Rationally Speaking is a blog maintained by Prof. Massimo Pigliucci, a philosopher at the City University of New York. The blog reflects the Enlightenment figure Marquis de Condorcet's idea of what a public intellectual (yes, we know, that's such a bad word) ought to be: someone who devotes himself to "the tracking down of prejudices in the hiding places where priests, the schools, the government, and all long-established institutions had gathered and protected them." You're welcome. (Thanks to Phil Pollack for the magisterial editing work, and to Ian Pollock for the nice logo!) Please notice that the contents of this blog can be reprinted under the standard Creative Commons license.
Next week Julia and I will be taping two episodes of the Rationally Speaking podcast, so we are inviting comments on both topics simultaneously.
To begin with, we are about to hit episode number 26, which means that we have been podcasting already for one year! Time really flies when you are having fun. Still, that got our producer, Benny Pollak, to think of the arbitrariness of anniversaries, both those that mark events of personal significance and those that have a wider societal impact. I mean, why exactly is episode 26 so important? Why not celebrate when we hit a nice round number, say 30? Or a prime number, like 29? Or the approximate square root of a prime number? Okay, okay, you get the point. Interestingly, that episode will be taped on the Perihelinox, a “holiday” Benny made up based on the day the earth is closest to the sun (around January 3rd). To help us discuss anniversaries and their history, we will chat with our guest, Prof. Timothy Alborn, a historian at the City University of New York—Lehman College (and, incidentally, my boss).
The other episode we will be taping deals with the recent controversy concerning the scientific status of anthropology. An article by Nicholas Wade in the New York Times reported that the American Anthropological Association had decided “to strip the word ‘science’ from a statement of its long-range plan.” (See also this response in the NYT, penned by Tom Boellstorff, the current editor of American Anthropologist, the journal of the AAA.) To some extent, this reflects the long standing division between physical and cultural anthropology, the first one often associated with science departments, the latter with the humanities. In this particular instance, the revised statement says that “the purposes of the association shall be to advance public understanding of humankind in all its aspects,” a wording that opens the possibility for cultural anthropologists to engage in public advocacy on behalf of cultures they are studying, like the Yanomamo of Venezuela. So, what kind of discipline is anthropology, after all? And, more broadly, should scientists cross the line from research into public advocacy? If you think the answer to that question is easy, just consider the controversies concerning both climate change and the teaching of evolution in public schools...
Recently while having dinner with a good friend, I touted that Eugenie Scott, executive director at the National Center for Science Education, was rumored to be a speaker at an upcoming conference in New York City. My friend sighed, and lamented while repeating the name “Eugenie Scott …” as his voice trailed off. The ensuing conversation made clear to me that my friend did not have a favorable view of Scott and the NCSE and that he did not think the NCSE was helping the secular cause.
This is not uncommon in my experience. The NCSE — dedicated to promoting and defending the teaching of evolution in science curricula at the local, state, and national levels — is by its very nature controversial. One obvious source of opposition to its operations is hyper-religious Americans who reject evolutionary theory (but not the modern medical benefits derived from it, naturally!). But the NCSE also receives criticism from some secularists, like my friend. They charge that the organization too often promotes the idea that science and religion are compatible — in some instances by actively supporting liberal forms of religion. These two criticisms are in no way equal in merit. Evolutionary theory is on firm ground, and those who reject the science are simply wrong. But the second camp might have a point, and that is the topic of this essay.
This debate over NCSE’s handling of science and religion heated up recently after news that the NCSE is promoting an event that explicitly endorses liberal religion that accepts (most of) the findings of science. In response, evolutionary biologist Jerry Coyne charged that the NCSE has essentially become BioLogos, the Templeton Foundation-like outfit that tries to find, and spread word of, intellectual agreement between religion and science. I believe this bit of news also bothered my friend, along with a number of bloggers. This is not the first time Coyne or others have felt put off by the NCSE. So what gives?
It seems to me that the NCSE will always be in a tough spot. If they are truly interested in successfully defending science in classrooms nationwide, they will hardly be able to take a neutral approach to religion (even if that is in their stated mission). Some secularists are bothered by the NCSE working with religious groups that accept science, and by their active outreach to religious groups. Doesn’t promoting evolutionary acceptance to religious groups essentially equal promoting the compatibility of evolution and religion? Why reach out to religion? Yet, considering the NCSE’s enormous challenge, and their science-focused mission, they both must and can build wide support. As they note on their Web site:
“Our members range from devout practitioners of several religions to atheists, with many shades of belief in between. What unites them is a conviction that science and the scientific method, and not any particular religious belief, should determine science curriculum.”
Moreover, evolution acceptance is a major problem not in the faithless community, but in the faith-based one, so it seems understandable to direct attention there.
