Monday, 11 March 2024

Nothing is Something: Some Heavy Philosophy

 

(i) Introduction
(ii) The Grammar of the Word “Nothing”
(iii) The History of Nothing
(iv) Parmenides on Nothing
(v) Russell and Quine on Nothing
(vi) Martin Heidegger on Nothing
(vii) Graham Priest on Nothing


Opening Note

As will be seen throughout this essay, the word “nothing” has, at time, been capitalised in a Heideggerian (or Platonic) manner.

Why?

The statement

It’s the case that really nothing is important.

when expressed as, say, psychological and personal advice, is different to the statement

It’s the case that nothing is important.

when expressed as a statement about ontology.

Basically, I borrowed this capitalisation from John D. Barrow. (He, presumably, capitalised the word “nothing” for roughly the same reason.)


Nothing?

What is it?

If we deal with the English word “nothing”, then, etymologically, it begins life simply as “no thing”. It’s also been defined as “the complete absence of anything”.

Of course, even these basic beginnings are problematic.

The following four questions can now be asked:

(1) “No thing” in which place?
(2)
No thing at which time?
(3) The “complete absence of anything” everywhere? Or just somewhere?
Finally,
(4) The
complete absence of everything at all times? Or just at certain times?

In any case, why has Nothing been so important in philosophy and religion?

The English cosmologist, theoretical physicist and mathematician John D. Barrow (mentioned a moment ago) summed things up with the following passage:

“So much for these snippets of nothing. They show us nothing more than there is a considerable depth and breath to the contemplation of Nothing.”

We’ll see that the “considerable depth and breadth” on the subject of Nothing may well be largely down to the grammar of the word “nothing”.

To put that another way.

Perhaps there is considerable depth and breadth to Nothing because the word “nothing” is used in so many different ways by so many different people. This effectively means that Nothing can’t really be something specific even when believed to be considerably deep and wide.

John Barrow also tells us that

“Eastern philosophies provided habits of thought in which the idea of Nothing-as-something was simple to grasp and not only negative in its ramifications”.

This claim almost entirely depends on what Eastern philosophers took Nothing to be. After all, it turns out that they meant something very different by the word “nothing” to what many Western philosophers meant — and still mean. Indeed, “nothing” is such a problematic word (at least when tackled philosophically) that different Eastern philosophers themselves will have meant different things by the word “nothing” (i.e., when this word is suitably translated into the relevant languages).

In any case, what’s just been said about the word “nothing” is also true of the words “consciousness”, “freedom”, “truth”, “justice”, “existence”, etc. Indeed, it’s likely that “nothing” is even more problematic than these well-known cases.

The Grammar of the Word “Nothing”

John Barrow waxes even more lyrically about Nothing in the following passage:

“At first, such questions about the meaning of Nothing seemed hard, then they appeared unanswerable, and then they appeared meaningless: questions about Nothing weren’t questions about anything.”

Perhaps much of this “paradoxical” and heavy stuff is largely down to grammar.

Yes! This view is very old-fashioned.

[Most other philosophical positions are also old-fashioned.]

It’s old-fashioned because it dates back (in various ways) to Wittgenstein, the logical positivists, “ordinary-language” philosophers, etc. Of course, all these Dead Philosophers made their points about grammar, language and philosophy in very different ways. Indeed, I make my own points in my own way.

[For example, I have a problem with the logical positivists’ term “meaningless”. See later section.]

On the other hand, Nothing may well be meaty and profound for the simple reason that it has featured so strongly in philosophy, theology and even in physical cosmology.

Yet, despite that acknowledgment, perhaps the old questions about Nothing were (to use Barrow’s word again) “hard” primarily because of the grammar of the word “nothing”. Indeed, as Wittgenstein put it (in his Philosophical Investigations) about many other words pained over by philosophers for hundreds of years, when it comes to the word “nothing” (in this case), the following can be stated:

“A whole cloud of philosophy [is] condensed into a drop of grammar.”

All that said, sentences with the word “nothing” in it, and questions about Nothing, can’t be “meaningless” for the simple reason that they may not be questions about Nothing itself. Instead, they may largely be about the word “nothing”, as well as about how people use that word.

