The Sherlock Holmes Collections at the University of Minnesota Library store more than 60,000 items of various kinds. It’s the largest repository of Holmes-related material in the world.

It seemed like the perfect refuge from some of the more acrimonious replies to last week’s re-run about intellectual relativism and my comments that preceded it. In case you missed it, here are some excerpts:

“I’ve been warning of the dangers of intellectual relativism for more than a decade now, for all the good it’s done.

Check out PolitiFact’s statistics about the two leading candidates for president and you’ll find that one almost literally invents his own facts, while the other speaks with reasonable accuracy in about 75% of her statements.

Which one is more honest isn’t in serious doubt. What is in serious doubt are our standards for veracity: Were we to grade on a curve, the candidate who misstates the facts in one out of every four utterances is getting an A.

As a nation I don’t know that we ever truly had a culture of honest inquiry, but it’s clear we don’t have one now and even more clear each and every one of us needs to do what we can to make this happen.

Starting with ourselves, because confirmation bias is alive and well and living in each of our minds.

– Bob”

In the archives I discovered a curious document. It records an exchange between Holmes and Dr. Watson that had nothing to do with a case. It’s a conversation between two friends regarding the value of facts, evidence, and logic when drawing conclusions about important topics.

As with most of what we know about Holmes, it was written by Dr. Watson. I reproduce it here for your edification, education, and consideration:

“My dear Holmes!” I exclaimed. I was, as was often the case, astonished at his insistence on reading volume upon volume of the most unreliable … I hesitate to call them “newspapers” given that their content covers a spectrum that begins with hyperbole and ends with out-and-out libel, but I have no other word to substitute.

I had observed this habit for years, but found I could not bear for another day watching the world’s finest intellect engaged for an hour a day on utterly worthless rubbish.

Having been asked about the reason for his fascination with such drivel in direct terms, he replied in terms no less direct: “But my dear Watson. This drivel, this rubbish, this waste of tree pulp and ink as you so amusingly describe it, is anything but worthless.”

“Please observe: Who do you and I associate and converse with during the normal course of our lives?”

As it happens, neither Holmes nor I socialize to any great extent, so the accurate answer would have been each other. Having pointed this out, I added, “When we’re investigating some matter or other, we interview witnesses and, to his frequent dismay, interact with Lestrade. Other than that there’s your brother Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson. Beyond this, when we do find ourselves at a social gathering it is hosted by the Lords and Ladies of London society.”

“Precisely!” he congratulated me. “And please tell me, when we find ourselves in substantive conversations with these worthies, how often it happens that we disagree on what we consider to be the fundamental and important truths?”

“Seldom, if ever,” I conceded. “But surely you aren’t claiming that reading these exploitative publications will expose you to important and differing perspectives, and the evidence and logic behind them.”

“Of course not, Watson. To the extent these publications offer evidence, it is distorted or fabricated, and what they call logic would cause Aristotle to rotate in his tomb with considerable velocity.”

“No,” he continued, “I read these to gain insight into how those who firmly adhere to utterly preposterous opinions and worldviews have come to do so.”

“Is Moriarty the source of it all?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “Moriarty would be far more subtle, his propositions more difficult to disprove. And in any event, my goal is to understand the psychology that prefers implausible nonsense to reliable evidence.”

“Have you reached any conclusions?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “It is that most people, most of the time, accept without dispute any statement that justifies what they wish to be true, while rejecting on even the flimsiest of pretexts any declaration that contradicts it.”

“Ah,” I said. “I’ve heard people say they ‘trust their guts.’ Are you saying that this is how people choose what they believe?”

Holmes smiled approvingly. “It’s alimentary, my dear Watson.”