradamus’ sin — or burden?
For all we know, Nostradamus might have well been aware of the limitations of his prophesying powers, or he may have liked a good joke. But as with modern day social-media wars — and obsessions — where taking quotes out of context, for fulfilment of ego or vindicating agendas seems to be the mood of the age, the lore of Nostradamus fell for the trap. In a world where fatalism (with a tinge of sadism) prevail in different quarters, the aphorisms offered fresh fodder where people trying to make a living out of spouting nothing.
It may seem trivial that a philosophical theory is required to demolish such seemingly unbelievable claims. But as the famous Frenchman Voltaire once said (who seems to have produced, fortunately or unfortunately, many quotable quotes much to the glee of netizens), ‘common sense is not so common.’ Critical thinking forms the holy grail of philosophy. It’s about thinking of what we often take for granted.
The subject we are discussing about reminds me of a particular football usage called the “eye test.” A player may appear to play well and but on closer look, may not necessarily be so. In theoretical parlance, we just deployed critical thinking. Were we to be a little kinder to philosophy (and Popper’s obsession), life would be a little easier. For then, much of what we scroll by wouldn’t pass the eye test.
The Unsaturated Reader 