The History of Nothing

According to traditional Christianity, God created the world out of Nothing. Interestingly, John the Scot (or Johannes Scotus Eriugena — c. 815–877) argued that the word “nothing” (in this context at least) is synonymous with “God”. [Thus, God created the world out of God?]

Eriugena’s position displays the (as it were) semantic reality of this overall issue.

So what about other philosophers?

Philosophers have denied that Nothing “exists”, and also stated that it does exist. Other philosophers have seen the entire issue of Nothing as a non-problem — or even as a “pseudo-problem”.

On another tangent. This philosophical and religious (as it were) interest in Nothing has been at least partly down to the horror vacui. (Put in plain English, the idea that “nature abhors a vacuum”.) An early version of this was displayed by Leucippus (early 5th century BC). To Leucippus, “the void” is the opposite of Being. In other words, the void is not-Being.

It should also be quickly noted here that, historically, many scientists believed that (empty) space is not “nothing”. Instead, they deemed it to be some kind of receptacle in which “material objects can be placed”.

Relatedly, scientists have also been much obsessed by the vacuum (or by vacuums-in-the-plural).

Yet a vacuum (like the void) was always something very different from Nothing…

Or was it?

It depends…

It depends on what the words “nothing” and “vacuum” are taken to mean in different contexts. It also depends on how these words are actually used.

This problem is captured in the following passage about a related issue:

“This is somewhat reminiscent of early philosophical plenum ideas, and means that vacuum and nothing are certainly not synonyms.”

The word “vacuum” isn’t an acceptable synonym of the word “nothing” simply because there’s no fixed (or universal) definition of that latter word in the first place. And now we must also go all ontological and say that the nature of Nothing has been disputed for over two thousand years.

Parmenides on Nothing

It’s best to start with the following philosophical position:

In order to refer to something, then that something must exist in some way.

The Greek philosopher Parmenides (5th century BC) based his philosophy of Nothingness primarily on such a basic position.

Parmenides argued that there can be no such thing as nothing for the simple reason that to name it means that it must exist. And Nothing (unlike a stone or a person), he believed, can’t exist.

John D. Barrow

John Barrow picked up on this when he wrote the following words:

[Parmenides] maintained that you can only speak about what is: what is not cannot be thought of, and what cannot be thought of cannot be.”

Light-heartedly, and to rely on Barrow again, if Parmenides was right, then what about the following limerick by William Hughes Mearns? -

“As I was going up the stair, 
I met man who wasn’t there. 
He wasn’t there again today, 
I wish, I wish he’d stay away.”

Less light-heartedly, what about this statement? —

Superman is sexy!

Or this one? —

God does not exist.

It seems obvious that we can refer to things which no longer exist. Indeed, we can even refer to things which never existed.

Sure, perhaps we can’t refer in any ordinary way… That’s if there is an ordinary way of referring.

So perhaps existence must be replaced by some kind of (capitalised) Being.

[The distinction between being and existence has been rejected by many philosophers. See ‘Being and Existence’.]

That said, in the cases of “Superman is sexy!” and other statements, neither existence nor Being are claimed in any direct way.

So what about the word “nothing”?…

Or what about Nothing itself?

According to this logic (or perhaps not), if we speak of “nothing”, then surely nothing must be… something. After all, we’ve named Nothing. Therefore it must exist (or have Being) as a… something.

Alternatively put, I’ve used the word “nothing”. Therefore Nothing (not the word “nothing”) must exist (or have Being).

Let’s now go into more detail on Parmenides and his arguments.

Parmenides’s Argument

Parmenides’ own positions are more convincing than they may at first seem.

In his scheme, not only is Nothing rejected, so too is the existence of historical facts or history itself.

The possibility of change is similarly rejected.

The following are three of his basic positions (i.e., it’s not an argument as such) on Nothing:

1) Nothing doesn’t exist.
2) To speak of a thing, is to speak of a thing which exists.
3) When one speaks of Nothing, one speaks of it as if it is something which exists.

Yet surely, in statements (1) to (3), Nothing has been spoken of (it has been named). Therefore, by Parmenides’s own light, surely either Nothing must exist, or he had no right to speak of it.

What about the events in the past or the past itself?