Still, reaching out to religious groups on evolution is categorically different from promoting or exclusively supporting liberal religion. It is one thing to work — under the assumption of (a flexible) neutrality — to form coalitions with, or educate, religious groups. It is quite another to actively encourage religious belief. This is stepping outside the bounds that reasonable secularists, willing to provide some wiggle room, might feel comfortable with. There is no rationale for the NCSE to do this. In fact, one could reasonably ask: if the NCSE is going to promote liberal religion and religionists, why not also promote pro-science atheism and atheists? As P.Z. Myers wrote in his more centered approach to the issue:
“The most glaring discrepancy in NCSE's current policy of so-called alliance-building is that atheists are left out; I presume their support is taken for granted. But I will note that some ditzy conference by Biologos-types gets front-page attention from the NCSE, while Richard Dawkins can tour the country giving talks on evolution (if anyone had been paying attention, they'd know that most of his talks are about science, not atheism) and be completely ignored. It's as if the biggest, most popular promoters of science in the world do not exist, simply because they aren't liberal Christians.”
Again, a large obstacle to the acceptance of evolution does stem from certain types of religious belief, and the NCSE should concentrate on that. But at the same time, why ignore pro-science atheists? To be sure, Myers is not calling for the NCSE to become an atheist organization. In fact, no one is. The NCSE should not promote either atheism or liberal religion. Rather, Myers is noting the unevenness with which the NCSE treats religion and non-religion.
Secularists like Myers have a reasonable case:
“As I've said before, said just above, am saying again, and will no doubt have to say a hundred times more, no one is asking the NCSE to become an atheist organization, and no one is saying that the NCSE shouldn't make strategic alliances with religious organizations. I'd put it in 72 point type if I thought it would help, but I doubt that anything will.” (emphasis in the original)
Working with religious groups on defending science in the classroom, or educating religious groups, is fine. But don’t promote or support religion, and then also ignore Richard Dawkins and others just because they are atheists. As Myers notes, the NCSE should openly work with everyone who shares the organization’s science-based mission — even if he or she is a public atheist — so long as the topic is science, not religion.
But while the NCSE deserves criticism, its secular detractors sometimes go too far. There are problems with the event that sparked this recent debate, but Coyne’s claim that the NSCE has become BioLogos is unfair. BioLogos and the NCSE are completely different organizations — in general mission and in their work — and I think secularists should clearly side with one over the other. Of course, I do not agree with the NCSE on every issue, but they are not even close to being BioLogos (yet).
Many secularists think the NCSE’s stated policy of neutrality itself is a sort of pro-religious stance. Yet a portion, or perhaps even the whole, of the NCSE’s stance on science’s inability to weigh in on religious claims stems from the position that science is empirical, evidence-based hypothesis forming and testing, and thus has epistemological limits. It can’t handle certain metaphysical and supernatural questions, though it can inform critical inquiry of some claims more than others. This is not a matter of promoting the compatibility of science and religion. It’s epistemic humility. Indeed, the NCSE does not say that religious belief is therefore reasonable (it doesn’t need to take the extra step; remember, it’s an organization dedicated to science). You might question Scott’s philosophy, but it would be disingenuous to charge that she is working for religious belief because she honestly (and I believe rightly) thinks science has epistemological limits.
This brings us back to the widespread sentiment in certain quarters that the NCSE is not really helping. I think that the NCSE is helping, but it is important to remember the NCSE is fighting one small battle within the larger war for rationality, reason, and science. The NCSE’s battle is a localized one, concentrating on science education. They are definitely helping there. The other battle is a much broader one, centered on irrationality and unreason wherever it is having influence. The NCSE plays a lesser, but still crucial, role there. This does not mean the NCSE should be sheltered from criticism. Critique is essential, and the NCSE should be listening.
But let’s also not try not to confuse the different scopes of our battles, or else we will lose the entire war. And let’s certainly not think that those who fight differently are automatically on the other side. It’s not true, and we can’t afford that.
* WikiLeaks leader Julian Assange defends himself in The Australian by arguing that we shouldn’t shoot the messenger (him) but the message (the corrupt governments), while British journalist Johann Hari posits Assange has made us all safer.
* Meanwhile, the soldier accused of leaking those WikiLeaks documents is enduring some rough jail treatment, as detailed by Glenn Greenwald.
* One very interesting bit of information from those leaked cables: shows like Desperate Housewives and the Late Show with David Letterman are apparently “doing more to persuade Saudi youth to reject violent jihad than hundreds of millions of dollars of US government propaganda.”
* Philosopher Ned Block pens a critical review of neuroscientist Antonio Damasio’s new book on consciousness.
* A new study from the surgeon general further informs us about the harms of tobacco — even a single puff can have a negative impact.
