A Voice From The Past

One memory I have from the early weeks of the Covid response is that, having begun to ask questions, I fully expected that within a reasonable amount of time (months, not years), the weak foundations of that response would be widely recognized and the public would be able to return to some semblance of 'old normal'. This, of course, turned out to be naive optimism. I had far too much confidence in what I assumed would be an open and rigorous search for scientific answers to the basic questions surrounding the supposedly sudden appearance of the SARS-2 virus. What actually unfolded was very far from that ideal scenario. At every turn, conflicts of interest and ideological commitments shaped the 'science' on Covid, even as public health authorities presented themselves as objective arbiters of the truth. Meanwhile, governments (through legacy and social media platforms) were busy trying to suppress any dissenting views, even (especially) as their policies led to widespread suffering and death. All of this is now very well documented. At the time I knew, at least in theory, that science never happens in a vacuum, and that there are a range of factors that shape the way that it is practiced and the sort of knowledge claims that are generated in the process. I had even taught university courses that covered these topics. Even so, I did not expect such a wide gap between evidence and interpretation to open up so quickly and to be doggedly ignored by so many as they clung to a story that better served their prior commitments.

My focus here is not to review the many ways in which the mainstream response to 'Covid' limited and thus distorted scientific analysis. I have discussed some of these failings in previous substack posts, and many others have done much more to fill in the details of such a critique. Instead, I wish to highlight an area of academic research that sheds a great deal of light on the complex relationship between science and public policy. I do so with some trepidation, as an interloper in specialized fields of research to which I have had only limited exposure. But the effort seems worth it. Scientific research of one sort or another is now routinely claimed to inform officially sanctioned perspectives on just about everything, lending those perspectives an aura of legitimacy. What is often obscured are the messy processes behind the scenes, where conflicts of interest, political influence, lack of robust data, unquestioned assumptions, and many other all-too-human factors play a decisive role in shaping what is accepted as 'knowledge'. From this perspective, the formation of Covid policy fits into a recognizable pattern, even if the impact in this case has been unprecedented in scale.

Oddly enough, my path into this research went through that Canadian establishment bastion, the CBC. From November 2007 to June 2008, the CBC Radio Ideas program broadcast a set of interviews by David Cayley entitled "How to Think About Science". I dimly remember listening to at least some of them at the time. They came back to my attention after March of 2020, however, when Cayley emerged as one of the most thoughtful (and neglected) Covid-response critics in Canada. By this time Cayley had been retired for years, but was about to publish what might be considered his magnum opus, Ivan Illich: An Intellectual Biography (2021). I like to think that his dissident stance would have been just as strong even if he had still been working for the CBC. At first glance he is an unlikely candidate for such a role, having spent decades focused on issues that a left-leaning, 'progressive' audience would appreciate (environmentalism, climate change, justice reform, etc). A deeper look, however, reveals themes and concerns that make Cayley's critique less surprising. This can be seen quite clearly in his deep respect for the Catholic thinker and activist Ivan Illich, a contrarian if there ever was one. There is some irony in the fact that Cayley's views on all things Covid must have appalled most of his former CBC audience, or at least the few that were aware of them.

Cayley's reflections on the Covid response deserve their own treatment, but this will have to wait for another time. Here I focus on a single interviewee from "How to Think About Science", a UK academic named Brian Wynne. This narrow focus is adopted for reasons of convenience, with the assumption that what Wynne has written on science and public policy is somewhat representative of the kinds of discussions that have been happening in at least some academic circles over the past several decades. Historically, much of this work was rooted in concerns about the environmental impact of human technology (including its consequences for human health), concerns which became more mainstream in the 1960s. For at least half a century before the so-called 'Covid crisis' began in 2020, then, a growing body of in-depth analyses of the complex relationships between technology (and the science purportedly informing it), health (human and otherwise) and public policy has existed. A number of themes from this research can be related to aspects of the War on Covid and thus deserve our attention here. My original plan was to sample from Wynne's publications over four decades, but I was so impressed with an early article, from 1975, that I decided to limit my focus to it alone. This fits well with one of my aims, namely, to show that the relationship between science and public policy has been the subject of serious investigation for some time. But quite apart from the historical dimension, Wynne's observations from half a century ago are quite relevant to many of the issues that came to the forefront in 2020.

