Many years ago we bought a bookcase in an auction sale, and discovered, to our surprise, that we had also bought a box of assorted books. One of them was a nineteenth century treatise on childbirth. It was a serious book, and contained a claim that it was the last word on the subject, and that nothing new would be discovered. Reading it for two minutes was sufficient to demonstrate that it was almost complete rubbish.
The book was in fact an intriguing illustration of an arrogant – and misplaced – certainty that was a feature of many aspects of Victorian society. By the twentieth century no scientist would contemplate the kind of assertion made in the childbirth treatise. Indeed, no scholar in any field would be likely to claim, or believe, that he or she had written the last word on a subject. All would recognise that scholarly research and inquiry is a continuing process.
Accusations
Most people, I imagine, would readily accept that that is the case. That makes it all the more surprising that in some areas of life – and above all in politics – we seem to expect certainty as the necessary pre-requisite for credibility. As we in the United Kingdom work ourselves into a pre-election frenzy of excitement (or, to be more accurate, as the politicians and the media are doing their best to work us into such a frenzy) any suggestion by a politician that there may be a reason for doubt or uncertainty produces accusations of incompetence or lack of commitment, or both.
Yet with many of the issues with which the politicians deal there are very good reasons for doubt and uncertainty. Who, for example, can say with certainty what the financial situation will be in a year's time – or what ought to be done about it? If you want the views of distinguished economists, you can take your pick. In a letter to the Sunday Times, twenty economists wrote in favour of the opposition Conservative Party's view that budget cuts should begin this year. In the Financial Times, sixty seven economists took the view that early budget cuts at a time of high unemployment, and a time when domestic and business savings had increased, would endanger recovery. Both groups were able to make a credible case. I am not competent to make a judgment – but what is clear is that the issue is not clear cut.
In international affairs, to take another example, who can be sure what will happen in Afghanistan? Or in West Asia? Any honest assessment must surely accept the reality that there is considerable uncertainty about these matters.
There are many other examples of matters where uncertainty is the reality. How will the public's view of bankers develop, and how will it be affected if, for example, the general level of unemployment remains high? How will people react if – when – public services are cut back because costs have to be cut?
Rather more recognition by politicians that around these and many other matters there are genuine reasons for uncertainty, would give me, at least, more confidence in their judgment than the constant criticism which they tend to make about their opponents' policies if there is even a hint of hesitation about them.
Clarity
One must obviously be realistic. No politician would win support – or deserve it – by saying: “I have no idea what is likely to happen, and no clue about how to deal with it”. That, however, is not what I am suggesting. In my book, a politician who had the courage to say: “Here is my policy, but we have to accept the possibility that circumstances may change, and if they do, the policy will have to be revised” would deserve recognition for credibility, rather than calumny.
The political world, like the scientific world, is complex. It is not static. To demand absolute certainty in responding to it is, I would suggest, a sign of immaturity.
If I am honest, I must admit that in expressing this view I am probably in a small minority. As the UK election campaign gathers momentum, I see little sign that many people would accept the expression of honest doubt by politicians as a strength rather than a weakness. I think that is a great pity. I may be being perverse, but I do believe that, in the twenty first century political world, we could learn from the scholars' change from assertion to continuing inquiry.
Bill Kirkman is an Emeritus Fellow of Wolfson College Cambridge, UK. Email him at: bill.kirkman@gmail.com