* This story discusses a growing approach of abortion foes, already successful in Nebraska, to pass laws on the idea that fetuses can feel pain at 20 weeks.
* Logician Graham Priest writes about paradoxical truths on the New York Times philosophy blog. Tough subject for the general public, but he does a good job.
* And here's your Christmas special: a look at the religious beliefs of Abraham Lincoln, and a nation grappling with secession, during the Christmas of 1860.
Our two philosophically inclined robots discuss the perennial question of whether philosophy makes progress, or whether it is stuck into debating the same topics over and over. Hypatia argues that philosophy does progress, and provides some examples. However, this progress is different from that typical of science, and this difference highlights some important distinctions between the two disciplines.
Simplicio: What a nice day Hypatia!
Hypatia: Hello Simplicio, it is a fine day indeed.
S: Yes, and one that brings me to ask you a new question about philosophy, my dear friend.
H: Always glad to oblige your curiosity, Simplicio. What would you like to talk about?
S: Well, recently I have been wondering whether it can be said that philosophy makes progress. You know, science clearly does progress. Scientists discover new things, but philosophers often disagree for centuries on a particular issue, and there doesn't seem to be a way to settle the matter.
H: Yes, that is a good question indeed. I submit to you that philosophy does make progress, but in a way that is very different from science, and that in fact reflects fundamental differences between the two disciplines.
S: Really? I cannot begin to imagine what you mean, Hypatia.
H: You see, Simplicio, philosophy is not about finding out facts about the world. We have science for that, and it works very well. Philosophy is rather about critical and logical analysis of concepts, so progress is made not by discovering new things, but by making increasingly clear the way we think about things.
S: I'm not sure I understand. Could you perhaps give me an example of progress in philosophy?
H: Certainly. Take ethics, for instance, about which we have already talked in the past.
S: You mean when we discussed Sam Harris' book suggesting that science can answer moral questions?
H: Right. We did agree that ethics is not a science, but we also agreed that it can provide logical analyses of moral questions.
S: Yes, but how did ethics, as a branch of philosophy, make progress?
H: Consider one of the most common modern approaches to ethical reasoning, utilitarianism.
S: You mean the doctrine that what matters in ethical judgment are the consequences of one's action, and in particular whether they maximize happiness for the greatest number of people?
H: Right, that is the rough idea. Now, the first philosopher to propose utilitarianism as an ethical theory was Jeremy Bentham, in his book The Principles of Morals and Legislation, published in 1789.
S: Yes, but if I remember correctly, his pupil, John Stuart Mill, published a different book on utilitarianism in 1863.
H: That is very good, Simplicio! The important point is that Mill's book was a better version of utilitarianism compared to the one that Bentham had produced. Bentham had been criticized by other philosophers because of some rather simplistic aspects of utilitarianism, and Mill took those criticisms into account and produced a better version of the theory.
S: I get it! So, that one is the theory that philosophers accept today?
H: Oh no. Many other criticisms have been raised also against John Stuart Mill's version of utilitarianism, and as a result utilitarians have fine tuned their ideas even more. For instance, one of the most prominent utilitarians today is the Princeton philosopher Peter Singer.
S: Ah, yes, a major figure of the animal rights movement, right?
H: Yes, Singer wrote an influential book back in 1975 entitled Animal Liberation, which applies utilitarianism to the defense of the rights of animals. Singer's version of utilitarianism is much more sophisticated than both Bentham's and Mill's, which is an example of the fact that philosophy makes progress.
S: But will moral philosophers ever reach a final conclusions on these matters?
H: I do not think that is likely, but even science itself often does not reach final conclusions on the big questions. Scientific theories are always tentative and open to revision, and so are philosophical ideas. Truth, my dear Simplicio, simply is not something that human beings can easily achieve.
S: Are there other examples of progress in philosophy, outside of ethics?
H: Of course. In the past we have discussed philosophy of science, and we have seen that some of the original ideas, like those of the logical positivists, or of Karl Popper, were rather simplistic.
S: Right, I remember now. More recent views in philosophy of science, like David Hull's idea that science works as an evolutionary process, or the idea that science is a Bayesian mechanism, are certainly more sophisticated and probably closer to understanding how science works.
H: That is exactly right, Simplicio. And we could go on and talk about progress in philosophy of mind, for instance, or in philosophy of language, and even, perhaps, in metaphysics!
S: It sounds to me like you are somewhat skeptical of metaphysics, my friend! Actually, to a point, so am I, but perhaps we should leave that to another discussion.
