Tuesday, 28 March 2023

Stephen Jay Gould and E.O. Wilson on the Fact-Value and Science-Religion Distinctions

Stephen Jay Gould’s neat, tidy and sharp separation of values from facts, as well as religion from science, can itself be seen as an expression of his own political values. Rhetorically, Gould’s idea of what religion is seems to have been a product of his own imagination. And, in that imagination, religion completely abided by Gould’s own political sensitivities. Perhaps, then, it was only Gould’s view that religion should “keep[] itself away from science’s turf”, not that it has actually done so.

(i) Introduction
(ii) Fact and Value: Science and Religion
(iii) E.O. Wilson on Deriving an Ought From an Is
(iv) Where Do Values Come From?
(v) The Is-Ought Gap

In his book Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life, the American palaeontologist, evolutionary biologist and historian of science Stephen Jay Gould (1941–2002) argued that science and religion are what he called “nets”. Science is a net which captures certain phenomena. And religion is a different net which captures very different phenomena.

Moreover, these nets have

“a legitimate magisterium, or domain of teaching authority, and the two domains do not overlap”.

It will be argued that Gould is telling us what should be, not what is. Rhetorically, then, Gould’s idea of what religion is seems to have been a product of his own imagination. And, in that imagination, religion completely abided by his own political and diplomatic sensitivities.

Fact and Value: Science and Religion

In the following passage, Stephen Jay Gould went into some detail about the fact-value distinction as it applies to science and religion:

“Science tries to document the factual character of the natural world, and to develop theories that coordinate and explain these facts. Religion, on the other hand, operates in the equally important, but utterly different, realm of human purposes, meanings, and values — subjects that the factual domain of science might illuminate, but can never resolve.”

It almost seems like a statement of the obvious to say that it is outright false to claim that religion restricts itself to “human purposes, meanings, and values”. Religion has also had tons to say (as well as do) about “the factual character of the natural world”. (Do I really need to give examples here?)

Gould’s claim that religion and science are “two magisteria [which] do not overlap” clearly ignores the fact that religion (or religions in the plural) has had very much to say on facts and physical reality. His claims also ignore (or simply play down) the fact that the many and various miracles of religion are supposed to have impacted on physical reality in very specific ways. In addition, prayers are also believed to have concrete effects on the physical world.

The British evolutionary biologist and author Richard Dawkins (see note at the end of this essay) expressed his more abstract position on Gould’s fact (science)-value (religion) distinction in the following:

[I]t is completely unrealistic to claim, as Gould and many others do, that religion keeps itself away from science’s turf, restricting itself to morals and values.”

Dawkins added:

“A universe with a supernatural presence would be a fundamentally and qualitatively different kind of universe from one without. The difference is, inescapably, a scientific difference. Religions make existence claims, and this means scientific claims.”

It is simply false to claim that religion has kept itself to itself, not only “unrealistic”.

So surely what Gould claimed is actually normative, rather than factual.

Perhaps, then, it was Gould’s view that religion should “keep[] itself away from science’s turf”, not that it actually has done so, and will continue to do so in the future. It certainly hasn’t done so in the past. And, clearly, that’s still the case today…

Indeed, isn’t all this obviously the case?

Gould also stated the following:

“‘Do we violate any moral codes when we use genetic technology to place a gene from one creature into the genome of another species?’ represent questions in the domain of values.”

This passage just seems so categorical and dichotomous. A student wouldn’t get away with writing it.

Perhaps Gould did get away with this philosophical ineptitude because his prose style is so literary, and therefore hard to pin down. (Many commentators have praised Gould’s writing style. See Analysis of Stephen Jay Gould’s Writing Style’.) Perhaps it’s also because Gould was so highly regarded as a scientist.

However, the statements above (from Gould) are not themselves scientific. His comments on the neat, tidy and sharp separation of facts from values (or vice versa), and science from religion, can themselves be seen as an expression of Gould’s political values.

Gould’s NOMA (“non-overlapping magisteria”) idea is also extremely artificial. Indeed, it’s a position driven by a desire for political diplomacy.

[Gould once wrote: “Religion is too important to too many people for any dismissal or denigration of the comfort still sought by many folks from theology.”]

In detail. Even if there is no role for scientific (or sociological, psychological, evolutionary, etc.) scrutiny and data on the nature of values, then why should we accept (or trust) anything any religion has to say on it? This isn’t to reject religion’s input out of hand. However, Gould either/or religion/science binary is so crude that it must surely have the consequence that science is automatically excluded from any input on the nature of values — as least values as expressed by religion (or by religions).

And what about philosophy and other forms of critical thinking which are neither scientific nor religious? After all, Gould’s NOMA idea is itself neither scientific nor religious — it’s primarily political.