Parmenides’s position is very similar:

i) If we can’t speak of (or name) Nothing,
ii) then we can’t speak of (or name) the things or events of the past either.
iii) That’s because such events (or things) don’t exist.
iv) Therefore, when we refer to them, we’re referring to Nothing.

Here again there are references to Nothing, which Parmenides warned us against.

What about change, which Parmenides similarly rejected?

His rejection of change is strongly connected to his rejection of the past. The argument is as follows:

ia) If the past doesn’t exist,
ib) then only the present exists.
iia) Yet if only the present exists,
iib) then there can be no change from past to present, or from present to future.
iii) Therefore, there can be no change at all.

I’m not entirely sure if I’ve done justice to Parmenides in the formulations above. Alternatively, perhaps there’s a problem with the arguments themselves.

[It’s hard to find Parmenides’s actual words, rather than writers and historians telling their readers what Parmenides believed.]

Firstly, i) (“The past doesn’t exist”) is taken to true with proof, argument, evidence, etc. That said, most arguments must — and do — begin with unargued-for premises. Perhaps this is an example of that.

And there’s also the problem with the word “exist”. It’s never defined. Its meaning is simply assumed.

In any case, it seems that Parmenides’ position was resurrected — if in a modified and grammatical (or linguistic) form — in the 20th century by Bertrand Russell.

Russell and Quine on Nothing

In his 1918 paper ‘Existence and Description’, Bertrand Russell argued that in order for names to be names, then they must name — or refer to — things which exist.

So now take this passage:

“The fact that you can discuss the proposition ‘God exists’ is a proof that ‘God’, as used in that proposition, is a description not a name. If ‘God’ were a name, no question as to existence could arise.”

That passage delivers a position that’s fairly similar to Parmenides’s own position. Russell’s argument, however, is different in that it’s based on language and semantics.

In detail. Russell, at the time, was reacting to the (as Quine once put it) “ontological slums” of the Austrian philosopher Alexius Meinong in which different objects and things were brought into being willy-nilly. (For example, the golden mountain and even the round square.) However, Russell’s semantic philosophy simply seems stipulative (or a normative) in nature. That is, it’s strategically designed to quickly solve various ancient and modern philosophical problems. [Personally, I don’t have much time for Russell’s position of 1918.]

This is where W.V.O. Quine enters the philosophical fray.

Quine had no problem at all with the naming of non-beings or non-existents. (Non-being and non-existence aren’t the same thing.)

In his ‘On What There Is’ of 1948 (some 30 years after Russell’s paper), Quine rejected Russell’s position. However, he put Russell’s position in the mouth of a certain McX, and uses the word ‘Pegasus’ rather than the word ‘God’.

Quine wrote:

“He confused the alleged named object Pegasus with the meaning of the word ‘Pegasus’, therefore concluding that Pegasus must be in order that the word have meaning.”

Put simply. A name can have a “meaning” without it referring to something which exists, or even to something which never existed. Thus, Quine unties meaning from reference, whereas Russell primarily thought in terms of reference. (At the least, Russell tied a name’s meaning to its reference.)

Parmenides, as we’ve seen, made a similar mistake.

He didn’t think that a name could have a meaning without the thing being named also existing (or Being). However, we can speak of something that doesn’t exist because the naming of such an x doesn’t entail or imply its existence. However, and in homage to Meinong (as well as, perhaps, to the philosopher David Lewis), Russell might then have asked us what kind of Being the named object (or thing) has.

Technically, Russell’s theory is an attempt to solve this problem by arguing that if a named x doesn’t exist (or have Being), then that name must be a “disguised description” or denoting phrase. (In the case of the name “Pegasus”, the description would be “the fictional horse which has such and such characteristics”.)

The Logical Positivists on “Meaningless” Statements

In any case, the old logical-positivist way of classifying such sentences (e.g., “God does not exist”) as “meaningless” was way over the top. It was nothing less than Diktat Philosophy. That’s not because there actually is something Deep and Profound about what we call “nothing”, or because God does or does not exist. It’s because the logical positivist’s term “meaningless” is simply the end product of certain philosophical stipulations, rather than end result of arguments alone.

