Uncommon Descent


27 December 2011

No Darwinists around Dinner Tables

James Barham

They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I don’t know about that, but I believe I have discovered a related law of nature: There are no Darwinists around dinner tables.

I made this discovery when I observed a curious phenomenon. Some of the responses to my critiques of Darwininian reductionism in this space were taking the form of denying that Darwinists are indeed reductionists. In other words, I am accused of attacking straw men.

But Darwinism as a worldview is so obviously all about reductionism, that I was at a loss to account for this line of counterattack. Mind you, I am not complaining about the counterattacks as such. I haven’t been pulling my punches, either, and what’s sauce for the goose is sause for the gander.

Rather, I am trying to wrap my mind around the claim by some Darwinists that to charge them with reductionism is to caricature their position.

Then, it occurred to me that the solution to this conundrum is quite simple. There are Darwinists in the study, and Darwinists in the lecture hall, but there are no Darwinists in the parlor, and no Darwinists around dinner tables.

What do I mean by that? Just that it may be possible to say the things associated with the Darwinian philosophy—that people are “lumbering robots” controlled by their “selfish genes,” that free will, purpose, value, and meaning are “illusions,” and all the rest of it. And it may even be possible to believe these things, on some level.

However, it is not possible to for anyone to actually live in accordance with these preposterous ideas. Therefore, when Darwinists consort with other people—in the parlor, as it were, or around the dinner table—they perforce interact with them as any ordinary person would.

Thus, in everyday life, Darwinists spontaneously treat other human beings as though they had free will. They look upon them as if they had purposes and intentions. They understand them and interact with them on the tacit undersanding that some things are more valuable than others. And they converse with them exactly as if they understood them and expected to be understood by them in turn. Even though none of these things is really true, of course.

In short, no one can live according to Darwinian precepts. But to claim to believe in them, while acting as though you did not, is to involve yourself in what philosophers call a “performative contradiction.” What is that?

If I told you I was a solipsist and believed that the world was nothing but my mental projection, and then proceeded to look both ways before I crossed the street, you might accuse me of contradicting myself. And so I would. But note that the contradiction in question would not be strictly logical in nature, because I could always argue that even if I got run over by a truck, it was still all just occurring in my own mind. In that case, my worldview would be internally consistent, but there would be a mismatch between what I said and what I did.(1)

Similarly, the Darwinist is someone who claims that natural selection provides the fundamental explanation for all biological traits that give the appearance of having a purpose. The phenomena of value and meaning are closely related to purpose, and they too are supposed to be accounted for mechanistically by the theory. Moreover, the theory presupposes that most of our traits—including our behavior—are determined by our genes. Otherwise, natural selection has nothing to work with. So, free will, too, is a myth. If the Darwinist wishes to be logically consistent, then, he must claim that free will, purpose, value, and meaning do not really exist, but only give the illusion or appearance of existing.

In short, the theory of natural selection—together with physics, chemistry, and molecular biology—purports to explain the way the world is in reality. And the natural sciences clearly make no mention of free will, purpose, value, or meaning. The latter phenomena do not appear on the inventory compiled by scientists of the things that exist. Therefore, free will, purpose, value, and meaning do not exist. So goes Darwinian reasoning.

Is the picture I am painting here that of a straw man? I don’t think so. Take, for example, a popular made-for-TV film, named for Daniel Dennett’s well-known book, Darwin’s Dangerous Idea: Evolution and the Meanings of Life (Simon & Schuster, 1995), which is pretty explicit about all of this. Near the beginning of this film, which was first shown on PBS a decade ago, Dennett says:

If I were to give a prize for the single best idea anybody ever had, I’d give it to Darwin for the idea of natural selection—ahead of Newton, ahead of Einstein—because his idea unites the two most disparate features of our universe, the world of purposeless, meaningless matter in motion, on the one side, and the world of purpose and meaning and design, on the other. He understood that what he was proposing was a truly revolutionary idea.

Further along, a scientist informs the audience:

Darwin was convinced that traits were passed on from generation to generation but he didn’t understand how.  We now know that the sequence of the four chemical building blocks of DNA determines the traits of all living things. Each generation passes on this text of As, Ts, Cs, and Gs to its offspring. But occasional mistakes in copyingmutations—can result in new traits. [emphasis added]

So, I am not just making this stuff up.

Perhaps it is true that most bench scientists don’t think much about these issues, and that’s fine. That’s not their job. But Darwinists who don’t think about the philosophical implications of their work should not go around making grandiose claims about having uncovered the truth about human nature.

And those Darwinists who do think about the implications of their theory for our understanding of human nature, and who do make grandiose claims about there being genes for this or that behavior, “selected for” for this or that reason—they ought to be prepared to take the heat for those claims.

A few of them—mainly philosophers—are indeed happy to take the heat.(2) They say that natural selection solves all problems, that Darwin was the greatest thinker of all time, and so forth, and they do not shy from following their train of reasoning to its logical conclusion: If we are the puppets of our genes, then free will, purpose, value, and meaning must be illusions. They say this in so many words in their writings, and no doubt would be happy to tell you the same thing around the dinner table.