Moreover, what if the sciences do have something to say on the values we’ve adopted about gene transferal (Gould’s own example) or about any other subject? And what about the evolutionary origins of our values and ethics?

Sure, scientists may well make incorrect claims on these issues. Yet scientists make correct claims too. However, Gould’s neat, tidy and political division leaves no role for any science when it comes to religious values.

[I suspect that Gould might have denied this last claim when expressed in that simple and categorical way. He might have argued — or implied — that there is a role for science when it comes to values… as long as that role doesn’t involve the strong criticism of religion.]

And what about the “moral codes” which Gould said that scientists and others “violate”? What if they are pernicious moral codes? What if they are historically contingent or tribal moral codes?

In these cases, then, the sciences can help with the moral codes themselves, not just with the “facts”.

So what can evolutionary theory and the sciences generally tell us about values and morals?

As British science writer and journalist Matt Ridley puts it (see here), morals involve human behavior, which is observable. And what is observable is open to scientific scrutiny.

Some religious people may now respond by arguing that many claims in evolutionary theory aren’t (always?) based on anything that’s literally (or obviously) observable. They will also stress the theoretical nature of many claims about evolution itself.

In addition, a distinction can be made, and will be made, between the human expressions of values and moral positions, and their abstract or religious (as it were) reality. That is, according to religious people (or monotheists), values and moral truths exist timelessly in the mind of God. And according to some philosophers (such as moral realists), values and moral truths exist timelessly in some abstract space (or domain), and even in the concrete world itself, without having any necessary connection to either God or religion.

To sum up. The core of Gould’s NOMA idea is a consequence of his somewhat naive belief in a chasm (or at least large gap) between fact and value.

Now E.O. Wilson provides an interesting counterpoint to Gould on the fact-value distinction, if not also on the science-religion distinction.

E.O. Wilson on Deriving an Ought From an Is

Some readers may agree with the following passage from Daniel Dennett:

“If ‘ought’ cannot be derived from ‘is,’ just what can ‘ought’ be derived from? Is ethics an entirely ‘autonomous’ field of inquiry? Does it float, untethered to facts from any other discipline or tradition? Do our moral intuitions arise from some inexplicable ethics module implanted in our brains (or our ‘hearts,’ to speak with tradition)?”

In tune with the Dennett passage above, one can say that if the ought (or values) can’t be derived from “facts” (or from the scientific is), then religious values (at least) must indeed be completely autonomous. Indeed, perhaps we can’t derive values from any other domain. (Except, perhaps, philosophy or personal whim.)

The passage from Dennett also squares fairly well with E.O. Wilson’s position.

Edward Osborne Wilson (1929–2021) was an American biologist and naturalist. Wilson has been called “the father of sociobiology”. (He has also been called “the father of biodiversity” for his environmental advocacy.)

E.O. Wilson attempted to provide a scientific account of what he called “ethics”, if not what Gould called “values”. In addition, Wilson seemed to believe that an ought can be derived from an is, which Gould clearly didn’t believe.

[Various philosophers have offered us very intricate examples and analyses of how an ought can be derived from an is — see here. However, none of them seem to bear much of a relation to Gould’s position on religion and values.]

If religion is truly an autonomous “magisterium”, then its values can’t be derived from scientific facts or, indeed, from what is (i.e., not anything outside the religious what is).

That said, whereas Gould’s NOMA (i.e., “non-overlapping magisteria”) fails because it is primarily political in nature, Wilson’s position fails because his overall position on the is-ought distinction is (I believe) philosophically flawed.

[Wilson, in turn, believed that philosophy is a waste of time primarily because he — like many physicists and other scientists — believed that all philosophers ignore all science. See here.]

More relevantly, E.O. Wilson took almost the exact opposite position to Gould.

Whereas Gould demanded that science must keep out of the magisterium of religion, and that religion must keep out of the magisterium of science, Wilson believed that values and ethics (if not religion itself) are the sole domain of science.

It’s not surprising, then, that someone who believed in (universal) scientific consilience should have believed that ethics (if not religion) is a suitable subject for scientific scrutiny. (Consilience:the principle that evidence from independent, unrelated sources can ‘converge’ on strong conclusions”.)

[It’s interesting, and not coincidental, that there were both scientific and political conflicts between Gould and Wilson. In fact, it can be argued — and many people have — that the scientific conflicts were largely political in nature, at least on Gould’s part. See here and here.]

Where Do Values Come From?

So how did E.O. Wilson explain science’s relatively new interest in ethics? Wilson argued:

“The objective meaning of ethical precepts comprises the mental processes that assemble them and the genetic and cultural histories by which they evolved. Those who think that an is/ought gap exists have not reasoned through the way the gap is filled by mental process and history.”