Quine, for one, realised this when he happily accepted that sentences such as “God does not exist” and “The unicorn is angry” are certainly not meaningless — even if God and unicorns don’t exist!

Relatedly, the more obviously extreme “Pink ideas glide in and out of the vacuum” may be a silly sentence, but it’s not meaningless. Thus, the statement “Nothing is the most important subject” (or even Heidegger’s “The nothing nots”) isn’t necessarily meaningless. It may be silly or pretentious, but not meaningless.

Thus, we needn’t class “questions about nothing” as “meaningless” simply because Nothing doesn’t exist… as a thing

That’s if Nothing doesn’t exist as a thing!

Now we can defend Parmenides’s position, as well as Russell’s, by attacking Heidegger’s.

Martin Heidegger on Nothing

Speaking (perhaps) ironically, can mere words bring things into existence?

What about the words “round square” or “the timplebums” bringing a round square or the timplebums into existence… or into Being?

Indeed, what about Chomsky’s well-known statement “Colorless green ideas sleep furiously”?

In any case, Martin Heidegger was perplexed by the fact that we can refer to Nothing.

Was Nothing brought into existence (or into Being) by virtue of people using the word “nothing”?

Heidegger asked, “What about this nothing?”

He also asked:

“The nothing — what else can it be for science but an outrage and a phantasm?”

Heidegger contended that “[s]cience wants to know nothing of the nothing”.

[Note the definite article in the two words “the nothing”. No wonder John D. Barrow capitalised this word.]

According to Heidegger (who was critical of science for many other reasons too), science’s main sin is that it “tries to express its proper essence it calls upon the nothing for help”. That is, science refers to (the) Nothing, yet it “rejects” Nothing.

[One wonders why Heidegger singled out science in this respect. After all, all of us use the word “nothing” and refer to nothing.]

Of course, Heidegger himself doesn’t use the words “refer” and “reference” — as analytic philosophers do. In other words, these terms weren’t found in his technical bag. However, surely when Heidegger asked “What about this nothing?”, he meant… what?

Well, we can refer to anything — even to nothing. That’s unless the word “refer” is taken in some kind of strict philosophical sense, as Bertrand Russell did earlier.

In any case, was Heidegger actually referring to the vacuum?

The Nothing has hardly featured at all in most physics, and not even in speculative physics. However, as we saw at the beginning of this essay, the vacuum has been. Yet the vacuum is actually worlds away from Nothing.

More grammatically:

1) Do we “posit [nothing’s] being” when we use the word “nothing”?
2) Do we simply use the word “nothing” because it is useful in certain — indeed, in many — contexts?

What did Heidegger think? This:

“With regard to the nothing, question and answer alike are absurd.”

Again, it must be assumed that Heidegger meant “vacuum”.

Now for Graham Priest.

Priest’s position seems similar to Heidegger’s. This is hardly surprising since Priest is a fan of Heidegger, and he refers to him a fair few times in his papers, articles and books.

Graham Priest on Nothing

The Australian philosopher of logic Graham Priest (like Martin Heidegger) appears to believe (if only when viewed critically) that words creates objects

Of course, he doesn’t actually make that claim.

So in Priest’s own words:

“An object is anything you can refer to with a noun phrase, think about, quantify over.”

As with Heidegger earlier, the problem here is that the readers of this essay can make up new “noun phrase[s]” on the spot.

So what about these examples (which start with a noun phrase)? — “The Something does”, “The bastules blinge”.

Thus, this is a liberal (or pluralist) position on objects in that Priest concludes that

“so there are many objects, like Marcus, like Bond, like the City University of New York, like the Sun and so on all these things you can think about you can refer to”.

… As well as objects like Something and bastules.

Indeed, this is a positively Meinongian conclusion. (Apart from the fact that Alexius Meinong never stressed — and possibly even ignored — language.) However, as Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Rudolf Carnap and many others put it (if in their various ways), Priest and Heidegger might well have been “misled by language”.

It must be added here that apart from language, Priest also emphasises quantification. However, this amounts to a very similar thing — quantification too brings objects into existence.

As the American philosopher Hilary Putnam once put it: this is a case of the miraculous “backward E” (i.e., the existential quantifier ∃) doing its thing.

