Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts

More on Meaning

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D.A. Ridgely had this response to my comment left to Kuznicki's post about the futility of talking about meaning in objective terms, the subject of the previous post. Here was my response:

The quote from Schumpeter captures very well my concern over value, and to some extent, meaning. I do not quite know what to make of the idea of standing on one’s convictions while doubting their validity or, worse, committing them to relativity. This is an aspect of lawyering I find particularly repulsive. And it suggests how philosophy is at once the most human and the least human endeavor: the intense scrutiny demanded by philosophy results in precious few undeniable truths; and yet the existential demands of life require impulsive commitments to innumerable simple, ready-at-hand truths.

The fascinating thing about meaning is not the answer we happen to furnish to the ultimate question, but the fact that we ask it, that we acknowledge it as “the ultimate question” of philosophy and of humanity. That very phenomenon suggests, at the least, some commonality, some universality about our nature, even when we provide vastly different personal responses to the question.

I am a theist—a non-denominational Christian. (I haven’t attended church in years, though, one of the perks of generic Christianity.) To preempt the question, yes, I do find meaning in the view of the afterlife that Christianity provides. Some, anyway. Religious doctrine about afterlife is not meant to satisfy one’s longing for meaning. I am somewhat of an existentialist: life is for the living. Meaning comes from all aspects of our experience. I think this was along the lines of Jason Kuznicki’s original point.

But where I became troubled was Jason’s rejection of the human tendency—universal, in my view—to also seek meaning by looking beyond the end of one’s own life. The suggestion that no one should need to contemplate humanity as a whole, or notions of eternity, or other implications outside the scope and control of one’s own life, strikes me as somewhat aloof. Disciplined existentialists or nihilists might be able to train themselves to ignore this part of their mind. This might be the case, at least definitionally (in practice, I tend to believe that we all have bouts, at some frequency, in which we ponder the immortality of our works and acts). Or maybe some folks truly never ever think with any intrigue about what lies outside themselves. (I would find this very hard to believe.)

But the rest of humanity needs that focal point. It is one part—granted, not the whole—of the mental activity that lends overall meaning to an individual’s life.


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Meaning, History, and Purpose

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Jason Kuznicki rails against "conservatives" who quest for meaningful societal accomplishment, and suggests we instead just try to forget about genetic posterity or historically relevant accomplishments, and try to just end our lives with an "exclamation point."

It’s never been quite clear to me how one can engage in such impassioned bouts that sound so, well, nihilistic. People who believe that life ends with a period (or exclamation point or whatever) don’t understand those who believe it ends with an ellipsis, and vice versa. But these kinds of speeches always leave me leaning in expecting to find out how the nihilist plans to get along without that sense of “eternal purpose” that most of the rest of us find so important. (I’m sure “nihilist” is probably inaccurate, but that’s just the point–the impulse to define oneself as “other” seems make one forget to explain exactly what kind of other.)

One of course has the right to take his ball and go home. But do go home, is my point. Don’t say there’s no meaning to anything and then carry on as if there is. At the least, propose some alternative rules for what kind of “meaning” we can possibly achieve. For my part, I often find myself in a mood where philosophy seems to have about as much meaning as a crossword puzzle. But no inspiration to do any meaningful philosophy is going to strike me with that attitude.


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The Limits of Political Philosophy in an Existential World

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The other day, a co-worker and I were discussing "memory movies"--Memento, Total Recall, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Matrix. Movies that play on the mind/matter dichotomy, that question whether there is a world outside the mind. It had been a while since I watched Memento, so I put in the DVD over the weekend. The plot of the movie is hard to recall because the whole story moves backwards, showing one five-minute scene, and then the five-minutes that happened before that, and so on. It produces a destabilizing effect that helps the viewer empathize with the protagonist, a man with a condition that prevents him from forming any short term memories, but who nonetheless plods ahead, scribbling notes and "facts" for himself, in his quest to find his wife's murder.

The movie gives a thoroughly existential account of human nature. Stripped of the comfort of our stabilizing memories, life simply moves by us, objects in the world impress upon our senses for a short while, and we occupy ourselves always with some present task, but never with any security that it will produce a meaningful consequence. Memory provides a means to anchor the otherwise meaningless torrent of experiential data by giving us the ability to engage in puzzles that require the accumulation and manipulation of information acquired over long periods of time. In this way, an otherwise meaningless present task can have meaning in its place in the larger puzzle. But mustn't we still ask, what is the point of the larger puzzle? Perhaps we simply must learn to stop asking questions of purpose; we make and solve puzzles, and that is all.