But even they, I suspect, could not help conducting themselves at the dinner table as though they didn’t believe a single word of what they were saying. Which “as though,” then, are we to credit: the one contained in what they say or the one reflected by what they do?

What would I have Darwinists say around the dinner table?

Well, you’ve probably heard the old joke about what two behaviorists say to each other after sex: “I can see it was good for you; how was it for me?”

Darwinists could begin by trying to be as honest as that.

Maybe the next time the true-blue Darwinist is out on a date, he might try out this line: “Your perfect facial symmetry indicates good child-bearing potential, which is causing my oxytocin levels to shoot through the roof. My selfish genes would like to mate with you.”

If he did that, then I guess I would have no grounds for complaint. But if he tells her she’s beautiful, or that she’s nice, or that she’s funny, or even that he likes her—if he says or does anything that presupposes the actual existence of purpose, value, meaning, and free will—then he is involved in a performative contradiction, and I need not take him seriously.

_____________________
(1) One might raise the objection that in such a case my actions would reveal my real beliefs better than my words, but that would lead us too far astray, and in any case would only give further support to my position.
(2) Alex Rosenberg, The Atheist’s Guide to Reality (W.W. Norton, 2011); Paul Sheldon Davies, Subjects of the World (University of Chicago Press, 2009).

 

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6 Responses

1

thelyamhound

12/28/2011

6:46 pm

I think what gives the appearance that you’re attacking strawmen is the lack of a useful definition of “Darwinist.” Does it apply to anyone who does believe in evolution, but not in either deity or pneuma? If so, then the accusation has some basis. If, on the other hand, you’re only referring to those who believe that methodological naturalism is the only correct or useful way of observing, and that philosophical naturalism is the only rationally defensible position, then I would agree with you . . . but then, you’d only be talking about a very narrow (if vocal) portion of those individuals who believe, generally, in evolution.

This notion of performative contradiction actually illustrates the limitation of Western thinking in general, on both the atheistic and theistic (or fellow traveling) side. To Buddhists and Taoists, free will is real to precisely the same degree as the self (and, by extension, the world in which it lives) is real, which is not very far in reality, but infinitely in terms of function. In scientific terms (for science is nothing but a naturalistic method for observing natural phenomena), one could say that I’m part of a chain of physical and chemical processes that lead me to behave in a certain fashion; in poetic terms (for poetry is nothing but the subjective, linguistic method for describing phenomena in non-naturalistic terms), one could call this destiny. But if we extrapolate further along poetic lines, we could suggest that even destiny relies on my choices. If my choices are pre-determined, part of that pre-determination is that I make them, to the best of my ability and with all information and tools at my disposal. That is, if all is cause & effect (and to the Nichiren Buddhist, it is), then I can attempt, at all times, to make the causes that lead to the desired effects (and not just for me as an individual organism, since that is ephemeral and illusory, but for the whole, since it is into that whole that I will be absorbed upon extinction). Now, I’d say that I don’t have much choice as to what effects I see as desirable; we can’t decide what we want or believe so much as we can decide whether or not we will pursue what we want, and how (or if) we will live our lives according to belief.

In that sense, I look at my wife’s generosity and empathy, and see that it is a function of her choices. Even if she was physically and chemically driven to make those choices (and I cannot claim to know one way or another), and I was physically and chemically driven to find those choices appealing–indeed, even if what we do in light of these predisposition has been foreordained, or simply could not happen another way–the superficial appearance of will and individuation has functional use; it drives me toward good cause. It has managed to make me a better husband, a better son, a better artist, a better teacher, a better philanthropist, and so on. It lead me to Buddhism, through which I have done greater works than I ever managed as a Catholic (to say nothing of my years of questioning after coming to question my faith in [G/g]od[s] and exploring other metaphysical principles, including “none”).

I don’t think that “good” and “beauty” exist in nature; nature provides only quantities, on which we project value according to preferences (some individual, most arising out of, if not consensus, at least mutual agreement of some sort with other organisms who share enough with us–language certainly among the attributes–to engage in contracts). But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think they serve a natural function, or that their poetic function isn’t equally worthy. I am, after all, not a scientist; I am, indeed, an artist–an abstractionist by trade and inclination. If I thought that poetry and meditation and theater and music and philosophy were somehow inferior to mechanistic analysis and methodological naturalism, I probably picked the wrong field.


2

jbarham

12/28/2011

11:22 pm

Darwin did not invent the idea of evolution, so “Darwinism” cannot mean “someone who believes in evolution.” Rather, it must mean what I said in the post: someone who believes natural selection explains (and reduces) the apparent purpose in most features of organisms.

Free will means acting for reasons, not just as the result of a chain of physical causes.

You say you don’t think “good” and “beauty” exist in nature. But you presumably agree that you exist in nature. So, if they are part of you, they are part of nature.