Quantifying Nothing

Graham Priest refers to quantifying over both everything and Nothing. However, he has a position on quantification that appears to be at odds with the common one.

Usually, it’s thought that all acts of quantification have a specific domain in mind. Priest, on the other hand, believes that “it’s okay to use a quantifier with the widest possible scope”. In other words, it’s fine to quantify over literally everything. (This is like a quantificational version of Russell’s universal set.)

Priest offers us a variation on the Parmenidean theme (discussed earlier) by arguing for the following:

i) If we “quantify over” any given x,
ii) then that x must be an “object” of some kind.

According to Priest, we also refer to (or quantify over) everything — so that too must be an object.

Yes, Priest says that “everything is an object” — just like Nothing.

It’s then that Priest gets all dialethic by saying that Nothing is “not an object” too.

This means that Priest applies the same logic to Everything as he does to Nothing. The following words will make that clear:

“Everything is the mereological sum of every object [] If everything is the fusion of the sum of all objects, [then] what is nothingness? Nothingness is the sum of everything that isn’t an object because everything is an object. [Nothingness is] the sum of no things. What you get when you fuse together no things is exactly nothingness.”

In Priest ‘s logic, philosophers too have referred to Nothing. So Nothing must be what he calls an object.

Priest himself refers to Ludwig Wittgenstein (who said — remember — that a “whole cloud of philosophy [can be] condensed into a drop of grammar”) and Nagarjuna on this issue. He says that these two thinkers

“tell [] you that something is ineffable; and then [they] explain why it’s ineffable — thereby talking about”.

That is certainly the case with the Tractatus, in which Wittgenstein discussed the “form of the world”. We also had Kant’s many references to noumena. (That’s even though Kant believed that nothing could be known about noumena.) Then again, all this is also true of the words “round square” or “the brick with a sense of humour” — which I’ve just referred to!

To repeat. Priest goes all linguistic or grammatical when he says that “‘nothing’, can also be a noun phrase”. Basically, that’s because we can and do talk about it.

More specifically, Hegel and Heidegger talked a lot about Nothing. As Priest puts it, “[w]e may say that Hegel and Heidegger both wrote about nothing”.

Moreover, “nothing” is “not [always] a quantifier phrase”. In other words, this story isn’t all about counting or quantifying. It’s also about a thing — or an object.

One other way in which we can talk about Nothing is to note that “[w]e can say that [Hegel and Heidegger] said different things about it”. In addition, Christianity talks about Nothing in that (so Priest tells us) “the Abrahamic God is supposed to have created the world” out of Nothing.

So we can see that Priest is fully committed to Plato’s Beard in that (rhetorically or not) human sayings and writings bring objects into existence.


Note

(1) Some of the quoted words and passages from Graham Priest are taken from the ‘Everything and Nothing’ seminar — a Robert Curtius Lecture of Excellence at Bonn University — which Priest gave in 2017. I relied on both the transcript and the video itself. However, I’ve edited a lot of what Priest says in that seminar to make it more comprehensible. For example, I removed many of the uses of the word “so”, added full stops, commas and suchlike. Hopefully, the philosophical content is kept intact. None of this applicable to the words and passages I quote which come from Priest’s papers and books.



Sunday, 10 March 2024

Albert Einstein as Serial Killer and Misogynist: One Context of Discovery

 (i) Introduction

(ii) Sokal’s Sex Life and Kripke’s Schooldays
(iii) Robert P. Crease on the Envy, Rivalry and Anger of Scientists
(iv) Paul Davies on Newton’s Religious Context of Discovery
(v) Rupert Sheldrake Against the Context-of-Discovery Distinction
(vi) Slavoj Žižek Against the Context-of-Discovery Distinction

Many readers will have noticed the numerous social-media memes which have Albert Einstein’s words embedded within them. Relevantly, most of these memes aren’t actually about his scientific theories and views, or even about science itself. Instead, most of them are posted to defend the view that Einstein was religious, or spiritual, or a socialist, or this, or that, or the other. Other memes concentrate on Einstein's private life.