Memento also asks, as The Matrix does, how do we come to know anything that is outside the mind? And how can we communicate anything that is out there? How would we ever know that others might believe the same things that we do? We are full of biases, some universal among humans, but perhaps all slightly different. Reason is our only conduit, but it cannot bear the strain: words already truncate their writers' ideas, which thus may never be truly made known to others; and the ideas' full context can never be expressed, whether due to the writers' inability to account for it, or the listeners' attention span. Perhaps, then, we are foolish to believe that we can live in big societies held together by the slim cord of reason. We instead must rely on the mere coincidence of our agreement on things simply because they resonate in the right brain, not because they are approved by the left.


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Why Do Atheists Confuse God with Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Slimy Custard Man?

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Tim Sandefur links to this story, in which Lydia McGrew explains "Why I don't teach my kids that Santa Claus is real." As Sandefur synopsizes, it's because "when kids realize there is no Santa Claus they might also start wondering about God." He complains that "McGrew gives no principled reason for believing in the existence of one but not the other; no explanation of why the arguments that apply to one would not also apply to the other--nothing but a bare assertion that God is 'different. He's real.'"

I am always befuddled that otherwise hyper-intelligent folks fail to grasp that God is a fundamentally different kind of being than Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or aliens studying Hegel on Mars. When you talk about a claim, such as the existence of God, which, when rejected, undermines the possibility of making intelligible all other claims, that’s fundamentally different than rejecting the existence of the Stay-Puft marshmallow man. As Greg Bahnsen once put it, if I reject the idea that there are so many pounds of Cocoa Puffs in the world, that claim doesn’t have an effect on many other things. But when I reject the transcendental basis for causation, induction, and an objective morality, that's extraordinary.


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Beneath What Is Seen Is That Which Is Unseen

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Tim Sandefur was not happy with me when, in May 2007, the Chapman Law Review, of which I was editor-in-chief at the time, published an article by Steven W. Trask entitled Evolution, Science, and Ideology: Why the Establishment Clause Requires Neutrality in Science Classes. So upset was Sandefur that he not only wrote a scathing attack on it at Positive Liberty (in which he admonished me and several other named individuals to feel “deeply ashamed” of ourselves for our association with the work), but even submitted a rebuttal to the Chapman Law Review, which was published in its next issue. 11 Chap. L. Rev 129, 135 (2008).

Francis Beckwith has now joined the fray by submitting his own letter to the editors of the Chapman Law Review, which letter was recently published in the Fall 2008 issue. Sandefur’s blog response promptly followed.

In this particular debate, Sandefur continues to fail to come toe to toe with the nature of the problem. That is to say, while Sandefur trumpets the utility of science, he ignores the metaphysical objections at issue, most famously expressed by David Hume when he demonstrated that science’s most essential tools—induction and causation—could not be proven by empirical observation. Metaphysics thus underlies all science, and is precedent thereto. Accordingly, any honest practitioner of science must necessarily admit to certain metaphysical precommitments.

As an example of the superficiality of Sandefur’s arguments, in his response to Trask’s article referenced above, Sandefur cites an anecdote by pop-atheist Richard Dawkins that "there are no postmodernists at 30,000 feet." Again, usefulness is not the same thing as knowledge. The question is not how we test whether things are useful, but how we can justify our claims to knowledge in them. I explained this further in a response to a post by Ed Brayton who also joined in blasting Trask’s article, also without coming toe to toe with the metaphysical crux of the problem.

I have no dog in the fight between Sandefur and Beckwith, or between Sandefur and Trask. Indeed, I am interested less (or not at all) with advancing Intelligent Design theory than I am with the fact that so many folks, even highly intelligent ones like Sandefur, appear entirely unable to grasp the limits of science. But Sandefur’s excessive use of strawmen and misdirection in these discussions has been troubling. Sandefur says that anyone who does not subscribe to science qua epistemology (as Sandefur states, “[s]cience is certainly an epistemology”) “[t]hey want equal time for unscientific appeals to supernaturalism.” I don’t know who is talking about “equal time.” As I suggested in a previous post, the competing metaphysical views underlying natural selection theory ought to be presented “in a confined discussion about metaphysics, or, if that makes the scienceniks too nervous, forget the whole thing.” But I don’t hear anyone advocating the teaching of miracles or otherwise subverting the scientific method. If there are, I will gladly join in the arguments against them. As to “unscientific appeals,” science itself is “unscientific,” in that its parameters are defined by metaphysics, not observable demonstration.

