BRITISH PHILOSOPHER Bertrand Russell was fond of telling a story about a chicken. Every day when the sun rose, as it did, the chicken would wake, go outside and be fed. Because the same pattern repeated daily, there was no reason for the chicken ever to expect anything different. And yet one day, the sun rose, the chicken went outside to be fed and the farmer wrang its neck. We, Russell implied, are like the chicken, always assuming that what has been, will be. But, he asked, have we any real reason for believing in what he called ‘the uniformity of nature’? The best we can ever hope for, he argued, are probabilities, not certainty.
It’s a tough lesson. Yet if we thought about it, we’d recognize just how much of…