More particularly, the users of Facebook and social media generally might also have also noted how often spiritual idealists (see here) and New Agers quote a handful of passages from German and Austrian physicists which were mainly spoken (or written) in the first three decades of the 20th century. The relevant point is that these much-quoted scientists rarely made an effort to tie their non-scientific views to their actual physical (i.e., technical) theories. What’s more, these physicists hardy referred to “Eastern thought” and spiritual stuff in the first place. Hence, the very-few passages which spiritual commentators, New Agers, etc. quote and embed in their memes.

Erwin Schrödinger is a good example of all this.

He actually went out of his way to disconnect his interest in (loosely called) Eastern religion from his actual technical physics. [See note 1.]

New Agers, on the other hand, do the opposite of this.

Such people go out of their way to connect — specifically — quantum physics to their prior spiritual beliefs.

So are all these (as it’s put in philosophy) contexts of discovery important to the scientific theories of particular scientists?

Indeed, are they contexts of discovery at all?

Sokal’s Sex Life and Kripke’s Schooldays

Jean Bricmont and Alan Sokal

In extreme terms, it doesn’t matter if the scientist discussed (or memed) was also, say, a serial killer, a Nazi, a neoliberal, a narcissist, etc. In Einstein’s particular case, it doesn’t matter that he was (according to Metro newspaper) a “misogynist” and “neanderthal”.

Yet, to take just one example, the French critic and writer Philippe Sollers was very interested in contexts of discovery. Or at least he was interested in in the sex life and personal psychology of a mathematician and physicist.

Philippe Sollers’ words are to be found in this article.

So now take American mathematician and physicist Alan Sokal and the physicist and philosopher Jean Bricmont and their words (from the book Intellectual Impostures) on Philippe Sollers’ words (see image above) on… well, Sokal and Bricmont themselves:

[] Philippe Sollers asserts [] that our private lives ‘merit investigation’: ‘What do they like? What paintings do they have on their walls? What are their wives like? How are those beautiful abstract statements translated in their daily and sexual lives?’
“Well! Let’s concede once and for all that we are arrogant, mediocre, sexually frustrated scientists, ignorant in philosophy and enslaved by a scientistic ideology (neoconservative or hard-line Marxist, take your pick).”

In any case, how did Alan Sokal react to Philippe Sollers’ words?

In the following way:

“But please tell us what this implies concerning the validity or invalidity of our arguments."

All that said, popular-science writers often become very fixated on biographical detail. Perhaps they do so for two related — as well as obvious - reasons:

(1) To popularise science and scientists 
(2) To help sell their books.

Let’s now take a rather less sexy context of discovery.

Saul Kripke

The American philosopher and logician Saul Kripke was once honest enough to admit (in this video) that his initial interest in Ludwig Wittgenstein was solely down to who taught him at university when he was a student. (He mentions “three faculty members” particularly.) Of course, alongside the fact that his teachers had an interest in Wittgenstein (specifically the “late Wittgenstein” of the Philosophical Investigations) would have been the fact that Kripke actually developed an independent interest in what Wittgenstein wrote. Having said that, Kripke also confesses that he didn’t at first see the importance of Wittgenstein or his Philosophical Investigations. Indeed, he didn’t “develop [his] own take on what [Wittgenstein] was doing until 1962 and 1963”…

Then again, Kripke was still only 22 in 1962…

But who cares about all this biographical detail!

Well, a lot of people do.

Indeed, there’s nothing wrong with that.

The question is what relevance does it have to Kripke’s actual philosophical ideas in, say, logic, metaphysics, philosophy of mind, etc?

The context of Kripke’s discovery of Wittgenstein, in this case, will have no interest at all to those strict philosophers who’re solely interested in the context of justifying Kripke’s analysis of Wittgenstein.

Thus, if biography and context are really so important when it comes to Sokal’s arguments (or to the scientific theories of scientists), then take the following letter (see here) which Einstein wrote to his wife in 1919? —

“You will make sure:
– that my clothes and laundry are kept in good order;
– that I will receive my three meals regularly in my room;
– that my bedroom and study are kept neat, and especially that my desk is left for my use only.
“You will renounce all personal relations with me insofar as they are not completely necessary for social reasons. Specifically, You will forego:
– my sitting at home with you;
– my going out or travelling with you.
“You will obey the following points in your relations with me:
– you will not expect any intimacy from me, nor will you reproach me in any way;
– you will stop talking to me if I request it;
– you will leave my bedroom or study immediately without protest if I request it.
“You will undertake not to belittle me in front of our children, either through words or behaviour.”