3

thelyamhound

12/29/2011

5:41 pm

Almost no evolutionary theorists agree entirely with Darwin (who was, by all accounts, not even an atheist, and therefore not likely to have been the reductionist you seem anxiously certain that he was), yet nearly all are called “Darwinists” when the time comes to speak derisively of them. Whether or not some theory or other of evolution arose prior to Darwin, the notion of natural selection can be traced to him, and if one believes that natural selection is responsible, in general (not necessarily in totality), for the features of organisms . . . well, now it just feels like we’re dancing around the dictionary (and not even a legitimate one, but rather, the divisive wordplay of highly partisan and malleably socio-cultural semantic chicanery).

Your definition of free will is pretty much what I’m supposing, so I repeat: We have the appearance of free will. That appearance may or may not be deceptive. I have free will in that I act for reasons; the deception may lie in the very real possibility that my “reasons” are nothing more than part of a chain of physical causes. This is not strictly a reductionist or even atheistic view; it’s fully consistent with pantheism, panpsychism, or even panentheism of Eastern and Western varieties.

I’m not sure I DO agree that I exist in nature; the “I” is certainly ephemeral, and possibly illusory. Even granting, arguendo, that the individual self is a natural occurrence, I would say less that “good” and “beauty” exist in me than that the capacity to prefer any qualitatively, morally, or aesthetically neutral quantity in nature over another, and to label that preference by referring to that quantity as “good” or “beautiful” to distinguish it from others that I do not see in such a way, appears to be a part of my natural function.

If we want to foist more semantic chicanery upon such, we can suggest that this means, yes, that “good” and “beauty” exist in nature because a natural organism can find natural phenomena “good” and “beautiful.” What I’m getting at, though, is that they don’t exist in any objective state–that what is good and beautiful for me might well not be good or beautiful for you, though I would imagine that we would find some common ground due to cultural parameters.


4

jbarham

12/29/2011

11:24 pm

(1) So, let me get this straight. Your position is that, though your “I” exists outside of nature, nevertheless your will is determined because “reasons” are just “causes” in the end? Is that correct? If I have that right, then my position is precisely the converse of yours: Everything about me is part of nature, but there is more to nature than reductionist science currently allows for.

(2) Re: the objectivity of value. I would not, of course, argue that all values are equally objective, in the sense of being equally closely linked to our fundamental nature. But many are, and that’s all I need for my purpose (which is to find a natural ground for value, as a metaphysical category). In other words, while “red means stop” and “green means go” are obviously dependent upon cultural conventions, “sweet means eat” and “bitter means spit out” are not so dependent. Rather, the latter are objective facts about the way all human beings (indeed most higher animals) are constituted. Would you agree? Or would you argue that the fact that most of us prefer to eat honey than drink bile is a mere convention, like stopping at a red light?


5

thelyamhound

12/30/2011

7:21 pm

What I mean is less that “I” exist outside of nature than that “I” might well not exist at all; that is, there is a gathering of properties and components that are reflective of the whole, but my very assignation of a person, an individual self, to that confluence is, itself, just another property. I am a microcosm of the universe; then again, so is an amoeba or a rock . . . and indeed, the notion that I am separate from–let alone “superior” to–the amoeba or the rock amounts to a presupposition, and not, in my view, a particularly well-justified one. There are “reasons” why I function according to classification–human, individual, male, Buddhist, American, Celt, actor, husband–but those reasons probably amount to causes, at least in the sense that, in the end, that part of me which possesses will and self-awareness is more likely than not to be extinguished (hopefully in a good number of years, but potentially at any time).

I would say that “sweet means eat” and “bitter means spit out” IS reliant on convention, or, more accurately, on circumstance; after all, kale, one of the healthiest foods in nature, is fairly bitter. On the other hand, yes, the human palate will tend to avoid bile. That’s still conditional, though–not on culture, but on species. I can all but guarantee there’s something out there that eats bile. So this preference is a function of evolution, of adaptation to a certain way of being.

On the other hand (not sure how many hands that even makes), I think we might be back to a semantic disagreement. “Your facial symmetry stimulates my oxytocin, and your grasp of language and social nuance indicates strong proclivity for the maintenance of social status” and “You’re gorgeous and charming, and it would please me to no end to spend time in your company” are not different statements; one who believes that attraction and beauty are most objectively described in the former terms is not engaged in a “performative contradiction”; he is expressing the same observation in terms that either better describe his subjective state (which is as experientially valid as the objective one) or better please the listener (which is likelier to further his goals)–more than likely both.

Again, it seems like we’re chasing another false binary, making a “but” where a more enlightened mind would perceive an “and”.


6

thelyamhound

12/30/2011

7:29 pm

Lest my last sentence be taken in a snarkier spirit than the one in which it was intended, I want to say that there was no dig in there. I think all of us–myself included (especially?)–would do well to spend less time worrying about who’s right, who’s wrong, or who’s a “fellow traveler,” and more time firming up the understanding that serves us best in whatever sphere allows us to best serve our fellows.