Christopher: The word 'pseudoscience' is a lie. Lucas: Whoa, okay. Starting strong today. What do you mean, a lie? Christopher: It's not a real category of knowledge. It's an insult, a weapon used to shut down ideas. And today, we’re exploring why the things you think are solid science might just be one bad political regime away from being labeled heresy. Lucas: That is a spicy take. I feel like half our listeners just sat up a little straighter. This sounds like we're walking into a minefield, and I am here for it. Christopher: That provocative idea is the core of a fascinating, and I think really important, book we're diving into today: On the Fringe: Where Science Meets Pseudoscience by Michael D. Gordin. Lucas: And Gordin isn't just some armchair philosopher. This guy is the Dean of the College at Princeton and a top-tier historian of science, especially Russian science. He knows how politics and science can get tangled up in really dark ways. Christopher: Exactly. His work has been widely acclaimed for its nuance, though some readers find it polarizing because he refuses to give easy answers. He challenges us to look at the blurry, messy borderlands of knowledge. So let's start with the ghosts of science past—ideas that we now call pseudoscience, but were once the peak of intellectual achievement.

Lucas: Ghosts of science past. I like that. You mean things that used to be legit but now... not so much? Christopher: Precisely. Gordin calls them "vestigial sciences." Think of them like a human appendix—once useful, now just kind of there, and occasionally causing problems. The perfect example he uses is astrology. Lucas: Oh, come on. Astrology? That’s the poster child for pseudoscience. It’s newspaper horoscopes and vague predictions about your love life. Christopher: Today, yes. But in Renaissance Italy, Gordin points out, astrology was the most mathematically sophisticated and empirically grounded science of its time. It was the equivalent of modern-day economics or data science. Rulers wouldn't make a major decision without consulting their astrologer. They used complex astronomical charts, meticulous calculations... it was high-tech. Lucas: Hold on. You're telling me that the same era that gave us the Renaissance masters and the beginnings of the scientific revolution was also obsessed with whether Mercury was in retrograde? Christopher: Not just obsessed—they saw it as essential. And here's the part that really breaks your brain: figures we revere as the fathers of modern science were deeply involved. Johannes Kepler, who gave us the laws of planetary motion, was a court astrologer. Galileo Galilei, the man who famously fought the Church to prove the Earth orbits the sun, also cast horoscopes for his patrons. Lucas: Wait, what? Galileo? The guy who said, "Eppur si muove"—"And yet it moves"—was also telling some duke, "Hey, don't sign that treaty, your moon is in a weird spot"? How do you reconcile those two things in one person? That feels like a massive contradiction. Christopher: It feels like one to us, because we live on this side of the scientific revolution. But Gordin’s point is that, at the time, it wasn't a contradiction at all. For them, astronomy and astrology were two sides of the same coin. One was about mapping the heavens, the other was about interpreting their meaning. They believed the cosmos was a unified, interconnected system, and the idea that the planets wouldn't have an influence on earthly affairs would have seemed absurd. Lucas: Okay, that's a fantastic reframe. It wasn't that they were being 'unscientific'; their very definition of the scientific universe included these connections. So what killed it? If it was so prestigious and practiced by the greatest minds, why is it now relegated to the back pages of magazines? Christopher: It wasn't a single event. It was a slow death by a thousand cuts over centuries. Part of it was scientific. Newton's physics proposed a universe governed by universal, mechanical laws of gravity, which didn't leave much room for planetary 'influences.' Another part was religious. The Protestant Reformation, for example, was deeply skeptical of what it saw as pagan fortune-telling. Lucas: So new science and new religion both chipped away at it. Christopher: Exactly. And culture changed, too. The world became, for lack of a better word, disenchanted. But the key takeaway is that astrology wasn't 'debunked' in a single, dramatic moment. It was 'fringed out.' The scientific consensus slowly moved on, and the people who clung to the old ways were eventually left behind, holding onto a vestigial science. Lucas: That’s a much more compelling story than just "people were dumb, and then they got smart." It’s about ideas having a 'sell-by' date. And if you keep believing after that date, you risk being called a pseudoscientist. Christopher: And that's the perfect lead-in. Because sometimes, an idea's sell-by date isn't determined by new data or slow cultural shifts. Sometimes, it's determined by a bullet.