So what do the words “the objective meaning of ethical precepts” mean?… Actually, it’s fairly clear what Wilson was getting at. Still, it’s an odd use of the words “the objective meaning of”.

Clearly, Wilson was offering what he took to be a purely descriptive position on “ethical precepts”, not a normative one. Perhaps it follows from this (at least to some people) that it’s not ethics at all. Instead, it’s simply the scientific study of human ethics…

Wilson might well have dismissed that just-stated distinction.

In more detail, Wilson’s position can be seen as being purely scientific. That’s primarily because of statements such as the following:

[E]thical precepts comprises the mental processes that assemble them and the genetic and cultural histories by which they evolved.”

These passages are about what we (whoever “we” are) have taken ethical precepts to be — not what ethical precepts are or what they should be. In that sense, then, it can be argued that Wilson’s position isn’t ethics at all. It’s the scientific (i.e., biological, neuroscientific, psychological, sociological, historical, etc.) study of human ethics.

Again, Wilson might well have taken these distinctions to be entirely bogus.

Yet isn’t ethics about how we should live, not how we have lived and how we do live?

More concretely, if Wilson believed that ethics is the study of the “genetic and cultural histories by which [ethical precepts] evolved”, then perhaps we can’t do much (or even anything) about such causal aetiologies of our ethical standards and principles. That’s the case because such things have already happened.

So is this is simply a causal account of what we believe and do in the ethical sphere?

As already stated, perhaps the study of the “mental process that assemble [our ethical precepts]” isn’t itself in the domain of ethics.

The Is-Ought Gap

Is the is/ought gap (or is-ought problem) bridged simply by reasoning about this “mental process and history”?

And is all this still in the magisterium of the is and was, not in the magisterium of the ought?

In detail. Even if we can fill in the gap (as Wilson put it) between the original causes of our beliefs and principles and the beliefs and principles themselves which followed, then does that bridging alone take us into the normative (or from the is to the ought) ? By filling in the causal gaps between causes and their effects (ethical precepts in Wilson’s book), then perhaps we still don’t move from the is to the ought (or from the descriptive to the normative).

So it’s still unclear why Wilson believed that the is/ought gap has been (or can be) bridged or “filled’ in the way he outlined.

To repeat. How will acquiring knowledge of the causes of our ethical precepts tell us whether or not our precepts are the right or the wrong ones? The causal or scientific facts of genetics (or whatever scientific data we can find or use) may indeed help us understand why we hold our ethical precepts. However, surely such facts alone can’t tell us why we should still hold them.

The English philosopher, writer and journalist Julian Baggini (1968 — ) sees some of these problems too. He writes:

“The idea here seems to be that ethical precepts — for example, the incest taboo — have their roots in particular genetic and cultural histories. It is clear that understanding such histories will be a useful tool in making ethical judgements. What is less clear is that this is a way out of the is/ought problem.”

We will indeed learn much from the aetiology of the incest taboo. However, we won’t learn whether or not that taboo is right or wrong from studying its “roots in particular genetic and cultural histories”. This knowledge, of course, may (again) help us in other ways. It will tell us, for example, that the taboo wasn’t passed down from heaven or that it’s not a non-natural precept which we somehow “intuit”. What’s more, all that scientific knowledge may — or will — indeed have an effect on our “ethical judgements”. However, that knowledge will not, at least not on its own, determine the conclusions of our ethical judgements…

So what will?

Wilson seems to have argued that we can indeed derive what we ought to do from what is (or what was) the case. That is, if something is genetically and/or culturally inscribed, then it must be a correct ethical precept…

Yet that clearly doesn’t follow.

What’s more, Wilson himself probably wouldn’t have accepted that this was his position when expressed in that categorical and simple way.

Our natural instincts, for example, may be bad instincts. As Baggini (again) puts it when he argues that

“we will do well to struggle to behave in ways that might seem contrary to our natural instincts, as, for example, with respect to ethical precepts rooted in a mistrust of strangers or in aggression responses”.

Of course certain natural instincts may also be good instincts. So it all just depends…

*********************

(*) See my essay ‘Stephen Jay Gould on Science and Religion: The Politics of Non-Overlapping Magisteria’.

Notes:

(1) Many people have a (to use the Reverend Ian Paisley’s words about his attitude toward Catholics) “perfect hate” of Richard Dawkins. This is hardly surprising when one considers the fact that religion had a “hegemonic” political, moral and social position for millennia — as Stephen Jay Gould himself noted. And Dawkins strongly criticises that hegemonic entity which Gould says people feel strongly about. (Gould: “Religion is too important to too many people for any dismissal or denigration [].”) Thus, people feel strongly about Dawkins largely because he criticises the religion they feel strongly about.

