REVELATIONS IN SCIENCE: Is it always good to rush toward a goal — and which one exactly
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Should a person be glad when a scientific concept or a real object is named after them? Sometimes, of course, yes: the names «Cauchy’s criterion», «Taylor series», and «L’Hôpital’s rule» justly glorify the mathematicians who enriched science with these concepts. The case of «beef Stroganoff» is a bit more complicated: Count Stroganoff didn’t invent it and couldn’t cook at all, but he paid a salary to the chef who came up with this popular dish, which is also a kind of merit… But, say, the expression «Pyrrhic victory» hardly brought glory to King Pyrrhus of Epirus.
Something similar happened with Duane Tolbert Gish (1921–2013), the youngest of nine children in a large American family, who behaved quite honorably on the fronts of World War II, even receiving the Bronze Star, and later earned a Ph.D. in biochemistry at Berkeley. An entire gait of racehorses and other animals is named after him — that’s how the encyclopedia defines the word «gallop», while the concept of the «Gish Gallop» has firmly entered science. Should Gish’s descendants and followers be proud of that?
FAITH INSTEAD OF EVIDENCE
G
ish was not just a doctor of biochemistry — he was a young-earth creationist. Creationists believe that the world was created by God, and it is as hard to disprove this as it is to prove it. But old-earth creationists agree that the six days of creation may be allegorical, that each of these days could represent entire epochs, and some of them do not even dispute that our planet is at least four billion years old, as scientific data suggests.
Young-earth creationists, however, are firmly convinced that every word in the Bible must be understood literally, that the world was created in exactly 144 hours — about 6,000 years ago. The Irish bishop James Ussher even calculated that it happened on October 23, 4004 BC, on a Saturday, of course. Therefore, for young-earth creationists, many conclusions of geology, biology, and other sciences are not worth a spit — in the only chronology they recognize, there simply isn’t enough time for them.
Lately, so much evidence has emerged proving the validity of generally accepted views of life on Earth — whose history spans billions of years — that it might seem young-earth creationists should feel very uncomfortable in public debates. But Duane Gish was hardly bothered by that.
In numerous scientific debates, evolutionary opponents often failed to respond to him convincingly. It seemed they were confused and simply didn’t know what to say in reply. Meanwhile, Gish kept producing argument after argument with such speed that there was no time to refute them. Uninitiated listeners saw that he spoke a lot and confidently, while those who tried to counter him failed to make their case. To some, it even seemed that Duane Gish was completely right, proclaiming the ultimate truth.
THE METHOD OF AVOIDING TRUTH
More serious people had long noticed that Gish’s arguments were, at the very least, weak — and at times outright nonsense — but his opponents couldn’t refute them because there were too many, and it was hard to even decide which one to challenge first.
To convincingly and thoroughly refute the arguments that Gish or his followers would throw at you with emotional energy during a five-minute monologue (and remember, five minutes of continuous speech is a long time), you’d need several hours — but who would agree to listen to you that long? And since you didn’t manage to refute all your opponent’s claims — well, that must mean he won, right?
Moreover, even if after a long speech someone finally managed to question all of Gish’s arguments, in just five minutes he’d churn out as many new ones — no matter how absurd they were — and why wouldn’t he? Refuting those would again take hours, but who would stay to listen? The audience would either fall asleep or leave, and by the next day, they’d probably conclude that Gish had indeed been more concise and convincing…
If a phenomenon exists, it must have a name. In 1994, American anthropologist Eugenie Scott gave this technique a very precise and vividly expressive title: the «Gish Gallop». You can easily picture a dishonest debater galloping headlong somewhere, hooves clattering, dropping arguments from under his tail — arguments utterly indigestible to anyone except dung beetles, and with a very distinctive smell. They ought to be cleaned up, of course, but by the time that’s done, the debate is already over, and the galloper has raced off wherever they pleased.
Would anyone dare to refute his weak and false claims? Excellent! That’s exactly what he needs! Back in 2013, Italian programmer Alberto Brandolini formulated his famous «Principle of Bullshit Asymmetry», which states that the amount of energy required to refute nonsense is an order of magnitude greater than that needed to produce it. By the time you’re done debunking it, every participant in the discussion will have at least fallen asleep — if not died of hunger.

NOT ONLY IN SCIENCE
The Gish Gallop is used quite effectively across the boundless expanses of the internet — a place where discussions carry an added burden of hopelessness and futility. In particular, because on the internet one can always find a million foolish and nonsensical objections to any argument made by an opponent, and then bombard them with links to all of it, so thoroughly that there’s no time not only to respond to this nonsense but even to read it.
Moreover, for every new counterargument, the galloper will throw in ten more of the same absurdity — just to bury the opponent up to the crown of their head. And if no arguments, not even the worst ones, can be found, no problem, an ordinary insult will do. The opponent, foolish enough to respond to it, wastes their time on that too.