December 20, for those who follow the creationism/evolution controversy, is jokingly called Kitzmas, since it was on December 20, 2005, that Judge John E. Jones III delivered his verdict in Kitzmiller v. Dover, establishing the unconstitutionality of teaching “intelligent design” in the public schools. As Massimo Pigliucci wrote in his chapter on the trial in Nonsense on Stilts (University of Chicago Press, 2010), the trial thus “culminated in one of the best examples of how science and philosophy of science can play a surprising and fundamental role in our courtrooms.” So I was particularly delighted to discover that a special issue of the philosophy journal Synthese on the creationism/evolution controversy that James H. Fetzer and I coedited was published just in time for Kitzmas 2010 – and that access to Synthese is free until December 31, 2010. It is just a coincidence — a special promotion on the part of the journal’s publisher — but to me it feels like a Kitzmas miracle.
The issue begins with my introduction, in which I briefly review the increasing prominence of philosophy in the creationism/evolution controversy. A central issue is whether creationism is, properly, science, and Robert T. Pennock, who testified at the Kitzmiller trial that “intelligent design” creationism fails to be a science, defends the philosophical basis of his view against his critics, while Sahotra Sarkar takes a different approach, arguing that insofar as “intelligent design” is not a theological view, it is, in effect, too vague to be intelligibly evaluated. Two essays offer detailed examinations of the writings of philosophers associated with the “intelligent design” movement, with Barbara Forrest — who testified devastatingly about the history of the “intelligent design movement” at the Kitzmiller trial — focusing on Francis Beckwith, and Wesley Elsberry and Jeffrey Shallit focusing on William A. Dembski.
Niall Shanks and Keith Green’s “Intelligent design in theological perspective” presents a subtle argument that, in appealing to science to defend faith, “intelligent design” is in tension with the mainstream of Christian theology, while James H. Fetzer’s “Evolution and atheism: Has Griffin reconciled science and religion?” examines the process theologian David Ray Griffin’s views on evolution in detail. Bruce H. Weber’s historically rich essay on “Design and its discontents” ponders the connections between teleology and design. And John S. Wilkins and Kelly C. Smith separately discuss the cognitive barriers to increasing the public’s understanding and acceptance of evolution. Amusingly, both are intentionally provocative in their titles: Wilkins’s asks, “Are creationists rational?” and Smith’s “Foiling the Black Knight” alludes to a memorable scene from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
These essays are not, of course, going to be the last word on philosophy and creationism. Recent work that I happen to have found particularly interesting includes Maarten Boudry, Stefaan Blancke, and Johan Braeckman’s “How not to attack intelligent design creationism” (Foundations of Science 2010; 15 [3]: 227–244), Gregory W. Dawes’s Theism and Explanation (Routledge, 2009); Robert T. Pennock and Michael Ruse’s updated edition of the anthology But Is It Science? (Prometheus Books, 2009), which I reviewed for Skeptic, Doren Recker’s “How to confuse organisms with mousetraps” (Zygon 2010; 45 [3]: 647–664), and the “Darwin and naturalism” chapter of Elliott Sober’s Did Darwin Write the Origin Backward? (Prometheus Books, 2010). But I hope that the special issue of Synthese, which I am proud to have helped organize, will be a welcome addition to any Kitzmas stocking.
Glenn Branch is deputy director of the National Center for Science Education, a non-profit organization that works to defend the teaching of evolution in the public schools.
In these bitterly partisan times, you might be tempted to declare that the Democrats and Republicans can't agree on anything. However, you'd be wrong. In November, every member of the Senate and nearly every member of the House voted in favor of banning “crush” videos: fetish videos in which scantily-clad women stomp on small mammals, like mice and rabbits, crushing them to death.
If you're thinking “?!?!” — or maybe, more articulately, “Good lord why is that even a thing” — well, you’re not alone. I think we’d all be grateful for a few jumbo-sized jugs of Brain Bleach right about now. But I’d like to attempt to set aside our visceral reactions to the crush video case for now and focus instead on the general moral question it raises: Is it acceptable to hurt animals for our pleasure?
Judging from the public outcry against the crush videos, society thinks the answer in this case is a clear “No.” Which is the same answer that society usually gives to this question. For example, in 2007 football star Michael Vick was discovered to be running a dogfighting ring, an illegal sport in which dogs are put through violent training regimens and forced to fight each other, often to the death. Vick was vilified by the papers and sentenced to two years in jail. Whatever pleasure Vick and his compatriots got out of watching the dogs fight, it didn't justify the dogs' suffering, as far as the American public was concerned.
But society's answer to the question “Is it acceptable to hurt animals for our pleasure?” isn't always “No.” Odds are that most of the people who objected to the dog fighting and crush videos are frequent consumers of meat, milk, and eggs from industrialized farms. And the life of an animal in a typical industrialized farm is notoriously punishing. Many spend their lives in cages so confining they can barely move; ammonia fumes burn their eyes; their beaks or tails are chopped off to prevent them from biting each other out of stress; and the farm's conditions make many of them so sick or weak that they die in their cages or on the way to slaughter. As a society, however, we apparently believe that the pleasure we get from eating those animals makes their suffering worth it.