(2) Stephen Jay Gould wrote:

[] I also know that souls represent a subject outside the magisterium of science. My world cannot prove or disprove such a notion, and the concept of souls cannot threaten or impact my domain. Moreover, while I cannot personally accept the Catholic view of souls, I surely honor the metaphorical value of such a concept both for grounding moral discussion and for expressing what we most value about human potentiality: our decency, care, and all the ethical and intellectual struggles that the evolution of consciousness imposed upon us.”

There’s a problem here. Religious people (Catholics in this case) do not see souls as having “metaphorical value”. They believe that souls are real or that they (well) exist. They also believe the the nature of souls is truthfully expressed in religious texts — and what is expressed in them bears no resemblance to what Gould says about them. In that sense, then, Gould’s view of souls can be deemed to be both insulting and condescending to religious people. Indeed, his view is also like “the God of the philosophers” in that it bears little resemblance to (as it were) the God of the people.

Of course, Gould might have replied to these accusations by saying that only to him are souls (as it were) metaphorical entities. In that case, then, when Gould discussed souls with religious people (if he ever did), then wouldn’t both parties have been talking about two different things or even talking passed each other?

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Friday, 24 March 2023

Life and the Universe are Neither Meaningless nor Meaningful

Many religious people look for the (singular) meaning of Lifethe Universe and everything. The existentialists, on the other hand, embraced the meaninglessness (or absurdity) of these very same things. Yet surely the latter position is just an inversion of a binary opposition. In Derrida’s terms, one half of this opposition is completely parasitical on the other half. Ironically, then, the existentialists embraced religious ways of thinking.

“I would warn you that I do not attribute to nature either beauty or deformity, order or confusion. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called beautiful or ugly, well-ordered or confused.” — Baruch Spinoza

Oddly enough, this essay was motivated by what the physicist and science writer Paul Davies wrote on the possible absurdity of the Universe. Thus, it wasn’t initially a reaction to what the existentialists or Albert Camus wrote on this subject.

Davies believes that if (what he calls) “the laws” of the Universe can’t be explained, then we must live in an “absurd” universe. I took issue with that position in my essay ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Faith in His Idea That Science is “Founded on Faith”’.

In an op-ed article called ‘Taking Science on Faith’ (which was published by the New York Times), Davies argues that without an ultimate explanation of the laws of the Universe (or any answers to his deep questions), then nature is a fiendishly clever bit of trickery”. What’s more, we are faced with

“meaninglessness and absurdity somehow masquerading as ingenious order and rationality”.

So why use the word “absurdity” here? (Davies also used the words “reasonless absurdity”.)

As many readers will know, the word “absurdity” (or “absurd”) is used all the time in this debate about the nature of the Universe and our relation to it. However, it’s very easy to view it as being used in an almost entirely rhetorical or poetical way.

The Word “Absurd”

The word “absurd” is sometimes defined as “extremely silly” and/or “ridiculous”. And the word “absurdity” can be used as a simple synonym for “unreasonableness” or “reasonlessness”.

Yet the word “absurdity” isn’t always (or even usually) used as a simple synonym of “unreasonableness” or “reasonlessness”. More relevantly, these definitions don’t capture what, for example, the absurdists and existentialists had in mind.

Basically, the definitions above simply aren’t heavy (or deep) enough.

The following definitions, then, may take us closer to the Deepness.

On the whole, the existentialists saw “absurdity” as the Universe “having no rational or orderly relationship to human life” (see here).

As for the absurdist playwrights and novelists (see here and here) of the 1940s and 1950s: they took absurdity to be the “condition in which human beings exist in an irrational and meaningless universe”. What’s more, in that irrational universe, “human life has no ultimate meaning”.

Ironically, it can be argued that the absurdists and existentialists were simply embracing religious ways of thinking.

What’s meant by this is that many religious people look for the (singular) Meaning of Life… the Universe and everything. The absurdists and/or existentialists, on the other hand, embraced the meaninglessness (or absurdity) of Life, the Universe and everything. Yet surely this is just a binary opposition. In Jacques Derrida’s terms, one half of the binary (i.e., the position that Life, the Universe and everything is meaningless) is completely parasitical on the other half (i.e., the position that Life, the Universe and everything is meaningful).

Indeed, according to John Foley, the French author, dramatist and philosopher Albert Camus accepted Jean-Paul Sartre’s religion-inspired definition of “the Absurd” as being the following:

“That which is meaningless. Thus man’s existence is absurd because his contingency finds no external justification.”

So what is that “external justification” to which Sartre referred?

Surely it must be God and (His?) “absolute values”.

That must also mean that most existentialists accepted the religious view on what is and isn’t absurd. The difference being that they embraced it.

Thus, again, existentialism was parasitical on religion (or on Christianity) in it also accepted the choice that we must make between universal meaningfulness or universal meaninglessness. However, instead of embracing universal meaning as most religious people do, the existentialists embraced absurdity instead.

