Nancy E. Snow
Introduction
Let me begin with a quote from Sophia Rosenfeldâs wonderful book, Democracy and Truth: A Short History: âAt a practical level, a basic commitment to truth-telling or veracity as a moral position is central to maintaining the interpersonal trust that democracy, in its modern incarnation, needs to be effectiveâ (Rosenfeld 2019, 173). Within the last ten years or so, weâve seen a dramatic increase in the numbers of lies told by prominent politicians and other public figures in democratic countries, as well as misinformation propagated by the media. Lani Watson (2018), for example, gives a trenchant account of what she calls âepistemic rights violationsâ in her case study of media activity in the run-up to the referendum on Brexit. On the other side of the Atlantic, Donald Trumpâs lies are epic (see, e.g., McIntyre 2018, 2 for a very brief sampling; Chotiner 2019; Acosta 2019), and Fox News has misled a large sector of the American public (see e.g., Mooney 2014; Bartlett 2015; Rupar 2019). Some philosophers and political commentators now write of a âpost-truthâ era (e.g., Glasser 2016; McIntyre 2018). âPost-truth,â according to McIntyre (2018, 6), does not refer to the end of truth or the temporal passing of truth, as âpostwarâ refers to the end of war. Instead, it refers to the subordination of facts to political ideology, to â⊠a corruption of the process by which facts are credibly gathered and reliably used to shape oneâs beliefs about realityâ (McIntyre 2018, 11). Social media and the internet have contributed to this problem. We live in an era in which âfake news,â âalternative facts,â âecho chambers,â âinformation silos,â and âfilter bubblesâ seriously restrict our ability to discern truth from falsehood, or even allow us access to criteria that might enable us to do so.1 McIntyre (2018, xiv, emphasis his) observes that â⊠what is striking about the idea of post-truth is not just that truth is being challenged, but that it is being challenged as a mechanism for asserting political dominance.â
David Roberts (2017), a reporter for the online magazine Vox, has used a term that aptly captures an essential feature of this state of affairs: we are seeing the rise of âtribal epistemologies.â According to Roberts (2017), tribal epistemology occurs when
Information is evaluated based not on conformity to common standards of evidence or correspondence, but on whether it supports the tribeâs values and goals and is vouchsafed by tribal leaders. âGood for our sideâ and âtrueâ begin to blur into one.
As far as the aim of truth-seeking in democracies goes, the present situation is dire. Yet, truth-seeking in democracy has not always been smooth sailing. In Part I, âDemocratic Truth-Seeking: Ideals and Realities,â I briefly discuss four ideals of democratic truth-seeking, drawing mainly on Rosenfeld (2019), but also on other scholars, to discuss these ideals alongside more problematic realities. This will set the stage for the emergence of tribal epistemologies. In Part II, âThe Rise of Tribal Epistemologies,â I put philosophical flesh on the bones of Robertsâ definition and trace some of the factors that contribute to the present epistemic, social, and political fragmentation. In Part III, âEpistemic, Social, and Political Trust,â I sketch an argument that relates epistemic to social and political trust and highlights the role of tribal epistemologies in destroying trust. Finally, in Part IV, âCan the Truth Set Us Free?,â I discuss tentative suggestions for breaking free of the present malaise.
Democratic Truth-Seeking: Ideals and Realities
In this section I briefly discuss four ideals of democratic truth-seeking: the first from John Stuart Mill; the second and third from Rosenfeld (2019); and the fourth from John Dewey. My point will be that these abstractions, pleasant and high-minded though they are, have not stood up to the realities of democratic history. That history, as Rosenfeld (2019) contends, provides an essential backdrop for understanding the present state of play as regards democratic truth-seeking and the deep-seated challenges it confronts.2
For those of us who cut our teeth on Anglo-American political philosophy, the locus classicus of the defense of free speech as a vehicle to finding political truth is John Stuart Millâs On Liberty. There, Mill eloquently defends the notion of a free marketplace of ideas. He writes:
We have now recognised the necessity to the mental well-being of mankind (on which all their other well-being depends) of freedom of opinion, and freedom of the expression of opinion, on four distinct grounds; which we will now briefly recapitulate.
First, if any opinion is compelled to silence, that opinion may, for aught we can certainly know, be true. To deny this is to assume our own infallibility.
Secondly, though the silenced opinion be an error, it may, and very commonly does, contain a portion of truth; and since the general or prevailing opinion on any subject is rarely or never the whole truth, it is only by the collision of adverse opinions, that the remainder of the truth has any chance of being supplied.