Have these words ever appeared in any social-media memes?

That said, Einstein’s letter to his wife (of the time) has indeed been tackled by journalists, and by some science writers too.

The point here is that if contexts of discovery can be used in positive ways, then they can be used in negative ways too.

More relevantly, if positive contexts of discovery can be tied to actual scientific theories and ideas, then so too can negative ones.

So can we pick and choose contexts of discovery according to taste?

Now let’s just pretend that Einstein was a serial killer, or a neanderthal, or a misogynist — or perhaps all three at once.

How would, say, the historian of science and philosopher Robert P. Crease deal with these possibilities?

Robert P. Crease on the Envy, Rivalry and Anger of Scientists

Robert Crease isn’t just interested in contexts of discovery: he actually ties the scientific theories of physicists to their (as it were) extra-curricular activities and beliefs…

Or at least he seems to!

Crease believes such that such scientific theories actually embody aspects of the (as it were) biographical detail of the scientists who created them.

Robert P. Crease

So take this passage from Crease:

[I]n Einstein [] we can see glimpses of what lies beyond the standard model: an account of science in which character and personal feeling are not marginal to the scientific process, not a prelude to a person’s scientific labours, but what sustains them and carried them forward.”

Of course it can still be asked if Crease is actually arguing that all this “character and personal feeling” is somehow embodied in scientists’ scientific theories.

So if it is, then how is it so?

What’s more, what is Crease actually pitting himself against?

Crease is pitting himself against what he (ironically) calls “the standard model [of] [m]ost histories of science”. Crease writes:

“It emphasises the collective and impersonal dimension, and downplays the experiences of specific individuals. The principle structural ingredients are discoveries, instruments, measurements, and theories.”

Is this true?

Do historians really “downplay[] the experiences of specific individuals”?

Not in the cases I’ve read.

Indeed, if we move away from historians of science, popular-science writers certainly don’t!

So perhaps that’s the very distinction Crease is making: the distinction between historians of science and popular-science writers. (Crease has himself written such a popular-science book — the one these quotes come from.)

Moreover, even if what Crease says about historians of science is true, then what are we to make of all these experiences of specific individuals from a scientific point of view?

Of course, much — very much ! — has been made of them from all sorts of other points of view.

However, what relevance do the specific experiences of specific scientists have to their specific scientific theories and ideas?

In more detail, Crease also tells us that

[e]nvy, rivalry, anger, disbelief, conviction, stress, hope, despair, dejection — all can be found in the documents”.

Has any historian of science argued that scientists don’t experience envy, rivalry, anger, disbelief, conviction, stress, hope, despair, rejection? Has any scientist himself ever argued this about his fellow scientists?

Like the physicist and popular-science writer Paul Davies (to be discussed in a moment), Robert Crease believes that all of this experience becomes embodied in the actual scientific theories of scientists…

Or at least I think that’s what he believes.

As already stated, it’s hard to see what Crease is getting at otherwise.

In any case, Paul Davies certainly does believe this.

Paul Davies on Newton’s Religious Contexts of Discovery

The popular-science writer and physicist Paul Davies goes much further too.

For example, Davies is keen to stress Isaac Newton’s religious beliefs, and how they influenced (or even determined) his actual physics. (See Davies’s ‘Taking Science on Faith’ for the New York Times.)

Thus, if this is true (in this case at least), then the context of discovery can’t be separated from from the context of justification at all. That’s because Davies is making a direct link between Newton’s scientific theories and his religious beliefs.

On the other hand, if that link between contexts of discovery and actual scientific theories isn’t there, then (at its crudest) it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to Newton’s scientific theories and ideas whether he too was a serial killer, or believed in pink goblins, or was a Christian fundamentalist, or that he stole all his ideas from Leibniz.

Of course, much has also been made of Newton’s (as it were) religious credentials by other people.

For example, spiritual-but-not-religious people and New-Agers have made much of Newton’s alchemy, Biblical prophesies, chronologies, fixation with numbers, interpretations of the Bible, and his takes on the philosopher’s stone and sacred geometry.