The Gish Gallop is also actively used in political debates — that’s its natural habitat. You dump on your interlocutor the longest possible list of accusations, distorted facts, statistical data ripped clean out of context, to which it’s easy to add outright personal attacks, not to mention the swearing, skillfully shuffling politics, economics, and assaults on private life, and what can they possibly answer you?
It’s not even that the opponent will most likely be flustered — the audience will immediately think he’s under fire, that he has something to hide, that he cannot give clear answers. You don’t even need to win the debate — it’s enough if the audience gets the impression that something shady is going on…
WHY ARGUE AT ALL THEN?
Here’s a typical example of the Gish Gallop in action. An anti-vaxxer comes to a discussion about vaccines and immediately lays out that:
a) vaccines cause autism — Wakefield proved it;
b) they contain toxic mercury and aluminum;
c) pharmaceutical companies hide the side effects of vaccines;
d) vaccines are ineffective — people still get sick;
e) natural immunity is better than vaccine-induced immunity;
f) the government wants to control us through vaccines;
g) too many vaccines overload a child’s immune system;
h) vaccines contain cells from aborted fetuses…
Some people are already convinced — surely all of this can’t be wrong, and if at least something is true, then what? Nothing — but explaining that takes far longer than listening, even though we know that:
a) Wakefield’s paper was eventually retracted due to found errors and inaccuracies;
b) the mercury and aluminum compounds present in vaccines are non-toxic;
c) if pharmaceutical companies are hiding something, why are you telling us about it? No answer? Thought so;
d) people still get sick, but far less often;
e) explain in what way it’s better, and refute the claim that some immunity is better than none;
f) tell us exactly how;
g) present evidence;
h) are you sure? Always? Without exception?
And the main point — what’s the use of all this? Each of these claims has to be unpacked and explained; inevitably, you’ll phrase something less than perfectly clearly, creating the illusion that something’s being concealed from the audience…
One shouldn’t be too upset, because discussions are a risky, thankless business with a very low efficiency rate. Dale Carnegie quite reasonably argued that winning an argument is impossible — the more convincing your arguments, the more emotionally your opponent will reject them, regardless of who’s right. You can’t really change your opponent’s mind; viewpoints rarely shift as a result of debate (there are exceptions, but exceptions are rare by definition).
It’s no coincidence they say that scientific schools holding erroneous views are not persuaded — they die out, because the more convincing arguments of the correct theory are adopted by the young, who don’t join the ranks of the mistaken, while the senior representatives of the old view simply aren’t eternal.
Carnegie, by accident (or rather, on purpose), slightly distorted the issue — it’s almost impossible to change your opponent’s mind, but it is possible to persuade third parties listening to the debate who don’t yet have a firm opinion about who’s right. The trouble is, the Gish Gallop is precisely what works best on that part of the audience.
WHAT TO DO ABOUT THE GISH GALLOP?
Is there any way to counter this powerful technique? Or is it invincible and not even worth trying? On the contrary, there is — and quite an effective one. Just don’t forget that a discussion is a discussion, not a shouting match or a medieval town meeting. A proper discussion must have a moderator who ensures that several important rules are followed.
First and foremost — time limits. Speeches shouldn’t last longer than the agreed time. And that time shouldn’t be too long, so that fans of the Gish Gallop don’t launch into endless speeches that leave part of the audience asleep, part off looking for food, and the rest buried in their phones. Today, the Gish Gallop is often called «proof by verbosity» — so verbosity should be curbed by strict timing.
A good bridle on this gallop consists of a few well-tested techniques. For instance, when the galloping orator finally reaches the end of their speech, you might politely remark that they’ve offered far too many arguments in favor of their position — and ask them to point out the strongest and most reliable one to discuss first. Then you can dismantle that «proof» completely and gently inquire what’s the point of discussing the rest if the strongest argument turned out to be nonsense.
There’s also a mirrored version of this approach: among the pile of arguments, find the weakest and most absurd one — which usually isn’t hard — take it apart, and ask whether it’s even worth analyzing the arguments of a speaker capable of saying such a thing. The common goal in both cases is to show that discussing every statement made during the gallop is meaningless.
Another way to reduce the deliberately inflated volume of discussion is to state right away that certain arguments are incorrect or irrelevant, so there’s nothing to talk about there. If necessary, ask whether the obviously dubious claims have any evidence other than the speaker’s passionate desire to make them. Don’t stray from the main topic — and don’t let the galloping opponent do so either, because that’s exactly what they want.
And one more very important thing: as soon as you recognize the Gish Gallop, announce it publicly. You see, the Gish Gallop shares the same quality that, according to medieval legends, the devil himself possessed — it weakens and loses its power when you call it by its true name. So don’t lose confidence — the Gish Gallop is an unpleasant and dangerous thing, but it can indeed be tamed.
LITERATURE
- D. Gish. Creation Scientists Answer Their Critics. «Bible for All», Washington, 1995, 301 p.
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