In a strong sense, then, religion was still calling the shots. And that’s not a surprise when you consider the fact that nearly all the absurdists and existentialists were brought up in strongly religious (i.e., Christian) environments. (See “Existentialist concerns are essentially religious concerns”.)

What is Absurd?

It’s certainly not the case that all people define (or take) the word “absurd” in the same way.

Take the American philosopher Thomas Nagel’s examples of the absurd in the following:

[S]omeone gives a complicated speech in support of a motion that has already been passed; a notorious criminal is made president of a major philanthropic foundation; you declare your love over the telephone to a recorded announcement; as you are being knighted, your pants fall down.”

[This passage can be found in Thomas Nagel’s paper ‘The Absurd’.]

Some people may well claim that the first example (i.e., “someone gives a complicated speech in support of a motion that has already been passed”) is indeed absurd. Yet many others won’t. (They will see it in various other ways.)

The second example (i.e., “a notorious criminal is made president of a major philanthropic foundation”) is surely more about something being morally and/or politically problematic, rather than absurd.

All that said, my interpretations of the word “absurd” (at least in these contexts) aren’t set in stone either. And that’s the problem here.

Nagel seems to disagree with this emphasis on contextuality.

Although Nagel takes a position against Camus and his stance on the absurd, he nonetheless sees absurdity (or the Absurd) as being a (as it were) real concrete thing.

Nagel even mentions the “philosophical sense of absurdity” (at least in relation to Camus), and explains it in this way:

[I]t must arise from the perception of something universal — some respect in which pretension and reality inevitably clash for us all.”

Whether or not Nagel accepts this account or simply states it, it’s still not clear that all other accounts (even if philosophical) of absurdity need square with what Nagel, Camus or any of the existentialists wrote on the subject.

Moreover, perhaps Nagel’s account of absurdity is beholden to (or even parasitical upon) Camus’s account; just as Camus’s own account was beholden to the religion (or Christianity) he rebelled against (see here). That said, Nagel did reject Camus’s general conclusions. However, Nagel still offered his readers a single account of something that he deemed to be real — absurdity.

The following is what absurdity is to Nagel. Nagel tells us that

[r]eflection on our minuteness and brevity appears to be intimately connected with the sense that life is meaningless; but it is not clear what the connection is”.

Nagel is both right and wrong on this. Many people may well reflect on the “minuteness and brevity” of their lives, yet they won’t also conclude that (Platonic) “life” is “meaningless”. Other people may well conclude that it is. So it depends on the individual.

Nagel is also right when he says that there’s no necessary (or immediate) connection between this minuteness and brevity of human life and meaninglessness. Again, the fact that “we are going to die” has no necessary connection to absurdity (or meaninglessness) either.

The Psychologies of Existentialists

Much of what has been written on the subject of absurdity is a case of writers, philosophers and religious people projecting onto Life, the Universe and everything (see ‘Psychological projection’). However, it isn’t the case that what people believe and feel passes over to Life, the Universe and everything.

So when it comes to the supposed absurdity and/or meaninglessness of Life, the Universe and everything, perhaps it’s all largely about individual human temperaments and psychologies. In other words, there are no (as it were) facts about any of this. (Unless we can refer to facts about — or the “verbal reports” of — the temperaments and psychologies of individuals and social groups.) Indeed, there aren’t even any across-the-board generalisations which can be made about what all (adult) human beings believe (or think) about Life, the Universe and everything.

So let’s heed some words of warning from Baruch Spinoza when he referred to the anthropocentric view of Life, the Universe and everything (or, at the least, the anthropocentric view of the Universe and everything). Thus:

“I would warn you that I do not attribute to nature either beauty or deformity, order or confusion. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called beautiful or ugly, well-ordered or confused.”

[I must come clean here and say that I’ve quoted this passage many times in my essays.]

Spinoza’s central philosophical point is that Nature can only (as it were) be. All the rest is simply (in contemporary parlance) human psychological projection.

So let’s rewrite Spinoza’s passage above to make it more relevant to the theme of this essay:

I would warn you that I do not attribute to Life, the Universe and everything either meaningfulness or meaninglessness. Only in relation to our imagination can things be called meaningful or meaningless.

Another way of looking at all this is to invert the usual way of looking at (existentialist) absurdity.

Life, the Universe and everything didn’t bring about the “depression, anxiety and despair” of the existentialists. These people might well have already been suffering from varying degrees of depression, despair and anxiety, and only then did they develop their views on absurdity and meaninglessness. In other words, the philosophical views of the existentialists were a least partly (or even largely) a result of their already-existing psychological (or brain/genetic) conditions. Or, at the very least, there was a subtle interplay between the psychological and physiological states (as well as their temperamental dispositions) of the existentialists, and their philosophical positions.

