While perusing the New Humanist website, trying to find Francis Spufford’s letter that I discussed yesterday, I came across a short piece I hadn’t seen before. It’s by Massimo Pigliucci, a philosopher (also trained in biology) working at the City University of New York, and is called “Science needs philosophy” (free at the link). If you’ve read Massimo’s website Rationally Speaking on a regular basis, you’ll know that three of his themes are the importance of philosophy for working scientists, the fact that most scientists neglect philosophy to their detriment, and that many of us are afflicted with the dread disease called scientism, which Massimo defines as “the idea that science is the ultimate arbiter of any question, or indeed even of what counts as a meaningful question.”
These points are all emphasized in the New Humanist piece, which starts off with Pigliucci’s “j’accuse”:
A recent New York Times article has noted a new trend in secular writings, what the author, James Atlas, termed “Can’t-Help-Yourself books”. This trend includes writings by prominent scientists and secularists that are characterised by two fundamental – and equally misguided – ideas: an over-enthusiastic embrace of science, and the dismissal of much of human experience under the generic label of “illusion”.
The culprits are many and influential. Physicists Steven Weinberg, Stephen Hawking and Lawrence Krauss, along with biologist EO Wilson, dismiss philosophy (and much of the humanities) as a leftover from pre-scientific thought, to be replaced by the objective and empirical truth arrived at by modern science, especially fundamental physics. Never mind that, as Daniel Dennett aptly put it a while ago, there is no such thing as philosophy-free science, but only science whose philosophical baggage is taken on board unexamined.
And then there are the likes of Sam Harris, Jonathan Haidt, Alex Rosenberg and Jerry Coyne, who claim that science can provide answers to philosophical questions, and that moreover antiquated concepts like free will, consciousness and morality are just illusions, tricks played on us by our Pleistocene-evolved brains. We are not really in control of what we do and think, it’s all done automatically by an inner zombie whose actions were determined since the Big Bang. This despite the fact that serious neuroscientists like Michael Gazzaniga and Antonio Damasio are actually much more careful about what exactly their discipline brings to our understanding of the human mind.
Well, I think this is a bit unfair. First, in my own defense, I’ve never claimed that philosophy has no value for scientists. Au contraire. As I’ve noted before, philosophers like Dan Dennett and Philip Kitcher have been really valuable to me in clarifying the meaning of evolutionary biology, for they bring their formidable philosophical skills to bear on biological problems. (I have, however, noted that I’ve never gotten much value from “straight” philosophers of science like Kuhn or Feyerabend). As I said in a post about Pigliucci’s attacks on Lawrence Krauss’s philosophical naïvité:
Now Massimo and I have had our differences, and I’m generally a fan of Krauss (though I didn’t much like Krauss’s new book), but I’m on Massimo’s side in this one. Despite the famously dismissive statement by Feynman, I think philosophy can be of real value to scientists. It has helped me, for example, rethink and clarify my notions of “free will.”
Second, it is undeniable that science has made inroads on questions that were once the purview of philosophy. Free will is one of these. Although we can argue ad infinitum—as we do—about whether humans have free will, the notion of dualism, the basis of what I see as most people’s (and nearly all religious believers) idea of free will, was dispelled not by philosophy but by science—by the discovery that material stuff and physical forces are all there appears to be.
Further, science can shed light on philosophical questions, as we all know. Even if you reject Sam Harris’s notion that morality equates to what maximizes our well being, we can nevertheless use the tools of science to quantify well-being—if you have a way to define it! As a prime example of how science can inform philosophy and theology, there is the physicists’ notion that a universe can indeed arise from nothing—if you define “nothing” as a quantum vacuum.
As for Pigliucci’s criticism that Harris, Haidt, Rosenberg and I subscribe to the belief that
. . . antiquated concepts like free will, consciousness and morality are just illusions, tricks played on us by our Pleistocene-evolved brains. We are not really in control of what we do and think, it’s all done automatically by an inner zombie whose actions were determined since the Big Bang.
I see it as partly right and partly wrong. I think we are conscious, and that that phenomenon is a property of an evolved brain that may well have arisen by natural selection. It’s not a “spirit” or a “soul” in our heads, but a property of neurons that, I think, will one day be explained. Likewise, we may have some evolved notions of morality, though that doesn’t mean that those notions comport with modern thought. But I do think free will is an illusion in a different way, at least if one thinks that we really have a “will” that is distinct from the deterministic (or quantum-mechanical) forces that operate in our brains. We think our actions originate spontaneously with us, and that we can freely choose between alternatives, but we can’t. The idea that we are the authors of our actions is, to me, an illusion. So, if you accept Cashmore’s definition of free will, which I’ve bolded in the following (and I like his definition better than my own, which was the same as Searle’s), then yes, free will is an illusion:
Searle has described free will as the belief “that we could often have done otherwise than we in fact did” (15). A difficulty with this definition is that it does not distinguish free will from the variability associated with stochasticism. For this reason, I believe that free will is better defined as a belief that there is a component to biological behavior that is something more than the unavoidable consequences of the genetic and environmental history of the individual and the possible stochastic laws of nature. Here, in some ways, it might be more appropriate to replace “genetic and environmental history” with “chemistry”—however, in this instance these terms are likely to be similar and the former is the one commonly used in such discussions. (Cashmore A., Proc. Nat. Acad. Sci. USA, 107:4500; 2010).