Sandefur also states that “they want their acceptance of magic to receive the same respect that rigorous scientific discourse receives.” Again, I don’t know who wants this. Scientific truth is different than metaphysical truth. Once we accept scientific principles, the truths that are derived by that process systematically follow. But the acceptance of “science” in the first place is not and cannot be justified by scientific method. Science is antecedent to metaphysics. The objections are not to the truths that are yielded by scientific process, but to the suggestion that there is nothing, but nothing, that falls outside the scrutiny of science, all the while subscribing to unstated and invisible metaphysical precommitments. Sandefur’s use of the word “magic” is obviously pejorative and designed to dissuade objectors lest they appear foolish and ignorant.

Intelligent Design (at least in the limited sense in which I would support it at all) deals with the systematic limitations of science. It is a metaphysics that purports to address the necessary network of precommitments needed to engage in scientific inquiry. To attack such a metaphysics on the erroneous assumption that it intrudes on science’s territory is not to think too little of the metaphysics, but to think too much of science.

Objectivists such as George Smith have attempted to explain away science’s metaphysical gaps by suggesting that the job is done by self-verifying truths, such as the law of identity. As Rand and her followers like to express it, “A is A.” But this charitably terse expression makes it quite easy to identify where the unjustified and arbitrary leap occurs: the word “is.” At the risk of sounding like Bill Clinton, let’s ask what is meant by that word. If A is A, then the present A is identical to the present A. But that cannot be all that is meant, else the expression would be quite useless. What is also meant is that A has always been A, and that A will always continue to be A. That is, the simple statement makes profound assumptions about the reliability of memory of the past, the predictability of the future, and the orderly perpetuation of the present state of affairs throughout time. Is all of that self-authenticating? Certainly we need to believe all of that to do science. But is something true simply because it is convenient?

The fact is, science cannot account for the metaphysical ideas that justify and sustain it, as well as those contained in natural selection, i.e., the idea that we were directed not by God but instead by nothing. When scienceists insist that they and they alone should be permitted to fill in the gaps of this metaphysical construct with the ideas that they deem appropriate, they run smack into the very problem they started with: the positing of “truth” by arbitrary fiat. And when a critical mass of such folks, particularly when organized around a set of metaphysical principles handed down by a leader given special reverence (viz., Ayn Rand), get together in an effort to proselytize their views, there is a word for that: religion.

The Secular Right contributor going by the pseudonym “David Hume” suggests that the fact that science has metaphysical underpinnings is “true but trivial.” I cannot believe that he truly thinks that. For the non-philosopher, such a statement may be true—talk among pointy-headed intellectuals usually yields no obvious benefit to things that matter to everyday life. But metaphysical truth—including things like rights and law and political theory—is profoundly important to human flourishing. To suggest that the only kind of truth worth knowing is the kind that can be used to build a better coffee maker is incredibly offensive to those who genuinely care about the human pursuit of knowledge.

Does any of this mean that science itself is a religion? No. Not anymore than language is a religion. But like language, science requires its practitioners to bring a metaphysics to the table. That is because science does not provide its own justification for concepts necessary to make it work, like induction, causation, and order.

The pursuit of truth and knowledge is thwarted, not advanced, by lobotomizing entire areas of thought. Despite Tim Sandefur’s call, no one should feel ashamed for refusing to disavow the possibility of truth that casts no shadow.

Update: Jason Kuznicki has this post at Positive Liberty that offers an example of how closely metaphysical questions relating to epistemology, theology, teleology, and ethics are bound up with Darwinian thought.


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Richard Dawkins On Free Will

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I posted this a couple years ago on one of my past blogs. I always find the topic worth revisiting.