The article in question is entitled "The rhetoric of consensus politics: a critical review of technology assessment". Wynne's concern is to show that, typically, the social impact of technology is evaluated in a way that "conceal[s] the most significant aspects of the issue - namely the structure of sociopolitical institutions and interests which create new technology - in a convenient rhetorical smokescreen." This concealment is effected by means of an appeal to what is presented as objective knowledge, i.e. accounts of reality that are claimed to be in a direct relationship with 'the facts'. Insofar as these accounts are widely accepted they form the basis of a "social myth" which, according to Wynne, "can often be an extremely powerful agent of arbitrary political authority." To see through the myth we need to understand that there is no such thing as the "innocent collection of data", let alone its interpretation. Rather, those claiming objectivity are guided by a whole set of undeclared prior commitments, and "[t]hese often unarticulated, unseen assumptions serve to define where and how to look, what is relevant when we do look, what meanings certain events have, and so on. In this view, there are no such things as virgin facts. The logic of this account is that when a body of knowledge is articulated which purports to tell people 'how it is', it also inevitably, if tacitly, includes an element of what their aims and aspirations are or should be, what meanings attach to their social activities, and so on. When consensus is secured on, e.g. a particular definition of a social situation, then much else of a highly political nature is secured along with it. One accepts such definitions like a Trojan horse crammed with concealed political authority."

It is the wide acceptance of such supposedly 'objective' accounts of 'the way things are' that is particularly disturbing to Wynne. Important issues and questions remain hidden. The survival and flourishing of the dominant institutions of society "is secured... by the elaboration of a particular definition not only of 'how it is' in society but also covertly along with this definition, of the articulation of a particular set of implicit social goals and values which structures the perception of the majority of the population so that they accept the legitimacy of those institutions. The structure of legitimation of political power and authority is rearranged gradually rather than dramatically... The very frequency and amplitude of its repetition almost guarantee public acceptance of such a reality, other alternatives being gradually rendered, quite literally, inconceivable... [I]t is not so much that outright technocracy or totalitarianism will reign, but that the prevailing freedom to pursue diverse social goals will remain unchallenged by the majority of people." In other words, most people are blissfully unaware of the ways in which their perceptions and values are being shaped by what is essentially political rhetoric dressed up as 'science', intended to secure the pursuit of particular goals by those in power.

Wynne makes clear that he doesn't view this dynamic in a conspiratorial way: those who produce and support such rhetoric typically think that what they are asserting is in fact a true account of reality, and are convinced that the values informing their policies, insofar as these are even articulated, really should be framing the discussion. The rhetoric of such people "simply pick[s] up unself-consciously some of the myths and assumptions that serve tenuously to glue together and rationalize the prevailing social structure." Once these myths and assumptions and goals are firmly in place, citizens are encouraged (and inclined) to "abandon [them]selves to the experts who shall select the most effective means" to the achievement of certain outcomes. This allows "the political nature of many premises guiding technical action" to be concealed, and "consolidates a utilitarian mode of politics in which we are enjoined to accept the present 'means', however abhorrent, in the promise of fulfillment tomorrow of our 'social ends.'" The result of this widespread lack of self-awareness is clear: when the underlying assumptions about reality and value promoted by dominant institutions are largely invisible both to those who govern and to a large majority of the governed, society "lurch[es] along more or less accidentally under the influence of arbitrary power sustained by bodies of myth and rhetoric that are elaborated in response to major threats to the survival of that power..."

This bleak perspective on the ways that policy-making typically deals with new technology is, not surprisingly, at odds with what the proponents of technology assessment say about their enterprise. Wynne quotes them at length throughout his article. One example should be enough to convey their ambitions: "Technology Assessment is the process of taking a purposeful look at the consequences of technological change. It includes the primary cost benefit analysis of short-term localized market place economics but particularly goes beyond these to identify affected parties and unanticipated impacts in as broad and long-range fashion as is possible. It is neutral and objective, seeking to enrich the information for management decision. Technology assessment is a tool for the renewal of our basic decision-making institutions - the democratic political process and the free market economy." As Wynne shows in his subsequent discussion, the 'technologies' envisioned here are not merely physical, but extend to the social sphere as well. The scope of this program is all of society, and its stated goals sound benevolent: cost benefit analyses, identifying unanticipated impacts, renewal, neutrality, objectivity.

