OCCAM'S RAZOR EXPOSED
Years ago, when I had just joined the university and knew nothing
about teaching loads, I was talked into team-teaching an extra
course that dealt with the interaction between science and the
humanities. Nowadays, with post-modern culture wars going on, the
word "interaction" in that context means a shouting match. At that
time, though, it was still possible to accept another person's
arguments on good faith and have a discussion.
My fellow teacher - and good friend - was an expert in medieval
thought and religious ethics. He, of course, represented the
humanities while I, an agnostic engineer/scientist, spoke for the
sciences. With one exception, the students were all from the
humanities. They were quick-witted, bright, eager and almost
totally ignorant of the scientific method. So one of the first things I
did was to tell them the principle of Occam's razor. Meaning, " use
the simplest explanation, it's usually the best."
My friend, who ever since the atomic bomb, had distrusted
scientists, disliked Occam's razor with a passion. He told the
students not to fall for simplistic notions when dealing with people.
As examples he'd point out recurring features in all civilizations
such as for instance, round holes in the roof of primitive huts. This,
he said, indicated a universal desire to connect with the gods above.
I argued that it signified a universal desire to let the smoke out. The
students immediately took sides and began to debate the subject
with great enthusiasm. All in all, it was the most lively course I
ever took part in.
Most of our students seemed to like the course just for the fun of
scholarship, the give and take of argument. But one them, a hippie
type I shall call Pete, had a different reason. His aim was to connect
with Melissa, a pretty girl who took care to sit as far away from
him as possible. Being thwarted in his attempts at communication,
Pete hit upon an ingenious strategy. In his answers to general
questions he would devise hypothetical scenarios in which Melissa
played a big role. Talking about the suppression of the theater under
Cromwell - whom he insisted on calling King Grompert - he'd say,
"Now look at it this way. Suppose Melissa and I were to go to the
theater one night..." And then he was off on an unlikely story in
which at the end, Melissa and he were practically engaged. I suspect
he'll emerge as one of our leading playwrights any time now.
I'm long since back to teaching science where no student ever argues
with you. After all, who is bold enough to question Newton's laws,
let alone Occam's razor. But I miss Pete a lot.
At Random - Adrian Korpel
