Is 'Science' Always Right? Exploring the Truth Behind the Claims

In today's world, science is often seen as the ultimate truth. When experts announce a "new study finds," we tend to take it as absolute. But is everything labeled as "scientific" truly accurate? To unravel the essence of scientific truth, we must delve into its roots.

Imagine a 17th-century astronomer. His nights are filled with detailed stargazing. He notes down celestial positions, tracks their movements, and accumulates heaps of data. This is the first stage in science: Gathering empirical data—information obtained directly from reality through the senses.

Our scientist, like Newton after him, isn't satisfied with just long lists. He begins to seek patterns, a formula to explain why stars move the way they do. He formulates a theory—a model that offers predictions about future stellar movements. This is the second stage: Analysis and pattern deduction.

But that's not where the story ends. If the theory is accurate, it should withstand the test of reality. Other scientists verify the predictions, conduct experiments, document observations, and search for contradictions. If the theory passes all these tests, it is considered "scientific." However, note this: Only if the theory can be disproven is it deemed scientific. If it's not disprovable, it's like someone claiming "invisible rain will fall tomorrow." You can't say he's wrong, but you can't say he's right either. This principle is known as the Principle of Falsifiability. Only when research meets the criterion of falsifiability can it be considered "scientific."

According to the falsifiability principle, we can rank scientific fields based on how easily they can be disproven. At the top are fields like mathematics and physics, where any theory can be subjected to clear tests. Beneath them are less precise fields like chemistry and biology, and even lower—social sciences and history. In these areas, truth is often determined more by interpretation and public discourse than by unequivocal evidence.

Picture two conferences: one a history conference, the other a physics conference. At the history conference, two scholars disagree on whether a certain custom existed in an ancient kingdom. Each presents their interpretation of the sources, but without clear experiments or proof, the audience's opinion prevails. In contrast, at the physics conference, a scientist presents an experiment clearly demonstrating how particle movement changes under specific conditions. There is no debate—the evidence speaks for itself. Unlike the historian, the physicist can prove his point without any rhetoric.

Now let's bring this into our world. We often hear statements about religion like "there's no scientific evidence for the Exodus," or "scholars claim the Bible was written during the Second Temple period," or "evolution is scientifically proven." Let's see if these fields stand up to the principle of falsifiability.

Let's begin with archeology. How do you disprove an archeological study? In fields like physics, nothing is easier. One scientist claims a particle has a certain property, a test is run, and the result is observed. However, in archeology, there are no predictions, so there's no ability to disprove based on observations. So what do we have? Interpretation of findings. And it looks roughly like this: a researcher claims "there are no findings for the Exodus." The claimant assumes there should be findings, but should there be? Archeological evidence is usually found in cities, where permanent structures indicate where to dig and help preserve evidence. But with a nomadic people in the desert using tents, what can one find? A frying pan buried ten meters deep in the middle of nowhere in the desert? Sometimes the absence of evidence only demonstrates archaeology's limitations in certain cases.

And what about evolution? It cannot be recreated over millions of years in a lab. So what is done? Findings are interpreted, and experiments are conducted to simulate evolution. For instance, scientists perform experiments on bacterial populations in the lab, showing how mutations develop resistance and adaptation to the environment. The problem here is that this only proves changes within a species itself, known as "micro-evolution." It doesn't prove anything about the ability of mutations to create entirely new species. Also, such micro-evolutionary changes have only been recreated in microorganisms—on bacteria and such—and there is no proof that it can occur in more complex organisms.

And what about findings? In evolution, there are two types of findings: either the species did not change because it adapted to its environment, or the species changed because it didn't adapt. Which means no matter what the findings are—they fit the theory of evolution.

To illustrate this issue, let's consider an example: The deer is known for its magnificent antlers, but to evolutionary researchers, they were a problem. Sometimes the antlers of specific deer can weigh up to forty kilograms. That's very heavy relative to the deer's weight, and completely unnecessary for survival. So what was the researchers' answer? "The handicap principle." The heavier the deer's antlers, the more it shows females that it is strong enough to burden itself, making it preferable to other males. Evolution is simply too flexible a theory: no matter what the findings are, a survival benefit or a disadvantage with various justifications can always be found. Such a flexible theory is not disprovable and is merely a theory, not the "scientific" kind.

Evolution also has another problem: according to evolutionary theory, species development stems from random mutations in DNA. But how can randomness be proven? Even if a cause can't be found, it doesn't prove there's no cause. And since randomness cannot be proven, the randomness aspect of evolution remains merely an assumption.

Having better understood the principles of science, it's clear that not everything is physics, and not all sciences are the same. So what actually happens in less precise fields? The ones who control the information channels decide public opinion. And like all humans, those in control have an agenda, and be sure they're promoting it. With all due respect to archaeologists and evolutionary researchers, they do a fantastic job, but the margin of error in their fields is simply too large to be considered exact sciences, and ultimately, their opinions are shaped by an agenda rather than "scientific" criteria.