Conclusion

Perhaps the existentialists should have seen their own views as being absurd and/or meaningless. After all, if Life, the Universe and everything are absurd, then existentialist views about these things must also be absurd (or meaningless) too.

Who knows, perhaps some existentialists and absurdists acknowledged this.

So Life, the Universe and everything aren’t meaningless (or absurd). And they don’t instantiate meaning either.

What’s more, they don’t lack meaning for all individuals. They lack meaning for particular individuals at particular times. And, at least in the cases discussed in this essay, Life, the Universe and everything lacked meaning for French intellectuals in the 1940s and 1950s (see here).

Finally, perhaps absurdity should neither be embraced nor rejected. And that’s primarily because the word “absurdity” (at least as used by absurdists and existentialists) isn’t always useful or accurate in most philosophical and scientific contexts.

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Sunday, 19 March 2023

Stephen Jay Gould on Science and Religion: The Politics of “Non-Overlapping Magisteria”

This essay doesn’t (as it were) have a go at religion. Instead, it simply highlights how poor Stephen Jay Gould’s arguments are. Indeed, it also argues that Gould’s arguments are poor precisely because his prime motivation was one of political diplomacy between science and religion. It should also be noted here that this essay doesn’t even consider Gould’s crude and simplistic advocacy of the fact/value distinction, as it applies to science and religion.

(i) Introduction: Non-Overlapping Magisteria?
(ii) Gould’s Political Stance on Science and Religion
(iii) Gould’s Diplomacy When it Came to Religion
(iv) More on Gould’s Political and Diplomatic Stance
(v) Gould’s Other Motivations

Stephen Jay Gould (1941 — 2002) was an American palaeontologist, evolutionary biologist and a historian of science.

Gould was also known for his popular essays (one of which is central to this piece) in the magazine Natural History, and also for his best-selling books.

Introduction: Non-Overlapping Magisteria?

Stephen Jay Gould first expressed the position focussed upon in this essay in 1997. It can be found in an essay called ‘Non-overlapping Magisteria’, which Gould wrote for Natural History magazine. (He used it again in his 1999 book, Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life.)

Gould’s most absolute and categorical expression of his science-religion division (abbreviated to NOMA) can be found in his simple statement that “[t]hese two magisteria do not overlap”.

Interestingly enough, the National Academy of Sciences also adopted a stance (in 1999) which was very much like Gould’s own. Its publication Science and Creationism stated the following:

“Scientists, like many others, are touched with awe at the order and complexity of nature. Indeed, many scientists are deeply religious. But science and religion occupy two separate realms of human experience. Demanding that they be combined detracts from the glory of each.”

[The National Academy of Sciences sees “political commitment” and “political engagement” as part of its remit — see here. Perhaps this was at least partly down to scientist-activists like Richard C. Lewontin — a friend of Gould and fellow member of the political group Science for the People — claiming that the NAS should take political positions on certain scientific subjects and issues. (See Lewontin’s ‘Why I Resigned from the National Academy of Sciences’, written in 1971.))

Readers may be surprised to know that Gould borrowed the term “magisterium” from Pope Pius XII’s encyclical Humani generis (1950). That’s said because Gould was a socialist. Indeed, according to many and even himself at times, he was a Marxist (see here). So note here that Gould most certainly wasn’t a Christian socialist. And he wasn’t a practising Jew either. He was an atheist (see here). That said, there’s much dispute on whether Gould was an out-and-out Marxist and an out-and-out atheist. Perhaps, then, Gould’s artful ambivalence on these classifications was politically and strategically —i.e., not philosophically — motivated. That is, it wasn’t really a result of Gould’s deep sophistication on matters of religion and science.

Gould’s politics has just been mentioned.

Gould’s Political Stance on Science and Religion

It can easily be argued that Stephen Jay Gould came up with his “non-overlapping magisteria” idea primarily for political reasons. That is, he believed that it’s far too politically dangerous to have a (as some commentators have put it) “crude and simplistic” attitude toward religion. In fact, in various and many places, Gould virtually admitted his political motivations on this subject (as we shall see throughout this essay).

Gould’s basic idea (which he sometimes stated outright) is that the various and many religions have so many adherents, have such a long history, and that religious people feel so very strongly about their chosen religion, that it would be politically crazy and (as it were) sadistic to take a strong line on them. (Professor of Psychology Ciarán Benson speaks in rhetorical terms about science being “sadistic” toward religion when it attempts to enforce “a brand of SM bondage of the others by the scientific magisterium”.) Indeed, it can even be argued that Gould believed that it would be crazy and sadistic to tell the truth about any of the many chasms and conflicts which obviously exist between religion and science.