Lucas: Okay, that's a dark turn. From a slow fade to a sudden death. What are we talking about here? Christopher: We're moving from vestigial sciences to what Gordin terms "hyperpoliticized sciences." This is where the line between science and pseudoscience isn't just blurry; it's drawn in blood. This is when a political ideology hijacks science and turns it into a weapon. Lucas: So this isn't just about being wrong. This is about being dangerously, ideologically wrong. Christopher: Precisely. The most infamous examples come from the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century. In Nazi Germany, you had the rise of "Deutsche Physik" or "Aryan Physics." Lucas: Aryan Physics? What on earth is that? Physics is math and observation. How can it be 'Aryan'? Christopher: Well, according to Nobel laureates Philipp Lenard and Johannes Stark, it could be. They argued that science was a product of race and blood. They rejected Einstein's theory of relativity and quantum mechanics, labeling them "Jewish Physics." They claimed these theories were too abstract, too counter-intuitive, and a product of a degenerate, non-Germanic mind. Lucas: That is absolutely insane. They rejected one of the most profound scientific breakthroughs in history because Einstein was Jewish? What did they propose instead? Christopher: They advocated for a return to a more 'grounded,' experimental physics based on classical mechanics. It was a complete distortion of science to fit a racist ideology. And while their movement ultimately failed to completely take over German physics, it created a climate of fear and contributed to the exodus of brilliant minds from Germany. Lucas: It's a chilling example of how ideology can try to bend reality to its will. But Gordin’s an expert on Russian history, so I have a feeling there's an even more potent story from the Soviet Union. Christopher: You are right. And it's arguably even more terrifying, because it succeeded. I'm talking about Lysenkoism. Lucas: I've heard the name, but I don't know the story. It sounds ominous. Christopher: It is. Trofim Lysenko was a Ukrainian agronomist in the Soviet Union under Stalin. He rejected mainstream Mendelian genetics—the kind of stuff we all learn in high school about dominant and recessive genes. He claimed it was 'bourgeois pseudoscience.' Lucas: Why? What was his alternative? Christopher: He promoted a version of an old idea that acquired characteristics could be inherited. He argued you could 'train' crops. For example, if you exposed wheat seeds to extreme cold, their offspring would 'learn' to be cold-resistant. He called it 'vernalization.' Lucas: Okay, but... that's not how genetics works. An organism's experiences don't change its genetic code to be passed down. Christopher: Of course not. But here's why it became so powerful. Stalin's Soviet Union was in the midst of a brutal and catastrophic collectivization of agriculture. They were desperate for a scientific miracle that could rapidly increase crop yields. Lysenko's theory, which promised to quickly re-engineer nature to serve the state, was perfectly aligned with communist ideology. It was the ultimate expression of man conquering nature. Lucas: So it was politically convenient, even if it was scientifically garbage. Christopher: Exactly. And Stalin loved it. He famously toasted Lysenko at a conference, saying "Bravo, Comrade Lysenko, bravo!" With that political backing, Lysenkoism became state doctrine. Classical genetics was outlawed. Lucas: What happened to the real geneticists? Christopher: This is where the story gets truly dark. They were systematically persecuted. Hundreds were fired, imprisoned, or executed. The most famous victim was Nikolai Vavilov, a world-renowned botanist and geneticist. He had created the world's largest seed bank, a priceless collection of plant diversity. Because he defended mainstream genetics, he was arrested, branded an enemy of the state, and sentenced to death. His sentence was commuted, but he died of starvation in a gulag prison in 1943. Lucas: That's horrifying. He was a world-class scientist who was essentially starved to death because his work didn't fit a political narrative. And what happened to Soviet agriculture? Christopher: It was a disaster. Lysenko's fraudulent methods were implemented across the country, contributing to devastating famines and setting Soviet biology and agriculture back for decades. It's the ultimate cautionary tale. Pseudoscience isn't just a quirky belief system; when hyperpoliticized, it can destroy lives and cripple nations. Lucas: This is so much bigger than I thought. We've had sciences that died out and sciences that were killed. What about the ones that refuse to die, the ones that fight back?

