Philosophy
Religion/Atheism
May 2014
Over dinner the other night, a close friend, my family, and I got into a discussion about the nature of different questions. As I tend to do my thinking on paper, I thought I'd write about my position here.
One of the defining characteristics of modern society is the distinction between "science" and "religion". I've written about this before (here and here). Each category evolved with respect to the other and alongside such concepts as the state and the individual, the public and the private, etc. The distinction was articulated by scientists like Stephen Jay Gould and his "nonoverlapping magisteria" and has been been codified in such concepts as the separation of church and state. It is an important part of how much of the modern world works and why that world has trouble assimilating some versions of "religion" which have political aspirations.
The distinction between "science" and "religion" is a facet of our history, not of the "real world" out there. As such, I tend not to buy the difference between science questions and religion questions, or "how" questions and "why" questions, or "is" claims and "ought" claims. Here's why...
I am an empiricist of sorts; when the cards are down, I think that all knowledge seeks to build a model which explains a certain set of sensory experiences. Whether that experience is a measurement in a laboratory, or feeling of spiritual oneness with the universe, or the sublimity of a Scottish landscape, we place the experience into a model or a story, giving it a context and linking it with other experiences, forming our own little maps of the universe. At their core, our models are built on certain unverifiable and untestable premises. These are the very reasons for which we build the models in the first place. In what are we interested? What are our criteria for a successful model? What do we value in a model?
In Stephen Hawking's latest book, The Grand Design, he espouses what he calls "model dependent realism." I have grown to like this phrase. He argues that we can only speak of the "real world" out there with respect to some model of it. Even some of the most basic concepts of physics are metaphors for a certain set of measurements and expectations. A good example is an electron. It has no known size, just a mass and a charge. No body has ever observed an electron directly—nor could you. Even the electron, that little particle which runs around this laptop and every other circuit in the world, is merely a mental construct invented by scientists to summarize certain observations and predictions about the world. "Electrons" don't exist. They are simply a word, an idea.
Hawking, and others such as the philosopher of science Rudolf Carnap, argue that asking about the veracity of a model is a category mistake. In other words, one model is not more true or less true than another. There is no truth to the matter whether the sun revolves around the earth or vice versa. All we can say is that one aligns better with our criteria for a good model: the heliocentric model explains the most observations in the simplest way possible using only naturalistic mechanisms. If we value simplicity, conformance with observations, and naturalism, heliocentrism is the model for you. If not, then you are free to build a model of your own.
This is not to say that the world itself is a figment of our imagination—to say such a thing is really just a waste of time, if it's all in our heads, who cares? what would change?—but we can only know the world through figments of our imagination.
I think that this way of understanding knowledge (this model of knowledge, if you want to get meta) helps to explain a lot of data I see in the world. For example, it explains why we still have debates on evolution and creationism which stream to millions of people. The evidence is in: evolution is the best, scientific model we have of human origins. But all of that evidence simply doesn't matter, because creationists don't value evidence in their model. Their criteria for a model includes correspondence to a certain interpretation of the Book of Genesis. What is more, the criteria of strict naturalism is contrary to a God who intervenes in the universe with miracles. No amount of evidence will change that. Next time you watch Inherit the Wind, listen to all the little lines about the big cities of North coming in and telling these small-town, simple folk how to live their lives. That's what the fight is really about: values and criteria, not evidence.
But, like the models of the solar system, I think that it is beyond the limits of knowledge to say that evolution is true or that creationism is false. They are simply different models constructed for different reasons.† The same goes for concepts like beauty. There can be scientific explanations and definitions for the experience of beauty (serotonin levels, firing of memory neurons, etc.), but these don't rule out other explanations involving notions of sublimity or cultural appreciation. Neither explanation is more true or more right than the other. Neither has the final say on what beauty is. Beauty changes over time and from place to place. Beauty evolves as we do. Thus, there are not "how" questions and "why" questions. There are simply questions, but there are different answers depending on which model you employ, and which model you employ all depends on what's important to you in the asking.
My eventual (hopeful) book will revolve around this central issue. I think that if we recognize the limits of knowledge, science, and language, we as a species can begin to get at the crux of so many issues, to start seeing what divides us beneath all the rhetoric and mud slinging, and, perhaps, to begin building a better world. It's a long shot, but I'm hoping to at least plant some sequoias...
† This does not mean that each deserve equal time in the publicly funded classroom, or that climate change deniers deserve their say on the floor of congress. We have scientific experts, and our secular government should be beholden to them.