THERE are about 3 million people in the US who believe our planet is flat. Buoyed by social media and increased publicity due to the Netflix documentary Behind the Curve, their numbers are growing. You should meet them. If you do, they are likely to ask: āHow confident are you that the Earth is round? How do you know?ā What would you say?
We have a better idea than most. For the past year, we have met regularly with our local flat-Earth group. We gather in a cafe around a flat table, marked by a sign of yellow Lego bricks shouting āFLAT EARTHā on a green background. Passers-by throw furtive glances at the sign, then at us.
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The meetings are intriguing. The flat-Earthers arenāt joking. They honestly believe that Earth is flat and stationary, that satellites donāt orbit and that Antarctica isnāt a real continent, but a ring of ice encircling the planet like salt on a margarita glass.
It isnāt that they are ignorant about science ā certainly not compared with the average citizen. The Pew Research Center scored an average of 6.7 out of 11 on a . We gave it to 20 of our flat-Earther friends. Their average score was 10.
But they do question everything about mainstream science. Flat-Earthing is like buying internet service. It comes with optional extras: denial of gravity, anti-vaccination allegiance, rejection of Albert Einsteinās relativity. People bundle, picking and choosing the package they like best.
Some of this is commendable. A questioning attitude is, after all, a distinctive mark of rationality and central to the empirical process. Flat-Earth activists stand out among science deniers in setting up instruments, taking measurements and sharing results. We have collaborated with them to try to determine whether a lakeās surface follows a round planetās predicted curve, and how much shadows lengthen at higher latitudes on the winter solstice, with as-yet inconclusive results. True, these āexperimentsā may be poorly designed. But flat-Earthers care about truth, even if their conclusions differ from our own.
Our interactions have mellowed our attitudes. The meetings are a blast. We leave each one with questions that we would have never thought to ask, and thinking of new ways to defend our scientific beliefs. We havenāt converted anyone yet, but we have convinced them to retire some of their weaker arguments.
Social psychologists talk about āā, the inherent human distrust of information from outside our social groups. In a world where information sources are overwhelmingly social, we all risk building belief echo chambers. Belief in a flat Earth is just one instance of this.
Of course, it is a fairly inconsequential one, compared with the harms of anti-vaccination beliefs, say. But those of us who want to respond to science deniers have a choice. We can ignore and ridicule them, or we can engage them on the common ground that we are all seeking truth.
Our General Theory of Anti-Conspiracy is this: āScience canāt be your enemy if scientists are your friend.ā Too frequently, science is seen as an impersonal imposition on belief, rather than a way to resolve disagreement with people you care about.
So this is our suggestion. Search online for your local āflat Earthā or āvaccine alternativesā group and spend an evening with people you have only seen demonised and debunked on YouTube ā not as an antagonist, but as a friend. When they ask why youāre there, tell the truth: āI donāt believe in what you believe, but Iām open to being wrong and I want to hear what you have to say.ā Try it. It might just begin to change some minds.
