"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
Math
has always been one of my favorite subjects. It's orderly. And, well,
when one understands the language (and I only know the tourist
basics), it's poetry.
It
has within it the ability to precisely describe our world. Matter and
energy can be quantified. Objects have locations in relation to each
other. We can measure the passage of time, at least within our sphere
of existence.
The
order revealed in the world by math existed before we could calculate
or understand it. The earth orbited the sun regardless of the
mistaken beliefs by some ancient astronomers. Neptune was discovered
because the mathematics describing the orbits of the known planets
said a planet must be there, and predicted where it would be.
Things
are as they are, regardless of whether or not we know them. That
makes perfect sense, doesn't it?
Apparently,
not to everyone.
There
is a tendency in academia to frame everything in terms of human
experience, especially for those studying the less easily quantified
social fields. Some of this is good methodology. Since cultures can
be so dissimilar, to really understand another culture we need to
know its frame of reference.
What
is "common sense" to people? What are the things that
everyone knows? To do this, researchers try to put their own cultural
biases on the shelf.
In
Japan, for instance, child rearing is quite different. Japanese
children generally don't get to make choices in their clothing, their
food, or the way they spend their free time. In some places they
aren't expected to do any housework, but they do have to study hard.
It
would be easy to disapprove of this, especially in our highly
individualistic culture. Our common sense says the Japanese are
holding their children back by not letting them express themselves.
But
this isn't the whole story. Their parents love their children. They
want them to grow and have new experiences. Their children just don't
get to choose what those experiences are. The Japanese ideas of
childhood and our ideas are quite different, but both cultures manage
to grow young humans into adults that function well in society.
Methodological
relativism can be a useful tool. There are many ways in which our
cultures can differ that are not a matter of righteous behavior, and
setting aside these differences in light of the gospel and its
central principles can help us to love each other as Christ loves
each of us.
The
gospel is true, no matter what the culture, and it's interesting to
see how these truths get expressed in other cultures.
But
some take relativism further than cultural differences and imagine
that there is no universal right or wrong, only what is right and
wrong in that culture, or in that individual's eyes, and you get
moral relativism. And some go even further, slipping into a
philosophical relativism in where the truth itself is determined by
our beliefs.
Follow
that logic, and Neptune apparently came into being when a couple of
mathematicians did the calculations and came to the belief that it
was there.
It
is commonly met in academia in both the soft and hard sciences.
Methodological relativism can naturally lead people to critically
think about their own culture. This sometimes leads to criticism of
everything, including reality. The hard sciences, though absolutist
in truth, sometimes lead to atheism, which takes away the foundation
for moral certainty.
Moral
relativism has been going on for so many generations of teachers and
students that there is another road to relativist sophistries —
social and authoritative pressure.
Someone
once argued with me that 2 + 2 = 4 was a cultural belief, saying that
I might have "known" something different if I grew up in a
completely different culture. They were so proud of being able to
believe that they could go to their heaven and I could go to my
heaven.
Relativism
is appealing because it appears, at first, to be the most tolerant of
all views. I have my truth, and you have your truth. May we all
prosper in it.
But,
being an objectivist — a believer that there are facts that
remain facts no matter what we believe — I tell the relativists
that they are wrong. And because my belief system invalidates their
"truth", I am intolerant. And that is the ultimate sin of
relativism.
Do
you see the irony? This "most tolerant" of all views leads
its believers to be the least tolerant of those who disagree with
them on that basic philosophical level.
Claiming
that a person cannot possibly hold a certain belief or standard and
still be tolerant of a person who doesn't hold that belief or
standard says more about the claimant than about the defendant. True
tolerance is when people get along despite opposing differences in
beliefs and what constitutes moral behavior.
Relativism
is the demon that whispers to us that there is no devil. These ideas
are told to us by authoritative sources, through our secondary
schools and media.
Relativism
is a philosophy of pride. Its followers are never wrong, picking and
choosing which beliefs they want to have (I think they call this
"finding themselves"). Cheering each other on, the
adherents of this point of view further puff themselves up. The end
result is that they are spiritually blind.
Well
established in their comfort zone of postmodern thinking, they can
appreciate the logical beauty of the gospel from afar, without having
to commit to it.
Beware
lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the
tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after
Christ. (Colossians 2:8)
Mormon
scholarship is not immune. I've read articles by LDS authors whose
treatment of the Church puzzled me until I realized they had taken a
relativist position. Whether that was done to be published in a
journal, to gain the praise of the world, or if relativism has
actually infected their philosophy, I don't know. In academia, it’s
probably all three.
Relativism
is a demon that whispers to us that there is no devil. It’s
everywhere — in our schools and in media. It’s not just
people doing bad things. It’s those little “morality”
tales and the “common sense” approach that everyone is
special and if you only believe, you can make anything happen.
It
was in Life of Pi, Frozen, The LegoMovie,
and other pieces of popular culture. It’s the foundation of
several of the moral debates taking place now.
In
the next column, I’ll cover absolute truth and morality from
the scriptural, doctrinal, and logical/philosophical sides.
Ami Chopine started out her mortal existence as a single cell. That cell divided into a collection
of cells that cooperated enough to do such things as eat, crawl, walk and eventually read a lot
and do grownuppy things.
When she was seven years old, hanging upside down on the monkey bars, she decided she
wanted to be a scientist when she grew up. Even though she studied molecular biology at the
University of Utah, that didn't quite come to pass. She became a writer instead. Still, her passion
for science and honest inquiry has remained and married itself to her love of the Gospel.
Ami is married to Vladimir and together they have four amazing children -- three in college and
one in elementary school, where Ami is president of the Family School Organization. Vladimir
is the better cook, but Ami is the better baker. She also knits, gardens, stares at clouds, and sings.
She can only do three of these at the same time.
Besides two published computer graphics books and several magazine tutorials, she writes
science fiction and has a couple of short stories published. You can find her blog at
www.amichopine.com.
Ami was surprised to not be given a calling as some kind of teacher the last time she was called
into the bishop's office. She currently serves as the Young Women Secretary -- somewhat
challenging for the girl whose grandmother used to call the absentminded professor.