But I highly doubt that, contra Pigliucci, our actions have all been determined since the Big Bang, since quantum effects in the universe (and in evolution, in the form of mutations), would surely have changed things were the Big Bang to repeat itself. Absent mutations, which may not be deterministic, humans might not even be around, much less the one named Jerry Coyne!
But I digress—as I always do when the question of free will arises. Pigliucci sees this misguided scientism as being dangerous for society:
I think this is a misguided and dangerous trend, which might backfire on the entire secular movement. . . Or take Rosenberg’s and (again) Harris’s categorical statement that in a deterministic world there is no such thing as consciousness or free will, and consequently no morality.
I’ve heard this before from compatibilists: don’t tell the masses that their behaviors are determined, for they’ll become cheaters and nihilists, (This view is often based on psychological studies in which people cheat more after reading that their behaviors are physically determined.) I see the argument about free will as a healthy one, and feel that there’s no need to protect people from determinism. That’s condescending. People will come to terms with determinism as they have come to terms with something worse: their own mortality. I do believe that there really is no objective morality, and that whether we behave “morally” is not a choice we can freely make. I’m not yet ready to jettison the word “morality,” as it has its uses as social shorthand, but we should realize—especially when we come to characterize or punish people for immorality—that their behavior was not under the control of some amorphous “will.”
So Pigliucci sees this determinism and ancillary ideas as dangerous for the secular movement:
This kind of intellectual hubris [the “reductive determinism” of Sam Harris and Alex Rosenberg] is known as scientism, the idea that science is the ultimate arbiter of any question, or indeed even of what counts as a meaningful question. Taken to its logical extreme, scientism leads to nihilism, and as such is both scientifically untenable (nihilism is a philosophical position, not an empirical one) and philosophically sterile. And if there is one thing that secular humanists do not want , it is to be associated with nihilism, both because it is intellectually uninteresting and because it plays into the worst stereotype of the “godless atheist” that most people still unfortunately hold.
The thing is, humans don’t take things to their logical extremes, because we’re creatures of feeling as well as logic. I don’t act like a robot even though I think I am largely a robot made of meat, and I still denigrate people whom I see behave in bad ways, even though I know they can’t help themselves. I act as if I have free will, even though I know I don’t. The fact that determinists like me aren’t nihilists, and do find meaning and beauty in our lives, shows that it can be done. If determinism led to nihilism, physicists would be the most anarchic and immoral people on Earth!
Pigliucci contrasts scientism with humanism:
On the contrary, humanism is about taking seriously the complexity of the human condition and the limits of human knowledge. Science is a marvellous thing that has brought us computers, airplanes and modern medicine. But it has also brought us the atomic bomb, eugenics and biological warfare. It is a wonderful experience to think like a scientist – believe me, I’ve done it for decades. But that is only one mode of human thinking. Our arsenal is vast, including the ability to critically reflect on what we do and why (philosophy) and to communicate our emotions and perspectives about the world to other human beings (art and literature).
Here we see the denigration of science that invariably accompanies accusations of scientism. But the misuses of science are not the fault of the scientific process itself, but of humans making humanistic ethical judgments about what to do with the products of science, or about what questions should be pursued. Finding out that spirochaetes cause syphillis comes from science, but deciding to withhold treatment from infected poor black people to watch the disease progress comes from bad ethical judgment.
And which scientist decries the value of art and literature, or claims that their value can be dissected only using the tools of science? Yes, some day science might be able to uncover why I personally see Joyce’s The Dead as the best fiction ever written in English, but until then I will continue to be moved to tears by it.
I have yet to see an accusation of scientism that really sticks. Pigliucci is correct in saying that philosophy does have value for science, though its value is, I think, more limited than he descries*. But too often his attacks on scientists for neglecting philosophy sound defensive, the way theologians sound when science begins to encroach on religious turf. Philosophy is of great value in giving us logical tools to think about questions, but it, too, is susceptible to scientific advances.
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*Several readers have suggested that this word is a typo and should be “describes.” It’s not—it comes from the word “descry”





