Science, Materialism and Truth

Josh: (Lecturing to his students in a forest) Science is the king of current metaphysical thought. If it is proven by science, then it is true. And if something is true, that something becomes the basis of all other truth, whether proven or opined. We may disregard this study or that, but the method of science is honored above all truth. And it has its significant place. The scientific method is a way of discerning between truths by careful observation. It is the finest of all human philosophies, and the main discoverer of the world around us.

What is science? What is the methodology which we honor above all? It is the proving of truth through repeatable experimentation. The scientist—no matter what age or social class or economic backing—performs an experiment with an expected outcome. Perhaps the outcome occurs, or something unexpected occurs, so either truth is affirmed or it is discovered. Even if there is a variety of outcomes, then a chart is made, indicating probability. You can’t lose with science.

The problem, however, with having science as the center of our metaphysics, is that all that is significant, the basis of all truth, is the observable and the experienced. And we tell ourselves, then, that all that is really important in our lives is that which we can experience, and that which is material. Only the sensible is sensible and the non-material is immaterial.

This limits the scope of significant reality to that which our eyes can see and to what our hands can touch. This is unfortunate. For we forget how much we, as humans, cannot know and can never experience. We, in our pride, neglect our limitations. Since that which we can experience is all important, then that which is beyond our understanding is insignificant.
But if that is the case, then it is unimportant that Ken’s mother died of unknown causes, because it is outside our sphere of knowledge. And Ken’s grief and love for his mother is insignificant, for we cannot open Ken up and observe his emotions with a microscope. Yes, it is within Ken’s experience, but since his experience is not material and not within our scope of experience, it is insignificant for the rest of us. Perhaps our observation of his experience can be significant to us because that becomes our experience, but the initial experience of it is significant to no one but Ken. Thus Ken is isolated, alone. Unloved. All because we believe in the experienced rather than the unseen.

The problem of science as the metaphysic of the age is not that of minimizing the unsensory, but also that of signifying the material. In our lives, that which is important is the material we can experience, the experience we can repeat. We have all become scientists of our own lives, experimenting with that which gives us experience. That which gives us a positive experience we tend to repeat, while that which we find negative we set aside. Then we base our actions on this personal utilitarianism—measuring our pleasure and diminishing our pain, creating repeatable actions that give us the best life.

However, we fail in our experimentation, mostly because we have neglected the unknown, unseen forces in our lives—our connection with others. We have an unseen relationship with every person we meet. We experience their experience—to a lesser degree, but it is still real. The emotion they feel, we feel. The joy another experience is, to a degree, experienced by us as well. The sorrow another has is sucked into our hearts, and we have no choice but to experience that sorrow. It is unseen, undiscovered, yet as real a force in our lives as the sun that shines and the air we breathe.

To focus on the material in our lives to grant us joy or sorrow is to deny the much more powerful force that is around us—the ebb and flow of human emotion around us. If we think that we can obtain happiness through a computer screen, the isolation we have becomes a more powerful reality and we go insane trying to push it aside. If we think that we can obtain happiness through a drug, we do so only by hiding ourselves from the human experience, by clouding the reality. And if we try to close the door to this ocean of emotion by politeness and social conventions, we soon find the edges of our door becoming damp, and the cracks widening by the pressure of the tide and soon the door bursts open and the emotions overwhelm us, dragging us down to the bottom.

We cannot fight or control the sea. All we can do is learn to ride it.

John: Is science truth?

Josh: It is an aspect of truth. But not all truth is significant.

John: So are you saying that science is insignificant?

Josh: Not at all. It is important for a smoker to know that cigarettes can cause lung cancer. But how important is it for us to know the names of the internal organs of the jellyfish? For some that might be important, but it is not important for the majority of people.

John: So some studies are important, while others are not.

Josh: Correct. We must determine not only what is true, but what is importantly true.

Pete: How can we know the difference between that which is important and that which isn’t? After all, all we have is a huge accumulation of knowledge, that which is fed to us or that which is discovered on our own, but how are we to sift through all that to determine the significant?

Josh: First you must know who you are in your community. Significance can only be found in context.

John: So you are saying that what is true is only found in context?

Josh: No. That which is real remains real. But if reality shifts, then the significance of one reality lessens and another becomes greater.

Nate: So, Josh, are you saying that the most significant truth is the immaterial, undiscovered truth?

Josh: Again, we must remember the vastness of that which we do not know. There is an infinitude of potential knowledge, yet both our knowledge and our potential knowledge is finite—a thimbleful of understanding amidst an ocean of reality. Much of that reality is insignificant to us. Much of the thimbleful is significant. But doesn’t it stand to reason that we are actually missing the majority of truth that is important for us to know? So if we limit important truth to that which is observable or experienced, then we are dismissing so much that is actually significant.

Thomas: But how can we know that one aspect of unproven truth is more important than another? Like you said, not all truth is significant for us, and a vast majority of truth is unseen, unproven. This means that the majority of unproven truth either is insignificant or it is actually misleading—not a truth at all. Is not all unproven truth like pulling out jellybeans from a bag—some are good and some are bad, but you don’t know until you prove it by experience?

Josh: Unless you have someone who has been in the bag and can hand you the best candy of all. (Hands him a chocolate kiss). After all, there are those around you—unseen, unknown—who have already seen and experienced that which you have longed for all your life, but have never known. If you find the true master of reality, you will find the significant truth.

Thomas: What do you mean, “master of reality”?

Josh: Remember, dear students, the path of peace, and you will be on your way to truth.