I remember the time when as a child I used to spend hours staring at the sky, particularly enjoying those stargazing moments during late evenings with a clear sky and good breeze. The sky was like a painting for me, a large work of art suspended above the earth by someone big enough to do that. The painting was made richer by the stories about its constituents, like the woman sitting on the moon weaving clothes for us to wear. (If you look closely, with assumed ignorance, you will see a vague shape formed by moon's spots). There was great beauty and wonder in those images, a sense of being a part of a larger world that could be explained by interesting stories that somehow seemed to connect every entity with every other entity in some way or the other. Then I grew up. I learned more about the 'sky' I was seeing at night, and what formed it. I learned more about the stars and the moon. I was told, to my utter dismay, that sun is just a stupid big ball of hot gas, and not a wise God riding a chariot with seven horses. There was disappointment, but I was too busy studying and playing to reflect on what I had lost, or to truly appreciate what I had gained. At some level I did feel a loss, but couldn't identify its true nature. I had unknowingly made a trade-off of sorts.
In this sense, not too long ago all humans were like my child self. They had stories about the world, because they didn't have the kind of knowledge we now have. They were ignorant of the scientific interpretation of their reality. Then Science happened, not as a sudden event but as an evolutionary process catalysed by some triumphs or revolutions. These days the judgment of the scientist is received with the same reverence as the judgment of priests, witch doctors and tribal leaders was accepted not too long ago. This move towards 'demythologisation' was largely motivated by the wish to avoid any clash between religion and scientific ideas. If such a clash occurs, then science was certainly right and religion wrong. Science has that privileged, centred position that marginalises all else that may come in the way, religion, myths, everything.
Science and the scientific truth dominate. The education system just indoctrinates us into a given 'scientific truth', which is the unquestionable absolute. It neither encourages imagination to run nor does it make a serious attempt to waken the critical abilities to see things in perspective. Though we have to acknowledge that science has found some truth that we weren't aware of earlier, this 'truth' has taken a disproportionately prominent position in our lives and our social systems. Though intended to be an instrument of change and liberation, it has become so rigid that it is oppressive, almost as oppressive as the ideologies it had once to fight.
"Truth" appears to be a neutral word, and in many ways it is. Nobody would deny that it is commendable to speak the truth, but we must be aware of the implications of always measuring ourselves against a single, absolute standard like this. Must we always follow only the scientific truth? Must it be the only standard? The argument that rigidity of science is 'natural' and there is no choice in it needs to be examined carefully. It is crucial to acknowledge that human life is guided by many ideas and ideals. Truth is just one of them. Freedom, beauty, imagination, emotional and spiritual fulfillment are some of the others. Some of these may be better at providing that crucial nourishment that goes into fulfilling our existence. Just finding the 'truth' is important, but not necessarily fulfilling, and fulfillment is crucial life. We must appreciate that if truth, as conceived by some, conflicts with our sense of spiritual fulfillment, then we do have a choice. We may abandon this sense of spiritual fulfillment, or we may abandon truth, or we may adopt a more sophisticated idea of truth that doesn't contradict spiritual fulfillment. The way modern science manifests through its socio-cultural and economic vehicles, it inhibits such freedom of thought and choice. It must proselytize the child (and his grandma) who believe in the lady on the moon, no matter how harmless that imagination may be, and do so with such efficient permanence that such imagination would never dare raise its head again.
I am not trying to romanticise the primitive, but attempting to carefully acknowledge the limits of the role of scientific truth in our lives, and to boldly place this truth alongside other important ideas and aspects of life, some of which it may be at odds with.
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