Why the disparate answers? Is there a morally relevant difference between industrial farming and dogfighting, or crush videos? All three involve inflicting suffering on animals for people's pleasure, whether gustatory (in the case of industrialized farms), recreational (from dogfighting) or sexual (from crush videos). Is there any non-arbitrary moral principle that would allow the first and prohibit the latter two?
I suspect many people will object that eating animals isn’t a matter of pleasure at all, but of the need for sustenance. While that may have been true for our ancestors who survived by hunting wild animals, I don’t think it has much relevance to our current situation. First, it's questionable whether we actually do need to eat animal products in order to be healthy; the American Dietetic Association has given the thumbs up to vegetarian and even vegan diets. But even if you believe that some amount of animal product consumption is medically necessary, we could still buy from farms that raise their livestock much more humanely. It would cost more, but we could always compensate by cutting back on other luxuries, or simply by eating less meat. By any reasonable estimate, Americans could cut their meat consumption drastically with no ill effects on their health (and likely with many positive effects). Buying the sheer amount of meat that Americans do, at the low prices made possible by industrialized farms, is a luxury that can’t be defended with a “need for sustenance” argument. It’s about pleasure — the pleasure of eating more meat than strictly necessary for health, and the pleasure of saving money that can then be spent on other things we enjoy.
As far as I can tell, there are several reasons why people regard consumers of industrial farming differently than consumers of crush videos and dogfighting. The first has to do with the types of animals involved: pigs, cows, and chickens simply aren't as cute as dogs, bunnies, and kittens. I don't know how many people would explicitly cite that as the reason they're willing to inflict suffering on the former and not the latter, but it seems to play a role, even if people won't admit as much. People who have no qualms about a pig spending its life in a small, dark crate would nevertheless be outraged if a dog were treated in the same way.
Cuteness is a pretty silly criterion by which to assign moral status, though. It's not as if unappealing animals are less intelligent or less sensitive to pain. Pigs may not make us want to pet and cuddle them and dress them in hand-knit sweaters, but they're just as intelligent as dogs, and we have no reason to believe they suffer any less than dogs would if kept in the same conditions. And if you have any trouble seeing the absurdity of basing moral judgments on cuteness, it helps to try out the principle in other contexts. (Is it worse to abuse a cute child than an ugly one?)
But I think the biggest reason that different examples of hurting animals for pleasure elicit different reactions from people is not about the types of animals involved, but about the types of pleasure. Frankly, the desires of crush video enthusiasts make most of us want to retch. I suspect that even if no actual animals were being harmed to make the crush videos, most people would still find the idea of someone getting off on them revolting. But that alone can't be sufficient reason to proscribe them — if you're going to try to make a moral argument at all, it has to go farther than “Ick!” You have to be able to point to some objective feature of the act and explain why that makes it immoral, rather than simply citing your own visceral reaction as an argument. (Of course, in practice, “Ick!” often is at the core of people's moral condemnations. For example, I've talked to people who claimed certain acts of sodomy were immoral, and when pressed, their reason was simply “Well, it's gross!” But they can't legitimately claim to be making an argument; all they're really doing is emoting.)
One objective difference people might cite is the fact that a desire to eat meat is “natural” while a desire to watch kittens being crushed is not. Which is true, in the sense that our species did evolve to eat meat while a fetish for crushing kittens is an aberration. But using naturalness as a criterion for moral rightness is a dubious move. First, it seems rather arbitrary, from a logical perspective, which is why it's often referred to as the naturalistic fallacy. And second, it would justify some pretty unsavory “natural” urges, like rape and tribalism, while prohibiting other “unnatural” urges, like the desire to wear clothing or to refrain from having children.
The closest thing that I can find to a morally relevant distinction between industrial farming, dogfighting, and crush videos is this: While it’s true that all three acts cause animal suffering in order to give people pleasure, the nature of that tradeoff differs. The consumers of crush videos and dogfighting are taking pleasure in the suffering itself, whereas the consumers of industrially-farmed meat are taking pleasure in the meat that was produced by the suffering. From a purely harm-based perspective, the moral calculus is the same: the animal suffers so that you can experience pleasure. But the degree of directness of that tradeoff makes a difference in how we perceive your character. Someone whose motive is “I enjoy seeing another creature suffer” seems more evil than someone whose motive is “I want a tasty meal,” even if both people cause the same amount of suffering.
