How to Be an Epistemic Trespasser

Abstract

Over the last two years, there has been a lot of talk about expertise: who has it, who doesn’t, who is claiming it but shouldn’t. Amid a global pandemic that has brought tremendous uncertainty and damaged our health, learning, livelihoods, and happiness, ensuring that policymakers base their decisions on the correct expertise seems crucial. And, pandemically speaking, the definition of expert appears to be self-evident: Anthony Fauci, an immunologist who has long served as the director of the U.S. National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, fits the bill. Former U.S. president Donald Trump, selfproclaimed genius, does not. Yet, we’ve seen frequent accusations, across the media and academic landscapes, of what philosopher Nathan Ballantyne calls “epistemic trespassing”: people without relevant knowledge or credentials opining in public forums on matters they know nothing about.1 Commentators warn that listening to these false experts, particularly when it comes to crucial policy or public health matters, could have catastrophic consequences. I’ve observed these attempts to identify and police epistemic trespassers with some discomfort. As a science and technology studies (STS) scholar, I know that politics and knowledge are inextricably intertwined, and that policyrelevant knowledge and expertise are not always clear. National political cultures and histories shape not only how we define but also how we reason through public problems.2 At the level of particular policy domains,