So Gould’s position was essentially political.

Indeed, the fact that there are such chasms and conflicts between religion and science was precisely why Gould concocted his non-overlapping magisteria (NOMA) idea in the first place.

In Gould’s own words:

“Religion is too important to too many people for any dismissal or denigration of the comfort still sought by many folks from theology.”

The problem here is both simple and obvious.

Gould’s notion of non-overlapping magisteria seems to leave all religions (as well as all their claims) untouched by anyone on the outside. Or, at the very least, it leaves religions and their claims untouched by science.

It should also be said that religion would become untouchable if scientists, politicians, philosophers and everyone else followed Gould’s NOMA idea.

And, of course, if religion is untouchable by science, then it’s probably also untouchable by anything else… at least if the (as it were) touching is in any way negative or critical.

Stated in that way, then, Gould’s idea is quite incredible and indeed very dangerous. (Ironically, a cursory view of Gould’s political pronouncements — i.e., outside his NOMA idea — will show that he didn’t practice much political or, indeed, scientific diplomacy.)

It can now be said that Gould’s religion-science division is far too neat and tidy. It’s also far too convenient.

Gould’s Diplomacy When it Comes to Religion

It was just mentioned that Gould’s NOMA idea is far too neat, tidy and convenient. Indeed, Gould recognised this in the following passage:

“Each [] subject has a legitimate magisterium, or domain of teaching authority. [] This resolution might remain all neat and clean if the nonoverlapping magisteria (NOMA) of science and religion were separated by an extensive no man’s land. But, in fact, the two magisteria bump right up against each other, interdigitating in wondrously complex ways along their joint border.”

In basic terms, then, the logic of this argument is poor. After all, at one point in history (say, the late 1930s), there were tens of millions of Nazis in Europe and beyond. And, at another point in history (say, the 1940s), there were also tens of millions (perhaps over a hundred million) communists. (Many of them were full-blown supporters of Joseph Stalin.) So should we have refrained from (to change the tense of Gould’s own word) dismissing their views too?

What about today?

In 2023, there are tens of millions Islamists or “radicals”. (Some argue that there are between 180 million to 300 million Islamists or radicals.) And there are also millions of “Christian fundamentalists”. (I suspect that many people will question the terms “Islamists”, “radical” and “fundamentalist”.) So should we refrain from dismissing their views?

However, if Gould didn’t include Islamists, Christian fundamentalists, etc. in his religious magisterium, then how did he rationalise that selectivity? Would he have resorted to politics again? (Gould would have no doubt believed that my comparisons — or analogies — are unfair.)

So are (specific?) religions special?

Gould certainly believed that religion is special. And, as such, he also believed that religion should be treated as something special.

More on Gould’s Political and Diplomatic Stance

Gould’s desire for diplomacy (or at least diplomacy toward religion) was displayed when he told us that

“NOMA enjoys strong and fully explicit support, even from the primary cultural stereotypes of hard-line traditionalism”.

Gould continued by saying that NOMA is a

“sound position of general consensus, established by long struggle among people of goodwill in both magisteria”.

Gould’s political diplomacy was also based on body counts. He once stated that, according to polling data at the time, 80 to 90% of Americans believed in God. Thus, Gould concluded by stating that

“we have to keep stressing that religion is a different matter, and science is not in any sense opposed to it [if scientists don't accept that, then] we’re not going to get very far”.

… Except that Gould did not believe in diplomacy in all areas. As a political “radical”, he certainly didn’t believe in diplomacy toward the many people he deemed to be Nazis and fascists. And, arguably, Gould wasn’t known for his diplomacy toward those scientists who offered theories he believed to be (as many people on the Left often put it) “politically dangerous”. (As Gould expressed when a member of the political group Science for the People. See here.) And he wasn’t particularly diplomatic toward capitalists, Republicans, etc. either.

So, again, it’s clear that Gould gave religion a special status.

Gould’s political diplomacy was made even more clear when he described NOMA as a

“blessedly simple and entirely conventional resolution to [] the supposed conflict between science and religion”.

The words “supposed conflict between science and religion” are utterly bizarre. More particularly, the word ”supposed” is the prime offender.

Of course, there has been much conflict between science and religion. So surely Gould couldn’t have meant that there had been no conflict. Does that mean, then, that Gould believed that, in actual fact, there should be no conflict?

This depends on how strongly one takes the word “conflict” and on particular examples. In any case, perhaps there would be no conflict at all if everyone on both sides accepted and embraced Gould’s own idea of non-overlapping magisteria

But they don’t!

And why should they?

Indeed, is this truce or pact even likely on a large scale?

Gould’s Other Motivations

Gould wrote:

“NOMA also cuts both ways. If religion can no longer dictate the nature of factual conclusions residing properly within the magisterium of science, then scientists cannot claim higher insight into moral truth from any superior knowledge of the world’s empirical constitution.”