And I can certainly understand why people would want to call a crush video enthusiast more “evil” than a person who buys meat from industrial farms, because of the difference in their motivations. That's a reasonable way to define evilness. But in that case we're left with the fact that a person's evilness may be totally unrelated to the amount of harm she causes; and that, in fact, some of the greatest harm may be caused by people whose motivations seem unobjectionable to us. Apathy, denial, conformity; none of these inspire the same outrage as sadism, but they've caused some pretty horrible outcomes. And if you believe that it's wrong to make animals suffer for our pleasure, but you reserve your moral condemnation only for cases that viscerally upset you, like dogfighting or crush videos, then you're falling prey to the trap that Isaac Asimov famously warned us against: “Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right.”
* Google launches its e-book store to compete with Amazon, Apple, and Barnes & Noble. So far, I’m not impressed, but four players is better than three...
In a recent essay here, our good friend Massimo wrote that:
“… plagiarism and cheating happen for a variety of reasons, one of which is the existence of people like Mr. [Ed] Dante and his company, who set up a business that is clearly unethical and should be illegal.”
The argument was that we as a society should not just admonish ethically but, through law, punish a man (Ed Dante, a pseudonym) who tries to, or does, sell papers to students. But why?
Now, it seems obvious to me that our ethical convictions (think: moral and ethical beliefs, values, and principles) do influence the law. These convictions — about right and wrong, good and bad, justice, virtue, happiness, and human flourishing — concern the sort of society we would like to see realized. Since laws help to secure a certain model of society, ethics will naturally inform, if not determine, the sort of laws we want. There is nothing particularly strange about this. The challenge is to get it right. Yet it also seems obvious that not everything that is unethical should be unlawful (and, of course, not everything that is unlawful is really unethical). So what makes Massimo’s case for plagiarism being both unethical and worth making illegal?
To weigh that question, we need to consider a few different cases where ethics and law influence each other in varying degrees. We regard the killing of an innocent person as unethical, and accordingly murder is against the law. Abortion opponents find abortion to be unethical, and as such, push to ban the procedure in law. On the other hand, it is generally considered unethical to have sex, or carry on a relationship with another man or woman while being in a committed monogamous relationship with your spouse, girlfriend or boyfriend. Yet, rarely do people argue that it should be unlawful as well (it used to be that way, though!). And vegans and vegetarians regard eating meat as unethical, but only a minority argue that we ought to ban eating meat.
What makes the difference in these cases? I think the answer rests mainly in two notions. The first is pragmatism: is it practical to encode a given ethical conviction into law? That is, can we actually pass this law and then enforce it? The second is the potential for real harm. How much harm has this caused or might cause? As we will see, however, harm alone — regardless of practical considerations — can be cause for action.
Let us return to the cases above, and then Massimo’s argument. Murder: it is practical to both have and enforce laws against murder, and either way, murder surely causes great harm to society. Abortion: it is rather unpractical to think we can ban abortion in the U.S. (though restrictions are another matter). But that’s less important, considering that for opponents, the perceived harm caused is so great that they must try to do what they can. Cheating: I don’t see how we could really pass and effectively enforce, bans against cheating on your boyfriend or girlfriend. And while unethical, the act causes limited harm to a select few people. So, no laws. Vegans, vegetarians and meat: again, it seems unrealistic to think we could ban meat taking into account its widespread consumption, or that the government could really enforce this. Most vegans and vegetarians believe we would be better off focusing on process (making meat production more humane) than on the act itself (banning meat eating). Furthermore, the harm caused — while worthy of action — probably pales in comparison to the harm caused in the human world daily. The point here is that not everything is equally unethical in the sense of harm. Some unethical beliefs and/or actions cause more harm, some less, and this matters insofar as we turn our ethics into law.
Now we return to Massimo’s example. I see no reason we could not feasibly outlaw selling papers for the specific purpose of plagiarism, nor why the law could not be enforced. Perhaps more importantly, as we have seen, plagiarism can cause real societal harm, as Massimo outlines in great detail. If people easily fake their way to college degrees, they would succeed when they should not, thus cheating the system; college degrees would become much less trustworthy; massive amounts of money and human effort would be wasted; and more.
In summary, my argument is that the transition from unethical to unlawful is based both on the practical aspects of the situation, and on the potential harm being caused. But I should note that these two notions could be trumped by other ethical convictions. Consider some libertarians, or even Democrats, who deem abortion unethical, but do not want to see abortions banned by law, because they value the principle of freedom (or liberty) of individual action. However, I think considering freedom above potential murder here should make us wonder in what sense such a person really opposes abortion. Regardless, these people are not denying the general link between ethics and law, nor are they rejecting considerations of practicality and harm (they’d likely still try to limit abortions through non law-regulated avenues, such as “counsel for life”). It’s just that when it comes to translating ethics into law, we value a range of principles that make for a more nuanced and complex transition.
