Clearly, we have a problem in America with science. Most prominently are the examples of the anti-vaxxers and the climate deniers, but the examples are many. There are still parents who believe, despite ample evidence to the contrary, that vaccines administered at infancy cause autism in children and not long ago, it was controversial to suggest that ingested smoke of any kind caused cancer despite the evidence borne of the science.
But it hasn’t always been that way. Without our confidence in Newton (laws of gravity), Kepler (laws of planetary motion), Liebniz (calculus), Oersted, Volta, Tesla and Edison (electricity), Goddard (rocket propulsion), Marconi (wireless communication), and Turing (computer science) as well as countless others like them, we never would have put a man on the moon in 1969 (although there are those, however marginalized, who still believe we never did). That success among others engendered dutiful confidence in science and it has come to permeate every area of our life. We now have food science, exercise science, and sleep science. One wonders how we ever got along without science.
But our relationship with science is not as straightforward as it seems. Except for the scientists themselves, there is, in our relationship with it, a degree of faith. Without first-hand experience (meaning without being the scientist), we are dependent on our trust in what the scientists tell us. We do or do not “believe” in science in a way that sounds more religious than rational. Verification--meaning the replicability of any scientist’s evidentiary finding by other scientists in compliance with the standards of objective, controlled experiment-- is the principal means by which trust in the findings is first established in the scientific community and then if they mostly agree so, we do.
But also, we forget to acknowledge the provisional nature of science. We think that scientists seek and verify truth: we start with a hypothesis (evolution, relativity, big bang) and then set out to prove it—if proved, then fact. But as 20th century philosopher Karl Popper pointed out, what if something else comes along that disproves it? It would surely mean that the theory was at least partially false but does that also make it not science? In Popper’s view, no. It just means that we can never know with certainty if anything is objectively true and can only know what is provisionally true and false. A theory in science is false (flat earth, miasma theory of disease) only after it has been shown to be by newly revealed facts and a better theory (round earth, germ theory of disease). It is the falsifiability not the verifiability of science that makes it science.
The provisional nature of science, though, hardly negates its value to humanity. With each hypothesis, we posit, test, replicate and sometimes falsify we are building towards the next. Our knowledge advances (and gets applied sometimes beneficially). We could not have had Einstein’s theory of gravitational fields without Newton’s laws of gravity. To quote Popper: “We are social creatures to the inmost center of our being. The notion that one can begin anything at all from scratch, free from the past, or unindebted to others, could not conceivably be more wrong.”
Like science, all thought is provisional but unlike science, not all thought is falsifiable. As architects, we only know (or feel) that something is true (or better) through experience. Our experiences of buildings and cities (and drawings and models) tell us that something is true (or rather “feels right”) until we experience otherwise. However, nothing about our experiences—and by extension the theory and practice of architecture- can be falsified in the way that science can. We should not, therefore, ever pretend otherwise for to do so would be to practice what Popper call “scientism” or fake science. As much as science might inform the theory and practice of architecture, it-- like how we eat, exercise and sleep-- is not science (and let’s be real, after all that science we’re more confused than ever about how to eat, exercise and sleep). Our method is instead intuitive, empirical, inductive, and founded on experience—our own and that of other people, even—or especially-- dead people.
Does this also mean that when it comes to the theory and practice of architecture that nothing can be true, however provisionally, beyond the most rudimentary standards (safety, function, cost), that there are no qualitative or value-based guidelines to which we can adhere in the planning and design of our environment other than technocratic, pseudo-scientific ones (“smart”, “sustainable”, “resilient”)? It is hardly a coincidence that just as our faith in science crested in the 20th C, we began to lose faith in shared cultural or aesthetic values and standards-- those very guidelines upon which we architects depend to do our work. In the poverty of that loss of faith, we tried with science to elevate our thinking (and our professional status) in the hopes of regaining society’s trust and instead we only made things worse.