The following is a transcript of a question posed to and answered by preeminent scientist Richard Dawkins about determinism. (I cannot now seem to find the original source -- upon a Google search, the only hit returned is a Czech site that appears no more authoritative than my copy-paste job below.) It is a delicious conundrum, and one that, in my experience, is quite impolite to bring up in friendly conversation. Quite like religion and politics. In fact this was brought up in the context of a discussion on religion, so the door of impropriety had already been flung wide open.

Richard Dawkins at Politics and Prose .. The God Delusion
Question and Answer


Questioner: Dr. Dawkins thank you for your comments. The thing I have appreciated most about your comments is your consistency in the things I've seen you written. One of the areas that I wanted to ask you about and the places where I think there is an inconsistency and I hoped you would clarify it is that in what I've read you seem to take a position of a strong determinist who says that what we see around us is the product of physical laws playing themselves out but on the other hand it would seem that you would do things like taking credit for writing this book and things like that. But it would seem, and this isn't to be funny, that the consistent position would be that necessarily the authoring of this book from the initial condition of the big bang it was set that this would be the product of what we see today. I would take it that that would be the consistent position but I wanted to know what you thought about that.

Dawkins: The philosophical question of determinism is a very difficult question. It's not one I discuss in this book, indeed in any other book that I've ever talked about. Now an extreme determinist, as the questioner says, might say that everything we do, everything we think, everything that we write, has been determined from the beginning of time in which case the very idea of taking credit for anything doesn't seem to make any sense. Now I don't actually know what I actually think about that, I haven't taken up a position about that, it's not part of my remit to talk about the philosophical issue of determinism. What I do know is that what it feels like to me, and I think to all of us, we don't feel determined. We feel like blaming people for what they do or giving people the credit for what they do. We feel like admiring people for what they do. None of us ever actually as a matter of fact says, "Oh well he couldn't help doing it, he was determined by his molecules." Maybe we should.. I sometimes.. Um.. You probably remember many of you would have seen Fawlty Towers. The episode where Basil where his car won't start and he gives it fair warning, counts up to three, and then gets out of the car and picks up a tree branch and thrashes it within an edge of his life. Maybe that's what we all ought to... Maybe the way we laugh at Basil Fawlty, we ought to laugh in the same way at people who blame humans. I mean when we punish people for doing the most horrible murders, maybe the attitude we should take is "Oh they were just determined by their molecules." It's stupid to punish them. What we should do is say "This unit has a faulty motherboard which needs to be replaced." I can't bring myself to do that. I actually do respond in an emotional way and I blame people, I give people credit, or I might be more charitable and say this individual who has committed murders or child abuse of whatever it is was really abused in his own childhood. And so again I might take a ..

Questioner: But do you personally see that as an inconsistency in your views?

Dawkins: I sort of do. Yes. But it is an inconsistency that we sort of have to live with otherwise life would be intolerable.
But it has nothing to do with my views on religion it is an entirely separate issue.

Questioner: Thank you.


I always felt it was a surprisingly honest answer -- Dawkins has faith in free-will. Now, if only we might disabuse him by recounting all the terrible deeds that free-will is responsible for, we can cure him of his Volition Delusion.


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Humanity Without Religion Ceases To Be Humanity

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John Derbyshire suggests that the question "Can humanity survive over the long term without religion?" can be answered in the same way as the question "Can humanity survive over the long term without music?" I disagree. Religion is not "just a feature of the general human personality." On the list of qualities that make up our humanity, I would put religion closer to language. Thus, imagine that all known languages were obliterated. Humans, so long as they remain such, will forge ahead with some new way of communicating, i.e., through language. Similarly, even were we to reject every known systematic method of organizing metaphysical premises in order to make sense of the observable world (i.e., religion), we will forge some new one. This is because, of course, the pursuit of knowing things is essential to being human. That is to say, without music, we might say we would be "less" human. But without language or a method of knowing stuff, it is fair to say we would cease to be human at all. Featherless bipeds, more like.

At its root, religion is really little different from metaphysics. And humans need metaphysics for important things like, well, knowledge and morality and justice and so forth. Every religion takes on a culture of its own, and adopts a fair number of silly and nasty habits. These idiosyncrasies really seem to get atheists and secular humanists and "brights" and what-have-yous all bustling with agitation. But to deny metaphysical truth, which is the kernel of religion, is to yank out the whole foundation of human knowledge.

