Facts are facts. The sun rises and sets as expected by the clock, even if time itself is subject to deeper exploration. Black men are incarcerated at much higher rates than whites. The earth’s temperatures are rising more or less as predicted by complex, data-driven, climate models. Smoking cigarettes elevates the chance of getting lung cancer; consuming lots of sugar does the same for obesity and developing diabetes.
Facts are determined by humans, though, and sometimes change. Until the late-16th century it was common knowledge that the sun and planets revolved around the Earth; people were the center of the universe. Vikings didn’t actually wear helmets fitted with horns, as ubiquitously depicted wherever they’re portrayed, including in a recent Rick and Morty episode. This headgear was only used for ceremonial purposes and had largely faded away by the time of the Vikings. Contrary to playground gospel, according to The Journal of the American Medical Association, sugar doesn’t affect behavior, at least not like a switch.
Fierce arguments can erupt when a settled fact is unsettled. For his heresy in claiming that the Earth actually orbits the Sun, Galileo was sentenced to life imprisonment by the Roman Catholic Church in 1633. In 1925, a Dayton, Tennessee high school teacher, John T. Scopes, was charged with violating state law for teaching Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. While evolution is now widely accepted, reports periodically surface of educators stitching “intelligent design” into their curriculum to expose students to “alternative” explanations of human existence.
Facts don’t exist in isolation, but tend to be connected to larger philosophical, religious, or scientific canons. During the 19th Century pioneers, most newly arrived from Europe, swept across North America. Was the resulting murder and dislocation of the native population an expression of righteous manifest destiny, or an economically driven genocide? Women’s physiology tends to be less muscular than men’s. Does that mean they should avoid participating in sports or industrial arts? Is it fair to allow a female-identifying biological male to compete against a biological female? Is there such a thing as “biological” gender?
We like to think that what’s taught at schools and colleges is empirically based, that students study facts and neutral “truths,” not opinions or religious beliefs. But outside some scientific disciplines – excluding medicine, notorious for overemphasizing white male physiology over women and people of color – few academic disciplines are wholly without bias. Who or what is the focus of attention in a history course; through what lens anthropologists or sociologists evaluate ancient, or even today’s, societies; what political system works best, or even how to define “best,” are all subject to interpretation.
Facts are different than beliefs, though closely held values are often asserted as if they’re certainties, even if proponents base their claim on religious imperatives or a declaration of “fundamental human rights.” The U.S. Constitution is deployed as a kind of Magic 8 Ball, but that document is as often a political tool as a truth. Slavery was okay until it wasn’t. Universal abortion access wasn’t protected until it was, then again it wasn’t. Even definitions of who is a “murderer” change according to constitutional impulses, sometimes encompassing solely the person who pulled the trigger, other times roping in an “accomplice” who participated in the crime that led to the death.
Towards the end of his stump speeches Donald Trump often states that if re-elected President,
On Day 1, I will sign a new executive order to cut federal funding for any school pushing critical race theory, transgender insanity and other inappropriate racial, sexual or political content on our children.
This declaration, which largely aligns with Nikki Haley’s views, consistently elicits spirited audience approval. It’s a murky kind of signaling; how many Americans can define “critical race theory” and how it’d be applied in schools? Who wouldn’t be opposed to teaching kids “insane” or “inappropriate” content?
Education, from pre-kindergarten to college, is the focal point of culture wars because it’s supposed to be the slow or sudden cure – or bulwark against attacks on the status quo – for faux facts, “feelings are facts,” or the difficult transition from one common-held reality to another. Knowledge tends to leak out, however, whether it’s spoon-fed by a second-grade teacher, hidden in the lyrics of a rock song, stumbled across in a library, revealed through an accidental encounter with a wise “other” stranger, in a post-secondary institution, or even sometimes on social media.
The ticket to a fact-based society – even as facts change – is nurturing the ability to recognize the truth when one sees it and being enthusiastic about, or at least not wholly resistant to, learning new things. Content is important, context even more so, but it’s the capacity to effectively critique what’s presented, to argue passionately but respectfully through reason and analysis, that’s the key to enlightenment.
As the speed of change accelerates so too does opposition to it. Evolving demographics, artificial intelligence, big data, advanced exploration of the oceans and space, as instantly conveyed through TikTok, X, and Instagram, are introducing new, sometimes faux, facts at an increasingly fast pace. These could be accepted as truth or trigger chronic social unease and political unrest.
Future historians may tell us what happened.