It’s happening again! Episode 25 of the Rationally Speaking podcast will be taped soon, and as it is becoming tradition for us every five episodes, this will be an open ended Q&A with the hosts. So, if you have any question pertinent to the RS universe of topics, from science to philosophy and everything in between, fire away in the comments section of this post (or leave a voice comment at 212-529-3393), and we’ll try to get to as many as possible during the show.
Oh, and don’t forget that on January 29 New York City Skeptics will host a live taping (not an oxymoron!) of the podcast, your chance to see Julia and I in action and to participate to the show. We will tape the equivalent of two episodes, the first one featuring a general discussion of topics covered by my recent book, Nonsense on Stilts, the second one entirely devoted to the Q&A. The event will take place at the Jefferson Market Library, at 425 Avenue of the Americas (btw 9th & 10th St.) in New York City.
A recurrent theme of discussion on this blog is the difference between science and philosophy, or rather between science and everything else. The same subject was the topic of a highly enjoyable discussion in one of my classes (appropriately, on the philosophy of pseudoscience) at CUNY’s Graduate Center this week (even Julia joined in as a guest!), and it has popped up again in the thread to my most recent 5-minute Philosopher video. And of course the title of this entry is a reference to Jerry Coyne’s occasional remark that there is no substantial difference between plumbing and science because plumbers test hypotheses based on empirical evidence.
Except, of course, that plumbing is not science, and here is why. First off, let’s stipulate two things: on the one hand, there are no sharp demarcation lines dividing science from pseudoscience and non-science — but hopefully we’ll agree that no sharp demarcation does not mean that there are no significant differences. On the other hand, I don’t actually believe that anyone takes seriously the proposition that all reason-based knowledge is “scientific.” If that were the case, then pretty much everything we do every day should count as science — from picking a movie based on a review by a critic we usually like (induction!) to deciding to cross the street when the pedestrian light is green (hypothesis testing!). If the concept of science is that expansive, than it is also pretty close to meaningless.
Why is biology a science, and plumbing is not? Let’s start with what they have in common: both activities assume certain background “theories” within which they work: let’s say the theory of evolution for biology, the physics, engineering and construction practices of hydraulics in the case of plumbing. In both cases, the “practitioners” use those general frameworks to solve specific puzzles: a biologist may be interested in the adaptive significance and genetic basis of a particular phenotype, the plumber may need to fix your toilet. Finally, the way both practitioners proceed to solve whatever puzzle they need to solve is to use empirical evidence and confront it with their expert knowledge. (Of course a major difference between the two is that plumbers are often paid more than biologists, by the hour.)
As I mentioned earlier, however, this analysis does not get us very far. If you substitute almost any other human activity — including crossing the street on your way to the grocery store — for “plumbing” above, the essence of the analogy remains intact. Which should be a warning that there is something amiss here (again, unless you are willing to bite the bullet and go for an extremely expansive definition of science — and even so, there’s more to come).
The thread linking plumbing and science is that in both cases we use reason and evidence. But reason and evidence are the ways human beings have gotten along in this world since the beginning of Homo sapiens (and probably earlier), and it seems strange to say that our ancestors in the Pleistocene were doing “science.” Moreover, there are ways of using reason that do not rely on empirical evidence, as in the cases of logic and math. And there are ways of using reason where evidence does play a role, but not the role that it plays in science, as in the case of philosophy. I will return to these latter distinctions at the end of this post.
What separates science from other human activities is, I suggest, its extremely more refined methods, its sociological structure, and its historical context. Let’s start with the point about the method. If plumbing really was a “science” in any interesting sense then it would be baffling that we force wannabe scientists to go through years of college, years of graduate school, and years of postdoc, to do something essentially analogous to fixing your bathroom. Ah, you might object, but the amount of technical knowledge necessary to become a biologist is much higher than that necessary to become a plumber. True, but if you think that all that young scientists learn, especially in graduate school and during their postdoc is more facts, you have never been in a real science lab.
I think of science labs as akin to Renaissance workshops, where the novices learn from the masters. Much of that knowledge is about the methods by which things get done, not just about a pile of facts to memorize. Graduate students learn the art (yes, I’m using the term on purpose — did you know that the word “scientist” was coined in 1834 by William Whewell, a philosopher, in analogy to “artist”?) of setting up controlled experiments, analyzing massive amounts of data using sophisticated statistical techniques, and writing cogent papers to present their results to the world. None of this is done by plumbers, and for good reasons.
