When I interviewed Marcus du Sautoy for my Confessions podcast, the mathematician explained to me the initial attraction he felt towards maths as a young man. He was, he confessed, an “insecure” teenager – “spotty” and “nerdy”. And he was drawn to the “security” that mathematics seemed to promise – the compelling idea that these numbers spoke for themselves, that he didn’t have to argue for the truth that mathematics held out. The truth was just there, in the proof, in the symbols.
That discussion has been rattling around in my head over the past few weeks. And, in particular, the idea that there exists such a thing as truth that is so entirely self-evident that it ‘speaks for itself’. This idea about truth, it seems to me, is connected with the political maelstrom in which we now find ourselves. There’s a reason ‘Post-truth’ was chosen, in 2016, by the Oxford Dictionaries as their ‘Word of the year’ – the year of the Brexit referendum, the year of Trump’s victory in America.
The idea of truth has always had a powerful political valence. The promise it holds out is a little like the promise of monotheism – that the truth is singular and, therefore, is something that all human beings should rally around. Just as Du Sautoy’s mathematics is without agro, so too the truth itself promises a kind of peace between people, something around which we can all unite. It suggests a common and indisputable reference point, everyone singing from the same hymn sheet.
For a secular society, the self-evident truth of mathematics comes to be seen as a bit like the idea of the one holy Catholic church, only better (because true!). And those who are persuaded by this dream of truth-based politics are driven by a sort of utopianism, that we might negotiate our place in the world – do politics – without agro. Like the teenage du Sautoy.
However, the coming together of those who claim some unique access to truth and political power has a long and not especially distinguished history. Plato imagined the existence of philosopher-kings. That philosophers (like him), with their special attention to truth, are best suited to captain the ‘ship of state’.
Likewise, the Catholic church, in the person of the Pope, aligned religious truth and temporal power, claiming to base the latter on the former. And in our present age, it is the high priests of STEM who are credited with particular access to truth, and thus the best people to steer the political ship. Hence evidence-based policy, technocratic politics and the way scientists increasing feed into our decision making process. This is society as ‘rationally ordered’.
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