[Some further discussion on this point at Secular Right.]


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Science and the God-Shaped Void

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A friend and I were talking recently about the uneasy role our respective religions play in our secular American lives. Religious folks watch crude and profane movies and laugh along with everyone else. Atheism is just different strokes for different folks—no big deal, really, they just opted not to tick the God box. Is there any danger to religious Americans to make room in the public sphere for atheistic perspectives and values? Perhaps we can just do what we’ve done with commercialized Christmas: leave it be, just have to remember that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” Perhaps a more secular culture is ok, so long as we keep in mind what it really means to hold to a religious worldview.

Easier said than done. We are not in a worldview-neutral culture. There is currently not a lot of reason to think about worldviews because, when it comes to much of the important stuff, we happen to believe the same things: individual liberty; human dignity; love of country; etc. But as we are starting to see, in the debates on gay marriage and stem cells, for example, there is increasing pressure to abandon vestiges of our religious worldviews unless they are supported by the atheistic worldview. That is, the morality that comes from old books and stodgy preachers no longer passes muster. Insert some bar graphs and control group data and then we’ll talk. Until then, no one wants to hear about your peccadilloes.

The problem with that is, properly speaking, there is no such thing as an “atheistic worldview.” Instead, we have atheist worldviews, as many, in fact, as there are atheists. This is because science, which serves as atheists’ de facto “god,” is value neutral. It governs only process, not ends. If you want to talk about ends, about truth, about first principles, we’re talking about metaphysics, the branch of study antecedent to science on the human knowledge tree.

To even the religious among us these days, science is the gold standard of truth. Labcoats are preferred to armchairs. No one wants to hear about metaphysics—the physics part sounds good, but this “meta” must mean less good, no?—like “semi” or “pseudo”? To the contrary, the prefix means “more comprehensive; transcending,” as in, physics presupposes metaphysics. Without metaphysics, there can be no physics. Metaphysics gives us the tools we need to do science. Scientific method? Metaphysics. Induction? Metaphysics. Causation? Metaphysics. Unified theory of everything? You guessed it, metaphysics. Natural selection is a scientific theory, but the theory is so ingenious that it entices otherwise sober minded scientists to go further. It has answered so many questions and unlocked so many doors that we forget that it all comes from the same field of study that provides the foundation for both science and theology: metaphysics.

That is what the folks at the Discovery Institute have their alarm bells ringing about. Whatever you think about intelligent design (and I don’t think a whole lot of it), they are right to be bothered that science now thinks it can start injecting non-scientific fields, such as teleology, into classrooms. The notion that teachers could indoctrinate students about a “purposeless” universe is just as objectionable as if they were teaching it did have a purpose. They are two sides of the same coin, with intelligent design proponents on one side, and natural selection proponents on the other. The problem is the coin: either way, preference is given to one side or the other in a science classroom when science proper has nothing to say about it. Present both sides in a confined discussion about metaphysics, or, if that makes the scienceniks too nervous, forget the whole thing.

God should not be injected into science classrooms, but neither should science teachers extend the proper borders of their field. Science has moved beyond focusing on method and has traced its way back up to where it splits off from the rest of philosophy at the juncture of metaphysics and epistemology. Ironically, the intelligent design proponents who are holding ground at that crossroads defend not only metaphysics and religion, but science as well, refusing to let method- and certainty-oriented science trod upon the more nuanced and transcendental branches of the knowledge tree.

We all have a religion. For some, it is science. It is not yet clear whether science or the science-ists will suffer the graver effects.


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More Bad Secular Epistemology

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Heather Mac Donald of The Secular Right has this post responding to Chuck Colson's critique of "scientism." This is an area where secularists and atheists consistently expose their inability to come to grips with the serious philosophical limitations in their worldview. Too many secularists excel at punditry, but are quite out of their their element when it comes to serious philosophy.

Below is my response to Ms. Mac Donald's post:

Heather,

You are not coming toe-to-toe with Colson’s argument. Colson does not deny that scienceists and/or atheists do not recognize beauty or moral truths. Indeed, they do. The argument is that they do not possess a worldview that accounts for such things. Universal standards of beauty, morality, causation, and induction are simply not supported by an atheistic worldview. Instead, they are commonly accused of “borrowing” a theistic worldview. For the most part, theists are glad to have more people under their tent, people who agree that things like human dignity, equality, freedom, et al. are imperative to human flourishing. But without a cogent and systematic supporting framework, they are merely disembodied conclusions floating in the ether, and there is nothing barring one from manipulating them in the service of ghastly purposes.

