In the on-going "debate" about climate change, we've seen, over the past few years, attempts by the media to achieve what they call "balance" in any discussions about the topic.
This has meant that if they interview a climatologist or some other scientist with expertise in a particular area, they feel the compelling need to also interview someone else - anyone else - who might have a different opinion.
The same strategy, if you can call it that, has been used with the "discussion" about vaccines and some other topics that involve science and scientific knowledge.
The result of this practice has been to give the impression that there is a debate when there is none, at least not among people who might be expected to know what they are talking about. It's also given some people the impression that their opinions are perfectly valid and important, even when they are not, and that everyone else should respect their opinions.
A recent article in the Washington Post addresses this issue.
The reason seems to come from our desire to maintain some kind of group harmony, even if it means accepting opinions that are obviously wrong.
The other problem is that, according to the article, "We propose that those with limited knowledge in a domain suffer from a dual burden: Not only do they reach mistaken conclusions and make regrettable errors, but their incompetence robs them of the ability to realize it."
So why do we keep it up? Some people just don't know enough about a topic to offer any worthwhile opinion. Or, as the saying goes: "You're entitled to your own opinions, but not your own facts". And some opinions aren't worth much.
But are people really "entitled" to opinions? They can certainly "hold" such opinions, but does that mean that your opinions should be a serious candidate for the truth?
Not according to this writer in The Conversation.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
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