What, then, is the problem? It is that this kind of perspective creates "a political process which is fundamentally distorted and emasculated by the aura of objectivity and trans-political legitimacy which surrounds science and technology. To call this form of politics democratic is fallacious in that it disregards the fact that technical and scientific issues can only be defined in terms of an (implicit or explicit) framework of premises and purposes of some kind. That is, it implicitly accepts the traditionally propagated view of scientific knowledge or technique as objective and trans-cultural in nature, and in so doing effects the concealment and consecration within the problem-as-defined, and thus within the general political consciousness, of assumptions and interests which are themselves politically loaded. It is also a more pervasive form of scientism just because it obscures the resultant distortion of the nature of politics and authority under the fallacious impression that politics is still alive and well." The social planners in such a political framework operate by means of an illusion of consensus which they ground in false claims of objectivity: all relevant factors have been taken into consideration and we now need only to act on our 'knowledge'. Debate is sidelined or shut down. It is assumed that definitive answers to certain questions about social problems have been obtained, but even more fundamentally, it is assumed that we have asked the right questions (which always go beyond science into the realms of ethics and values) and that we are perceiving the situation accurately in the first place.

In a more philosophical vein, Wynne argues that the predominant form of technology assessment (at least in the early 1970s, when he was writing) obscures the nature of technology itself. Just as there are no 'facts' detached from particular interests and points of view, so too technology invariably "embodies certain institutional values, interests and purposes. It becomes an integral part of a network of dominant symbols that serve to hold the social order together... The technology is, in a real sense, an agent of social control." No assessment of technology that fails to account for the latter's symbolic, political and institutional dimensions can be anything other than superficial, and serves only to hide the ways in which power is being used. It is crucial, then, to see that this bracketing out of the deeper dimensions of technology is built into the predominant modes of technology assessment: "When we understand that the very act of entry into such a mode of discourse involves the acceptance of a particular frame of reference, and of a wide range of culturally conditioned associations, meanings, etc. of which one may not even be aware, and which are beyond one’s own control and personal definition of the situation, then we are in a position to reject their colonization of social reality. Their attempt to foist a particular language or set of technical languages upon the political process is an attempt to forge a common context of social consent."

With the words "their colonization" Wynne is referring not only to those who defend the kind of technology assessment that he finds so problematic, but also to vast corporate interests that are more than willing to play a role in the 'improvement' of society if there is profit to be made: "The attempt to reformulate reality in accordance with a unified definition of the situation, supported by the claim of objective scholarship, can be quite clearly seen to reflect the concerns of a political-commercial body interested in finding a magic formula with which to transcend the harsh realities of political divergence and fundamental diversity of outlook... Given the increasing convergence between the interests and practices of government and the large corporations, we can identify here the bare bones of the corporate-industriaI society, with government acting more and akin to industry, and vice versa." This fusion of the political and the commercial, legitimized by a compliant academy, virtually eliminates the possibility that technologies will be evaluated with a wide range of social interests and perspectives taken into account. The public either has to submit to the 'objectivity' of this style of politics, or be dismissed as irrational, ignorant, or worse. Wynne does not mince words when describing the trajectory he sees unfolding: “[T]hrough the appeal to science and rationality the liberal democratic intelligentsia are increasingly attempting to develop and diffuse a uniform social language, on the basis of which can be wrought political consensus and control... The philosopher kings of this outlook point to the objectivity of scientific knowledge as the validation of this 'end-of ideology' managerial politics... It is an ideology which serves the interests of that class of corporate and political administrative managers that wish to see mass uniformity and an acquiescent polity, conflicting only within the secure and shallow confines of materialistic acquisition. Rather than seek diverse forms of fulfilment in diverse forms of technology, we are offered technological management for a utopian illusion."