In other words, the call of Corson and other theistic epistemologists and ethicists is, scienceists should define their premises. This was not historically necessary since, until recently, scientists did not purport to supplant metaphysics. Now that they have cast metaphysics aside, there is quite a hole to be filled. They need to reverse their course or get to the philosophical heavy lifting.


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The Virtue of Capitalism

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Most people don't want the world to move as fast as it does, I think. But we have forgotten how to see things any other way. We go to work for people and corporations whose success depends on moving ahead at a lightning pace. These people and corporations become the ideal of humanity. It no longer matters that they don't give us what we really want, were we to ever remember--modest comforts, earnest employment, and time for family and reflection. Instead, they make greater and greater demands to extract for themselves wealth, recognition, and appeasement of the peculiar desire to give body and soul over to career. Over time, we start to take these qualities as the new ideals of a prosperous society, and wonder how to replace our ideas of earnestness and balance with the total subordination of man and nature to an unnatural competitive will. This unmitigated virtue of capitalism starves all of the other human virtues.


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"The Pragmatic Conceit" on National Review Online

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Anthony Dick points out:

To the extent that it performs any conceptual function at all, pragmatism seems to boil down to the more mundane concepts of flexibility, open-mindedness, and deliberation. A “pragmatist” might be said to be someone who, though inevitably laden with policy prejudices, is willing to put them aside and adapt to new situations as needed. But if this is all that pragmatism means, everybody would self-describe as a pragmatist.

Quite right. I have always thought that pragmatists never quite escape the arguments they lodge against natural rights. In fact, pragmatism is simply a myopic and less articulated version of natural rights theory. Where natural rights theory begins at the beginning, with epistemology and teleology, pragmatism jumps right into social studies and polls to build an argument for some end or another. This skips the hard work of prioritizing the ends and purposes that law means to achieve. And that is precisely why we have our outgoing president making statements like this.


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How "Scienceism" Hides the Ball

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I have been trying to find time to formulate a position on the schism between the "religious right" and, well, what is now apparently called the "Secular Right." Although there are several posts on that site that raise familiar frustrating issues for me with "scienceism," Heather MacDonald has this post that prompted a comment from me, which I thought I'd post here:

Ms. MacDonald,

The trouble with attacking paradigms is that of finding common ground to do so. Various religions of course attack the validity of other religions, and when they do so, they start by finding the common threads between them. Mormons are a great target for Christians, for example, because Mormonism purports to share all the same presuppositions, but then purports to add a whole slew of additional tenets. This is easy pickings for Christians, who will say that the New Testament, which both religions share, specifically forbids this. (I’ve been a bad student of the Bible the past several years, so forgive the lack of a citation.)

The problem with your meta-attack (i.e., an attack on sectarian attacks) is your incorrect assumption of neutrality. I find this to be the most frustrating aspect of secularists — they believe by disavowing religion, they take a paradigm-neutral position by suggesting that science is the only necessary and sufficient common ground allowed. But as David Hume (the pudgy dead Scotish one, not the blogger on this site) showed, science doesn’t come out of the box ready to use. It requires certain extra-empirical preconditions. Nor is it readily apparent that we can talk about things like morality and teleology without laying out your views on what things like “human flourishing” means, what “the good life” entails, and so on.

Religionists have their own internal problems, but at least they give us an instant sense of their presuppositions. We don’t get that with secularists [or "science-ists"], as they tend to take a “shopping cart” approach to values and preconditions of science and rationality and intelligibility. (E.g., “since science requires induction, and I cannot observe induction empirically, and I really really want to use science, I will just assume the uniformity of nature and that the future will resemble the past.”)

This may be fine for most purposes, but secularists ought to be honest about it. Before attacking someone else’s paradigm, then, a secularist ought to first put the terms of his or her own on the table in a philosophically cogent way.