What’s more, their biographical and historical detail about Newton may well be largely correct!

Rupert Sheldrake Against the Distinction

Say that Einstein was a serial killer or a misogynist.

Many scientists (as it were) get around all this with the distinction they make between science itself and (flesh and blood) scientists.

Philosophers attempt a similar job with their own distinction between the context of discovery and the context of justification.

However, some critics of science (e.g., postmodernists, poststructuralists, religious and spiritual people, some Marxists, psychoanalysts, Jungians, etc.) have argued that this distinction is a phoney. And it’s phoney largely because they see it as an idealisation and a simplification.

Take the related case of the scientist, writer and parapsychology researcher Rupert Sheldrake.

It can be assumed that Sheldrake will be aware of this context-of-discovery/context-of-justification distinction. However, it can also be assumed that he doesn’t really buy it — at least not unquestioningly. (I doubt that anyone accepts it unquestioningly. I don’t.)

Take the following passage:

“To this day, scientists pretend that they are rather like disembodied minds. Unlike other human activities, science is supposed to be uniquely objective. Scientific papers are conventionally written in an impersonal style, seemingly devoid of emotions. Conclusions are meant to follow from facts by a logical process of reasoning, such as that which might be followed by a computer, if machines with sufficient artificial intelligence could ever be constructed. Nobody is ever seen doing anything, methods are followed, phenomena observed, and measurements are made, preferably with instruments. Everything is reported in the passive voice. Even schoolchildren learn this style, and practise it in their laboratory notebooks: ‘a test tube was taken…’
“All research scientists know that this process is artificial; they are not disembodied minds, uninfluenced by emotion.”

So what if scientists did believe that they have “disembodied minds”? Where would that lead us? Would it impact on the attitude we have to their actual scientific theories, and to science generally?

Moreover, do any of Sheldrake’s psychological analyses of scientists (even if genuinely insightful) matter? (Readers may now ask: Matter to whom? Matter in which respects?)

In any case, isn’t this simply Sheldrake’s biased interpretation of what scientists believe? Indeed, even if (most? many? some?) scientists do believe that they have a monopoly on what people call “the objective facts”, then that still wouldn’t entail a commitment to believing that their minds need to be disembodied in order to access those objective facts.

The philosopher Zizek (who uses the words “objective truth-values”) is also against the distinction. However, he never actually uses the technical terms “context of discovery” and “context of justification”.

Slavoj Žižek Against the Distinction

Firstly, Žižek tells us that the “standard distinction” is between

“the social or psychological conditions of a scientific invention and its objective truth-value”.

Žižek has a problem with this division (or distinction).

He continues:

“The least one can say about it is that the very distinction between the (empirical, contingent sociopsychological) genesis of a certain scientific formation and its objective truth-value, independent of the conditions of this genesis, already presupposes a set of distinctions (between genesis and truth-value, etc.) which are by no means self-evident.”

Let’s firstly comment on certain terms which Žižek uses, and which are questionable.

Take his words “objective truth-value”.

Surely one can make a distinction between the context of discovery (or Žižek’s “genesis”) and the context of justification, and still not have a strong (or even any) commitment to objective truth-values.

For one, what does “objective” even mean in this context?

The words “scientific invention” also (to use Žižek’s own words) “presuppose[] a set of distinctions” which Žižek himself is making. In this case, he appears to believe that scientific theories (or even experimental findings) are little (or even nothing) more than inventions.

Of course, “invention” is a loaded term. Nonetheless, Žižek is on fairly strong ground here because some quantum theorists (who’re also physicists) stress this.

Take “quantum Bayesianism” (Qbism) and the position of Christopher Fuchs.

Fuchs believes that “quantum states represent observers’ personal information, expectations and degrees of belief”. More relevantly, Fuchs believes that this

“allows one to see all quantum measurements events as little ‘moments of creation’, rather than as revealing anything pre-existent”.

Now what could be more (as it were) constructionist, and, more relevantly, biographical than stressing (scientific) “moments of creation”?


Note:

(1) See Walter Moore’s excellent biography: Schrödinger: Life and Thought. Moore goes into much detail on Schrödinger’s interest in Schopenhauer, Vedanta, etc.