The power of this illusion should not be underestimated. Wynne speculates that much of it is derived from a very basic human emotion: "Technology Assessment and Policy Science in general appear to be founded in a social psychology of fear - fear of self-awareness, and of confrontation with the existential ambiguity and insecurity of social and political life. Just as a scientist, when faced with a potentially anomalous result, rationalizes it away without questioning his fundamental assumptions and beliefs, so when our technologically inebriated society senses something wrong with its technology, the only thing it can conceive of in the way of solution is more of the same. The basic institutions, the premises, are not allowed into the light of critical review." In a particularly chilling passage, Wynne goes on to argue that such dysfunctional patterns of social organization often continue for a long time before any sort of corrective trend takes shape: "One might argue that testing the prevailing paradigm against reality provides the requisite safety factor against totalitarian control - that social revolution will follow, like scientific revolution, when the anomalies between paradigm or myth and reality begin to multiply and demand our response. But this scientistic mode of political change has nothing to recommend it. For just as scientists attempt all sorts of conceptual gymnastics in order to try and fit their anomalous observations to the current paradigm, so we can be certain that their scientistic political brethen will go to great lengths to abstract data from the social situation which will in turn be employed to strengthen the normative [emphasis in original] force of the paradigm, and to legitimate further social coercion in the name of that normative framework. In any case we will be a long time waiting for our revolution, for the social situation is more fluid than nature, and it is arguable that ‘the facts’ i.e. ‘relevant knowledge’... could be abstracted from the social realm to fit a particular vision of society for a long time after nature herself would have called ‘enough’, and demanded a conceptual revolution." What is needed, then, is not merely a different version of the kind of politics and social planning already on offer. Wynne warns against being satisfied with more of the same: "[U]nless changes in dominant values are accompanied by a change in the understanding of the authority of knowledge and technique in politics, then any new framework of criteria for assessment of technology might be as arbitrary and socially disastrous as the one that has obtained hitherto." This gets to the core of Wynne's argument. The paradigm informing both technology assessment and its policy-making cousin cannot be salvaged, but this need not lead to a reactionary stance: "We do not have to reject science and technology entirely in order to put them in their political place. Nor do we have to espouse latter day scientism in allowing them an appropriate place in the cultural fabric. A more natural and viable means of technology assessment might be first to try and understand the political, symbolic, economic and social content of technology, and the nature of scientific knowledge."

Whether or not one agrees with every aspect of Wynne's critique, or with the convictions that frame it, or even with his suggestions for a way forward, it is striking how relevant his critique remain today. The War on Covid produced many textbook illustrations of the dysfunctional policy-making and authoritarian control that Wynne warned against half a century ago: claims of objectivity that conceal unexamined (and unchallengeable) ideological and commercial interests; a supposed consensus on the (claimed) existence and nature of a problem and how to respond; the conditioning and perception-management of whole populations to unquestioningly accept certain views of 'reality', generating a deference to widely acknowledged 'experts'; collaboration between government and large corporations without any meaningful public input; the suppression of dissident views in the slow creep toward increasingly authoritarian forms of governance, fueled by fear. The pandemic managers responsible for Covid policy have shown that the legacy of the technology assessors of the '60s and '70s is not only very much alive, but has grown even stronger. And despite the fact that academic fields of inquiry with very sophisticated perspectives on the complex relationships between science, technology, society, and politics have been around for decades, they proved to be completely impotent when needed the most.

What was it that made so many people, from every background and profession, so willing to put their faith in the "philosopher-kings" of the Covid crusade, and what has made an alarming number persist in this faith in the face of the real-world failure of its objectives? Perhaps Wynne was right: we are far too enamoured of our technologies and far too trusting of those who claim to wield them for the public good. We have allowed the "colonization of social reality" by vested interests to such a degree that we largely failed to notice when our health and well-being were steadily eroded, or even when they were assaulted with emergency measures meant to keep us 'safe' from some vaguely-defined threat.

And yet... more and more people are noticing. On the distant horizon, the possibility of a kind of decolonization of public health seems to be taking shape. Where it will lead is anyone's guess. Perhaps Wynne's call for a more nuanced understanding of science, technology and politics will finally begin to bear fruit. Let’s hope we don’t have to wait another fifty years.