Mini-Throughput: Debate Me, Bro Edition

A few years ago, I wrote about the Shapley Curtis debate. In short, this was a scientific debate over the nature of the universe — whether the Milky Way contained the whole of the universe or was just one island of stars within a vast cosmos. It is a fascinating scientific debate because while Shapley won the debate and had the data on his side, he turned out to be wrong. A critical piece of date was in error. And Edwin Hubble would eventually come in and, very Hubble-like, steamroll the field into a new era.

There have been a few other debates of that magnitude in science. One of my favorites occurred in the immediate aftermath of Charles Darwin publishing On the Origin of Species. It was a discussion between many individuals but the key figures were Bishop Samuel Wilberforce and Thomas Henry Huxley¹, who would become known as “Darwin’s bulldog” for fiercely arguing for the theory of evolution. It is perhaps most famous for Huxley’s (possibly apocryphal) response to Wilberforce’s question of whether it was from his grandfather or grandmother that Huxley claimed descent from an ape:²

A man has no reason to be ashamed of having an ape for his grandfather. If there were an ancestor whom I should feel shame in recalling it would rather be a man — a man of restless and versatile intellect — who, not content with success in his own sphere of activity, plunges into scientific questions with which he has no real acquaintance, only to obscure them by aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue by eloquent digressions and skilled appeals to religious prejudice.

It was a different time, when rhetoric was taught in schools and professional orator was an actual thing. Such a debate would not fly in our time of sound-bites and pull quotes.³ But despite the decline of public rhetoric and oratory skills, debate is still a critical part of science. Usually, this debate is in the form of competing papers. But sometimes they do happen in person when a scientific question is still being worked on. And not necessarily in a formal setting. One of the formative experiences of my career was sitting in a bar in Bavaria listening to two heavyweights argue a thorny scientific question over beers.

Scientific debate is unquestionably a good thing. It can force people to address holes in their data. It can expose deficiencies in theory. It allows the clash of human egos to overcome our natural blindspots and biases. Providing, of course, the debate is done right.

And that’s the rub. The thing that distinguishes these historic debates and ongoing scientific debate is that both sides are arguing from a place of knowledge and genuine curiosity. In the Shapley-Curtis debate, both men acknowledged the points the other was making and both identified critical points which could prove them wrong. Curtis acknowledge that Shapley had the better argument at the time. Shapley eventually acknowledge that he had been wrong. Both were genuinely interested in the actual answer. In the Wilberforce-Huxley debate, despite the jab, both men were intelligent, well-read and interested in the answer. Most of Wilberforce’s objections were on scientific, not religious grounds. In the scientific debates I have followed — online, in the literature or in person — this is the common thread: acknowledging the facts that don’t support your side, admitting to weaknesses in your argument and a genuine interest in the actual answer.

Now imagine, if you will, that Great Debate was not between Shapley and Curtis but between Shapley and a religious zealot who believed that Aristotle got it right and the Earth was at the center of the universe. Imagine that this theoretical opponent ignored Shapley’s data, brushed off inconvenient facts and made up his own facts to advance his view. That he had never altered or changed an idea in decades but stuck to his rhetoric no matter the facts. That debate would not have been very useful, would it? It would certainly not have advanced the cause of science or persuaded anyone to Shapley’s point of view.

I bring this up because of the recent challenge to Professor Peter Hotez, expert in virology and children’s health, to debate Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., lawyer and crank, over the safety of vaccination. Joe Rogan offered $100,000 to the charity of Hotez’s choice if he would come on the show and debate RFK. Others have thrown in various hypothetical funds now totaling over a million dollars. Hotez has refused, citing a desire to not platform RFK’s views. This has led to the usual cries of cowardice and even to Rogan fans stalking Hotez at his home, demanding that he agree to the debate.

This is not unusual in the online world. Various talking heads will frequently challenge field experts to debate them over some contentious issue. And most refuse. And I think that refusal is entirely justified in most cases.

First, the skills needed to study science or history or economics or whatever are not the same as the skills needed to debate. There are some, like Carl Sagan, who can do both. But they are rare. In a public debate, particularly over electronic media, communication skills can trump actual knowledge. I’ve noted before that juries, when confronted with forensic experts offering conflicting opinions, tend to go with the one who sounds more confident. And confidence in your answers is more common with charlatans than with scientists, who are always keenly aware of what they don’t know.

The bigger problem however, is the opponent. RFK, Jr. is not a scientist and has no scientific training. He has published no papers and done no research. That’s not necessarily disqualifying, but when you consider what he is, it stands out. Because RFK is a man with a nearly two-decade history of lying about this subject. He has misrepresented studies, pushed false narratives about the CDC and ignored piles of evidence in opposition to his views. He has persuaded people to resist vaccination, resulting in sick and dead children. He has misrepresented even the most basic aspects of the autism he claims to care so much about.

What is particularly telling is that RFK has never adjusted his views. He claimed that thimerosal in vaccines was causing autism but has not backed away from the claim after it was removed from vaccines and autism rates didn’t fall. His conspiracy theory about the Simpsonwood Conference has been repeatedly debunked but he still trots it out. It has been explained to him — repeatedly and using short words — that the “surge” in autism is more about better diagnosis than an actual increase. And yet he never acknowledges this.

That is the difference. That is the critical point. Someone who is interested in debate and legitimately asking questions changes their mind when they are exposed to new facts. Conspiracy theorists never do. No matter how many facts are presented, they stick to their original set of “facts” and their original claims.

There is no value in debating someone like this. RFK’s followers will not be persuaded. RFK’s critics will not be seduced. The most it will do is let him gish gallop — throw out a million lies that would take hours for Hotez to debunk. And since RFK has a long experience with media appearances and presents his claims with utter confidence, it’s likely people will think he “won” the debate.

I love scientific debate. I think it is critical to our understanding of the universe. Right now, the legitimate debate over the origin of COVID-19 is heating up because of unconfirmed reports that Patient Zero was a Wuhan Institute scientist. I would love to see a public debate between scientists about this evidence and what it means.

But in order for a scientific debate to work, it needs to be between honest brokers, people who actually care about the answer and are willing to admit when they’re wrong. They don’t necessarily have to be scientists, although that helps. But they need to be dealing from a place of deep knowledge, genuine inquisitiveness and respect for the truth.

Robert Francis Kennedy, Jr. is not such a man. And I think Hotez is right to decline the opportunity to stand there sticking to facts while RFK bites the head off chickens. But … I am, at heart, a problem solver. So I can think of one way this might work.

Have RFK debate Penn and Teller.

1. After whom I named my first cat.
2. As given in Timothy Ferris’ Coming of Age in the Milky Way.
3. He says after posting a sound bite.