Christopher: That's the perfect question, and it brings us to Gordin's third category: "counterestablishment sciences." These are movements that don't just disagree with the mainstream; they believe the mainstream is fundamentally corrupt, conspiratorial, or suppressing the truth. Lucas: So they see themselves as the rebels, the true heroes of science fighting a corrupt empire. Christopher: Exactly. And to do this, they often mimic the very structures of the science they're fighting. They create their own journals, hold their own conferences, establish their own research institutes. Gordin argues that the first real example of this was phrenology in the 19th century—the belief that you could determine someone's character by the bumps on their skull. The scientific establishment dismissed it, so phrenologists created their own parallel universe of legitimacy. Lucas: But the big one that comes to mind today is creationism, right? Christopher: Absolutely. Creationism, especially in its "creation science" form, is the quintessential counterestablishment movement. After legal defeats like the Scopes Monkey Trial, and later court cases in the 80s that banned teaching it in public schools, the movement didn't give up. It got smarter. Lucas: How so? Christopher: Proponents like Henry Morris, a hydraulic engineer, and John Whitcomb, a theologian, published "The Genesis Flood" in 1961. They framed their argument not as religion, but as a scientific alternative to evolution, based on 'empirical evidence' of a global flood. They formed the Creation Research Society. They were building an intellectual and institutional fortress to wage a long-term war against Darwinism. Lucas: So they adopted the language and structure of science to attack science. That's a clever tactic. It feels like this playbook has been refined and is still very much in use today. Christopher: It's been refined into a terrifyingly effective art form. This is where Gordin's analysis connects directly to our modern world of misinformation. He touches on the strategies of denialism, which have been perfected by corporate interests. The most famous example is the tobacco industry. Lucas: Ah, the "doubt is our product" strategy. Christopher: Precisely. When the scientific consensus linking smoking to cancer became undeniable in the mid-20th century, the tobacco industry knew they couldn't win a head-to-head scientific debate. So they didn't try. Their goal wasn't to prove that smoking was safe; it was to manufacture uncertainty. They funded their own 'research,' promoted friendly scientists, and constantly argued that 'the science wasn't settled' and 'more research was needed.' Lucas: And the fossil fuel industry picked up that exact same playbook for climate change. Create industry-funded think tanks, publish reports that look scientific but aren't peer-reviewed, and muddy the waters just enough to confuse the public and delay political action. Christopher: It's the same strategy. And it's so insidious because it exploits the very nature of science. Science is supposed to have debate and uncertainty at the frontiers. Denialists take that normal, healthy skepticism and weaponize it to attack the solid core of scientific consensus. Lucas: So it's a spectrum! You have the well-meaning but outdated 'vestigial' guys like the astrologers, the dangerous 'hyperpoliticized' ideologues like Lysenko, and now these 'counterestablishment' rebels who are almost... professional contrarians. And it seems like this modern, corporate-funded denialism is the most insidious because it's not about proving an alternative truth. It's just about sowing chaos to protect profits. Christopher: And that chaos is incredibly effective. It paralyzes our ability to act on critical issues, from public health to the fate of the planet.

Lucas: Wow. Okay, so after all this—dead sciences, murdered sciences, and zombie sciences that refuse to die—what's the big takeaway? If the line between science and pseudoscience is this messy and political, what are we supposed to do? Christopher: I think that's Gordin's ultimate point. The line isn't a clean, fixed wall between 'science' and 'pseudoscience.' It's a dynamic battlefield of ideas, where power, politics, money, and belief are just as important as data. He argues that trying to find a single, perfect philosophical test to separate them—what philosophers call the 'demarcation problem'—is a fool's errand. Lucas: So we should just give up on the term 'pseudoscience'? Doesn't that feel a bit dangerous, like we're opening the door to a 'both-sides' free-for-all where we have to entertain flat-earthers and anti-vaxxers as legitimate? Christopher: I don't think he's saying we should give up, but that we should be more precise with our criticism. The real danger isn't someone believing in ghosts or astrology. As Gordin shows, most of these fringe beliefs are culturally harmless. The danger emerges when these beliefs are weaponized. Lucas: Right. When they become hyperpoliticized like Lysenkoism, or when they're used in a denialist campaign to block action on climate change. The problem isn't the 'pseudo,' it's the 'science' part being abused for harmful ends. Christopher: Exactly. The question isn't "Is this science?" The better question is "Who is making this claim, why are they making it, and what are the consequences?" It shifts the focus from an abstract philosophical debate to a concrete analysis of power and impact. Lucas: That's a much more useful framework. It makes you wonder... what accepted scientific 'truth' of our time is currently on the path to becoming a 'vestigial science' for our grandkids? And more importantly, how can we spot when science is being co-opted by politics or corporate interests before it's too late? Christopher: That's the question we should all be asking. The book doesn't give us an easy answer, but it gives us a historical map and a set of tools to think more critically about the knowledge we consume. We'd love to hear your thoughts. What's a belief you've seen move from the fringe to the mainstream, or vice versa? Let us know on our social channels. Lucas: This is Aibrary, signing off.