Second, science is a particular type of social activity, certainly as conceived and practiced today. It has a complex — and necessary — structure of peer review, edited journals, funding agencies, academic positions, laboratories, and so on. Of course science has not always been practiced this way (see my next point about history), but a good argument can be made that it has evolved into a mature discipline precisely when these sort of social structures came to be implemented. Indeed, philosopher Helen Longino has made a very good case that modern science is a quintessential example of social knowledge. If you were stranded on a deserted island, you could discover things by means of conjectures and refutations — to use Popper’s famous phrase — but you wouldn’t be doing “science” because, among other things, there would be no peer group to check on your potentially crazy ideas about the nature of the universe (remember that neurobiological research shows the human brain being incredibly good at rationalizing, more than at rational thinking).
Third, here as elsewhere, there is much we can learn from history. The history of science is a fascinating illustration of how a practice that initially truly was barely distinguishable from plumbing eventually became a major branch of philosophy (natural philosophy), and then flourished spectacularly as an independent type of inquiry beginning in the 16th and 17th centuries (Galileo and Newton), culminating in the 19th and 20th centuries (modern physics, biology after Darwin) and beyond. The fact that it was a long process marked by many steps is congruent with one of the points I stipulated at the onset: there is no sharp line demarcating science from other activities. But the fact that we think of modern science as product of that historical process, and as distinct from its progenitors and allied fields, means that it is indeed its own thing, and this thing called science ought to be respected for what it is, neither less (as so many Americans have a tendency to do — see creationism, vaccine denialism, and the skepticism about global warming) nor more (as some of my colleagues wish to do by claiming an all-encompassing sphere of influence for their discipline).
I would like to conclude this sketch with two more notes: one about why this matters (Julia always asks me this question, so it has now been drilled into my brain), and the other with a proposal for an alternative way to look at the relationship between science and other disciplines that deal with reason and evidence.
Why does it matter? Well, as a philosopher and scientist, I have an intrinsic interest in the nature of knowledge, and I really don’t think I need any other reason to justify this sort of project. Nonetheless, there are other, more practical, reasons to pursue it. Science is a multi-billion dollar industry, which means that it matters very much who can claim to be doing “science.” Witness the fact that most supporters of pseudoscience, from creationism to parapsychology, wish to convince us that they are doing science. Moreover, science has a large impact on society, which implies a huge responsibility for scientists to claim no more or less than what they can reasonably claim. The credibility of the entire enterprise is at stake whenever a scientist says things on behalf of science that are not in fact backed up by scientific (in the narrow sense) knowledge.
Finally, there is of course a sense in which science and philosophy, and indeed math and logic, are connected. This sense, ironically, goes back to that very same William Whewell who coined the term scientist. He got it from the Latin word scientia, which means knowledge in the broadest sense. As my diagram below indicates, I think it is reasonable to see the totality of third-person knowledge (as opposed to first-person, phenomenological knowledge) along a rough continuum from completely or almost completely abstract (logic and math — by saying “almost completely” I am allowing for so-called experimental mathematics) at one end, to necessarily coupled to empirical evidence (science), passing via an intermediate field where empirical evidence is relevant but most of the work is done via analysis and logic (philosophy).
This is the sense in which I think scientia, but not science sensu stricto, can reject the supernatural (Coyne’s and Dawkins’ project), or arrive at non arbitrary moral judgments (Harris’ project). It is also why my personal opinion is that academic philosophy departments (where logic is taught, incidentally) should be housed together with the sciences and math, as they have much more in common with them than with, say, history or literature. Regardless, it is in this sense — the continuity and yet individuality of these disciplines within the broader category of scientia — that I argue that plumbing ain’t science, as honorable and necessary as that trade is to our everyday lives.
* Another WikiLeaks release sheds light on U.S. diplomatic efforts worldwide. What do you think: are the leaks justifiable? Are they doing more good than bad, or vice versa? Or should the information come out regardless of the consequences?
* Another brilliant piece from The Onion: “Courageous Man Refuses to Believe He Has Cancer.” Perhaps the best line: “I didn’t take even a single vitamin. Not even medicine, because, you know, medicine is what sick people take.”
* An Indianapolis father claims his visitation rights with his children were cut because he is an agnostic. This is clearly wrong, but something just seems missing here.
* A wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills dropped a game-winning touchdown pass in the end zone against the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Steelers went on to win the game. The receiver’s reaction: God, why did you do this to me?
* Sam Harris, Steven Pinker, Peter Singer, Patricia Churchland, Lawrence Krauss, and Simon Blackburn sit down with Roger Bingham for a conversation about science and morality. It is absolutely worth your time (for the record, I find myself siding with Blackburn and Singer).
* Slate.com’s Alison Gopnik reviews neuroscientist Antonio Damasio’s new book, “Self Comes to Mind: Constructing the Conscious Mind.”
* Former British Prime Minister Tony Blair debated Christopher Hitchens on whether religion is a force for good. Video is here; a transcript is here.
* I’ll be discussing the relationship between science and religion at SkeptiCamp NYC 2010 this Saturday. I’ll post presentation materials at some point.