So did Gould allow religion (as it were) free reign because he wanted to secure a reciprocal freedom for science?

Again, this just seems like a purely political and diplomatic advocacy of a truce.

Not that there’s anything wrong with diplomacy or with truces.

The point here, then, is that this is what Gould was doing and that should be made clear. Indeed, it all seems somewhat obvious.

Again, NOMA is so neat and tidy precisely because it was Gould’s political attempt at a diplomatic truce between religion and science. In philosophical and even scientific terms, however, Gould’s arguments are very poor. And that, again, is primarily because his main (or even only) aim was to create a political truce between science and religion.

What’s more, Gould (kinda) admitted this in various places.

Of course, Gould didn’t use the word “political” to describe NOMA. Instead, he — at least partly — saw it as being a diplomatic position. (In his own words, NOMA is “very practical”.)

It can safely be said that Gould would have denied any accusations of being motivated exclusively by politics and diplomacy.

For example, in a speech to the American Institute of Biological Sciences, Gould said the following:

[T]he reason why we support that position is that it happens to be right, logically.”

Yet he immediately continued:

“But we should also be aware that it is very practical as well if we want to prevail.”

[Gould also stated that his position was not “a mere diplomatic stance”.]

Thus, Gould was hinting at (or simply stating) that there was a perfect and very convenient match between what is “right” and logical, and what is diplomatic.

How neat, tidy and convenient that is. Indeed, how political it really is.

Finally, if securing a truce between religion and science is so important, and it should be brought about (as the phrase has it) “by any means necessary”, then perhaps I shouldn’t have written this critical essay on Gould’s idea of non-overlapping magisteria.

********************************

Notes:

(1) The fact-value distinction is a minefield. See a critical account of Stephen Jay Gould’s own use of the distinction here.

(2) There is another way of making sense of Gould’s political diplomacy toward religion.

Take one of the reasons why many people on the Radical Left have become largely (sometimes completely) uncritical of religion.

For over a hundred years, millions of Marxists and/or communists held very strong and aggressive positions against religion. That was the case until the 1960s and beyond. Indeed, all this can be dated back to Karl Marx’s “opium of the people” and all that. It can also be said that if religion is a “mere epiphenomenon” of economic and political realities, then its claims can neither be true nor fully respected.

However, if religion is indeed the opium of all the oppressed who exist within capitalist systems (as well as “the sigh of the oppressed creature”), then there’s little point in getting angry with — or even critical about — religion and the religious. Indeed, the opposite may be a better political and strategic position for the those on the Radical Left.

So was this Stephen Jay Gould’s own position?

Some contemporary Marxists have also offered us more (so it’s argued) “sophisticated” and “nuanced” — or politically diplomatic and strategic — interpretations of what Marx and other communists said about religion.

In any case, things quickly changed.

I believe the main reason for that was demographics and ethnicity. It came to be seen that many religious people in Europe and America were not “white”. Thus, it also came to be seen that it may be (or is) politically dangerous to criticise the religions of people who aren’t white. More specifically, the term “racist” then came to be used against the critics of Islam (e.g., by the Socialist Workers Party and many other groups and individuals).

Of course, some critics of Islam are indeed racist.

The Guardian newspaper is a good example of this new trend on the Left.

Over the decades, the Guardian published very many articles which were strongly — sometimes fiercely — critical of Christianity. Then that changed — seemingly overnight. The Guardian (or at least a few Guardian journalists) came to realise that many religious people in the UK were Muslims. And most Muslims aren’t white. Thus, it concluded that attacks on Islam were often (sometimes always) what it called “racist”. (This all occurred quite recently — in the late 1990s and 2000s.)

This about-turn on religion as a whole was largely the result of the work of particular Guardian journalists. However, it also seems to have become the Guardian’s general editorial stance. (This new attitude toward religions is deemed to be more “nuanced” and “sophisticated” by those journalists and writers who expressed it.)

Of course, there are exceptions to this trend in the Guardian, as displayed by a handful of pieces which are still critical of religion.

More relevantly, Stephen Jay Gould himself would have certainly noted the ethnicity (or colour) of many religious people in the United States. And, to put it simply, he would have then concluded that this racial and religious reality had important political ramifications.

[The Guardian journalist Andrew Brown is a good example of all the above. See his ‘Why I don’t believe people who say they loathe Islam but not Muslims’. See also the paper ‘The Racialization of Muslims: Empirical Studies of Islamophobia’ by Steve Garner and Saher Selod, which explicitly states that the criticism of Islam is racist. Indeed, what came to be called “Islamophobia” was — and still is — widely deemed to be entirely racist by many of the people who use that term.]

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