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Empiricists Can Be Fanatical, Too

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Back when I was the editor of the Chapman Law Review, I signed off on the publication of an article on the issue of intelligent design. (The article, "Evolution, Science, And Ideology: Why The Establishment Clause Requires Neutrality in Science Classes,” by Stephen W. Trask, can be found online here.) Not surprisingly, the article found several critics (including this rebuttal article by fellow Chapman Law School alumnus Timothy Sandefur, published in the following issue of the Chapman Law Review).

Although many shallow and ad hominem attacks abounded -- including some lodged against me for having chosen to publish the article -- what disappointed me, and still disappoints me, is that none of the responses to Mr. Trask's article seriously address the epistemological concerns raised therein. I raised that dearth of serious response in an earlier post at Ed Brayton's site, although the discussion abruptly ended thereafter. (Even Tim Sandefur's well-written response linked above fails to go much further down this tough philosophical road than to merely cite an anecdote by pop-atheist Richard Dawkins that "there are no postmodernists at 30,000 feet." 11 Chap. L. Rev 129, 135 (2008). But as I had previously noted, usefulness is not the same thing as knowledge. The question is how we test whether things are useful, but how we can justify our claims to knowledge in them.)

Because I think it important to keep fanatical empiricsts' feet to the fire on these crucial points, I am reposting it here....

I was the editor-in-chief of the Chapman Law Review, which published the paper that set off this cheery debate. One of the reasons we chose the article for publication is that it presented the vexing epistemological problem posited by Hume and Kant, and weaved it into the current debate on ID and the religion clauses. In hindsight, I would tread much more lightly into such hotly debated areas. Like any controversial work, some of the criticism is valid, and some is simply reactionary.

I took the author's key premise to be that both science and religion require the adoption of some fundamental premises that are not subject to observation. This was the key problem submitted by Hume and which endures to this day. Trask argues in his paper that the problem basically puts science and religion on the same epistemological footing. The rest of his arguments take off from there. Love or hate that argument, it is a legitimate philosophical quandary. Ayn Rand and her followers have made light of the problem, but have done little to solve it, other than to set forth their own amalgamation of transcendental, empirically unjustifiable premises. Mixed with vitriol and indignation for good measure.

Most of the article's critics seem to take the pragmatic approach. As I understand it, pragmatism basically takes the different systems of belief, including religious and scientific, and examines which is most practically useful. It then validates the one that provides the most useful information--which, of course, is science. Pragmatism, however, is not really epistemology, but a substitute for it. It simply redefines the term "truth." Truth is no longer defined in the classical sense, as a logically necessary conclusion of undeniable premises. It is instead merely defined in terms of utility, and thus "truth" is recast as that which is most useful.

I doubt anyone will deny the utility of science. And that is not the subject of the paper. Recasting "truth" does not an epistemology make. Many serious philosophers are still concerned with the classical epistemological problems set off by Hume. Many folks are not, and are content with assuming the premises necessary to make science possible and proceeding with a utility-based definition of truth. So to those folks, this paper is, quite literally, written in a different language, and simply does not concern them. Ed Brayton, for example, says that "there is no such thing as a 'scientific fact', there are just facts." This simply misunderstands (or ignores) the epistemic problem. A scientific worldview makes certain epistemic assumptions, such as whether impressions correspond with a physical reality, whether causal relationships exist and can be understood, whether we can expect the future to resemble the past, etc. Such premises, necessary to establishing "truth" and "knowledge," are simply not observable, and thus cannot be explained other than by transcendental argumentation--that to make sense of anything, we must assume certain things to be true.

I do not mean to subject anyone to the convolutions of epistemological arguments. My point is that most of the criticisms against the article completely miss the point, because they fail to go toe to toe at the epistemological level. (Incidentally, I do not mean here to suggest any allegiance on my own part for or against the article or its arguments.) The criticisms instead simply assume the primacy of the scientific method for ascertaining knowledge, and then proceed to argue on the basis of that worldview. This is akin to arguing that Joe is lousy at baseball because Bob throws more touchdowns. Even the terms we use are meaningless until we are talking about the same game.

At bottom, whether or not you agree with the article, or find it persuasive, it was published because it made arguments that would stimulate thought on an important area of intellectual life. Despite Tim Sandefur's suggestion that my colleagues and I should be "ashamed" for publishing the piece, I believe that the apparent failure to understand and confront directly the key epistemological issues it raised suggest the very reason that such articles must be published.