Thirdly, even if the received opinion be not only true, but the whole truth; unless it is suffered to be, and actually is, vigorously and earnestly contested, it will, by most of those who receive it, be held in the manner of a prejudice, with little comprehension or feeling of its rational grounds. And not only this, but, fourthly, the meaning of the doctrine itself will be in danger of being lost, or enfeebled, and deprived of its vital effect on the character and conduct: the dogma becoming a mere formal profession, inefficacious for good, but cumbering the ground, and preventing the growth of any real and heartfelt conviction, from reason or personal experience.
Mill continues:
Before quitting the subject of freedom of opinion, it is fit to take some notice of those who say, that the free expression of all opinions should be permitted, on condition that the manner be temperate, and do not pass the bounds of fair discussion.
When does one pass the âbounds of fair discussion?â The gravest offense in this regard, Mill (1956, 65) writes, is â⊠to argue sophistically, to suppress facts or arguments, to misstate the elements of the case, or misrepresent the opposite opinion.â
Clearly, norms of epistemic fairness are in play in Millâs conception. What is not so clear, however, is who is entitled to participate in the âfree marketplace of ideas.â In Millâs day and age, women could not participate meaningfully in politics and racial and class prejudice was rampant. Differing levels of education, exposure to ideas, and articulacy skills would also have prevented some members of society from fully and equally participating in public political debate. The question of who gets a place in the decision-making process and how to achieve a level playing field for all participants is still a concern for defenders of deliberative democracy (see, e.g., Young 2000). In short, Millâs ideal of free and open debate as a way of achieving truth in democratic societies abstracts away from many realities that have long problematized actual processes of democratic decision-making. It is one thing for members of working-class groups to discuss, in pubs and coffee houses, the policies that affect them; it is another to ensure that their Members of Parliament actually bring their concerns to the House floor for debate. Restrictions on who could vote and stand for public office (on age, gender, race, property ownership, and educational abilities) ensured that the voices of some people would not carry weight equal to others in participatory processes.
In fairness to Mill, we should recognize that he was influenced by Harriet Taylor, wrote The Subjection of Women in favor of womenâs and menâs equality, and, as a Member of Parliament, lobbied, albeit unsuccessfully, for womenâs right to vote. In 1867, when Mill was MP for the City of Westminster, the House of Commons was considering the Second Reform Act. Mill unsuccessfully sought to change the wording so that women would get the vote. Though that effort failed, the Second Reform Act eventually doubled the size of the electorate in England and Wales by loosening property qualifications for voters (Womenâs Suffrage and the Media, n.d.). Thus, change was in the offing, but the ideal of free speech and equal access to political participation for all was still just thatâan ideal awaiting full acceptance in reality.
Millâs ideal and its partial reception in the late 19th century illustrate problems of democratic representation that Rosenfeld (2019) sweepingly explores in two chapters of her book. One, on political experts, charts the development of a political class of elites that, in many countries, formed a group of âtechnocratsâ who governed. The other is on populist reactions to technocrats. An examination of the chapter on political experts reveals two further ideals of democratic governance.
One was the creation of a kind of âruling classâ of educated individualsâhistorically, white male property ownersâwho would be mentally and morally capable of governing a nation. Rosenfeld describes the creation of a political class in the early republics of British North America and France during the 18th century, comprised of men who would have formal education and possess wisdom and virtue (Rosenfeld 2019, 51ff). Thomas Jefferson, an advocate of this system in the early American republic, believed it was essential to cultivate a ânatural aristocracyâ for the âtrusts of governmentâ (quoted in Rosenfeld 2019, 55). Colleges and universities, such as Ivy League schools in the United States and Oxford and Cambridge in England, as well as âfeederâ schools such as Eton and Harrow, educated potential members of the political class. As education progressed, schools became more concerned with methods of finding truth. For example, the Normal School (Ăcole normale) in France became dedicated to instructing teachers in methods that would ensure studentsâ abilities to arrive at truth (Rosenfeld 2019, 58).
Yet a shift away from the production of a political class characterized by wisdom and virtue was underway, driven in part by the needs of industrial capitalism (see Rosenfeld 2019, 63ff). âFact-collecting,â or what would become statistics, became a national obsession in the early American republic; by the late 19th century, as Rosenfeld (2019, 66â68) notes, German science or Wissenschaft led the way in creating new kinds of knowledge professionals. A class of technocratsâdoctors, engineers, statisticians, economists, and other scientists, whose expertise was certified by institutional affiliation, academic degrees, and other forms of licensureâbegan to take hold. These practitioners were committed to methodological rigor as opposed to guesswork, impartiality as opposed to prejudice or political or religious bias, the technical presentation of facts as opposed to sen...