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Limitless Knowledge

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Is there anything that we truly do not know, in the analytic sense? Could it not be said that all things that we do not presently "know" are merely outworkings of things that we do know? For example, I had no idea that when a special shareholders meeting is called, the company has to contact the record holder(s) to do a search of all present securities holders who are entitled to vote at the meeting. Or, in some circumstances the company can freeze the record date for the purpose of determining such securities holders. I didn't know this, but then again, would it not have been possible for me to figure it out if I set to the task of really working through how a public company would operate? This process is reasonable after all, the holders need to be ascertained so they can be noticed, be noticed so they can vote. Or, as a simpler example, do we "know" that 52 plus 13 equals 65? We do not memorize such statements -- instead, we say that we "know" the nature of numbers, and we "know" the nature of arithmetic. Accordingly, we can say that we "know" all valid arithmetical statements.

Thus, maybe there is no need to assume that the continued accumulation of knowledge comes from "out there" somewhere. Maybe it is all analytic, in a sense.


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Why I Am Not a Utilitarian

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Why I am not a utilitarian. Some negatives are immoral and others are not. We remember bad decisions for a time. We remember immoral ones for a lifetime. Utilitarianism depends on being able to unpack all things to their simplest essences. But practically speaking, we cannot. We are not binary. We are bound up not in ends, but in means, in giving consideration and dignity to all aspects of our humanity, not only what we can classify as "valid" or "invalid" in syllogistic terms. Our sensibilities are not binary. But they are not for nothing.


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Notes From Babel

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I set up this blog to post some of the notes I keep reflecting on issues that might interest friends and anyone else who share similar interests in politics, culture, and philosophy. I have had trouble keeping blogs in the past mainly because I have a very hard time posting thoughts that have not been fully developed -- and who has the time to do that? Nonetheless, and with that disclaimer, here goes.

All facets of humanity strive inexorably to greater and greater heights. Why is this? Even by the 18th century, Rousseau observed that man had the tools to be perfectly happy enough, and that in fact perhaps we had already overdone things. A family that relies on hunting, growing, and preparing its own food was not likely to be less happy than those who paid others to do so for them. In fact, having been stripped of the excitement and satisfaction in the hunting, growing, and preparing of their own meals, rich folks took to wearing elegant clothes and arranging to have fine entertainment provided at meals. Thus, where we strive to remove toil, we inevitably remove an important aspect of natural human satisfaction, and consequently must replace it with some artificial mode of satisfaction. Thus Rousseau's theme of the natural versus the artificial.

Mankind has been building his Tower of Babel in this way throughout history. Of course, he cannot keep from doing this. Man does not seek progress only or even primarily for the sake of achieving some greater convenience (certainly we have enough convenience and comfort already). That is indeed what we have on our minds -- we become convinced that only a 50 inch television will do, that we can't be taken seriously in a car that costs less than a two-bedroom house in the 80's. But in this new Obama-age where we are willing to sacrifice our prosperity and happiness for the generation of the next millennium, we start to find that we still can't stop stacking one stone on top of another. We have to keep progressing, we have to keep making our minds productive. Not because we need comfort, and not even because we need to figure out a way to help the lot of the folks who will be born hundreds of years from now. (I suppose we should give them some clean air so they can keep working to pay off that boondoggle of a light rail.) We do it because it's our function.

The problem is, however, that tower is getting too damn big. We've retrofitted it and widened the base, but as it gets ever taller, eventually it'll give way. The faster we make it stretch to the heavens, the sooner it will all be leveled to the ground.

When I turn my toaster oven off in the morning, if I move the dial too far to the left of "Off," I reach the "Stay On" setting. Consequently, there is a very uncomfortable margin of error over whether I will come home to a burned down house or not. There is a similar margin of error between Utopia and Armageddon. The harder we try at perfection, the more certainly we are going to create worse problems.

I do not have an optimistic view of humanity, I'm afraid to say. Eventually, we will ruin ourselves, I'm convinced. We will continue to replace the natural with the artificial, just because we need something to do, something to keep our hands from being idle. And we'll continue to forsake the wisdom of the past as we continue to assert that progress is the standard of veracity, and thus novelties will continue to be regarded as self-authenticating truths.

Perhaps all we can do is direct our stone-stacking instinct towards undoing the damage done by some of our fellow stone-stackers.


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