Maverick Philosopher

Interviewees, including the scientist Richard Sternberg, claim that questioning Darwinism led to their expulsion from the scientific fold (the film relies extensively on the post hoc, ergo propter hoc fallacy — after this, therefore because of this). . . .

First of all, she got the story wrong. What Dr. Sternberg did was not "question Darwinism" -- whatever that means -- but allow a paper to be published whose author, Stephen Meyer, suggests that at the basis of taxa there might be intelligent design:

Darwin set forth phylogeny (common descent with random modification) as being the basis for the discipline of systematics (understanding the interrelationships of taxa). In other words, according to Darwin and most subsequent biologists, taxa at all taxonomic ranks (phyla, classes, orders, families, genera, species) can only be understood as historical accidents, the unplanned product of random variation and selection. Evolutionary theory, then, is the basis of modern systematics. Meyer argues that some kind of deep purpose (which he characterizes as "intelligent design") underlies living systems; if he is right, the whole basis of systematics would be radically altered. Instead of being a historical record of "successful" (surviving) accidents, systematics becomes the study of the putative designer's plans and their interrelationships.

Sternberg's crime, then, was to allow the publication of the above summarized paper after due consultation with colleagues. And for that he paid a high price. Now how does the fallacy of post hoc ergo propter hoc come into this? One commits this fallacy if one, confusing a temporal sequence with a causal sequence, assumes that just because B follows A in time, A is the cause of B. So if someone knowing nothing about the case before us were to jump to the conclusion that the editorial decision caused the retaliation, then he would commit the fallacy. But surely there are causal sequences, and surely there is evidence for causal sequences, and in the case before us there is solid evidence that the editorial decision was a causal factor in the retaliation. So the reviewer's imputation of the film's "extensive" use of the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy is itself fallacious.

The reviewer reminds me of the typical cyberpunk who, having read a few pages of a logic book, sees 'fallacies' everywhere. In logic as elsewhere, "A little learning is a dangerous thing." (A. Pope)

Ruse is drawing a crucial distinction between evolutionary science, narrowly considered -- which need not have any religious or spiritual consequences -- and evolutionism, the secular, atheistic religion he says often accompanies and enfolds Darwinism. Leading evolutionists like Dawkins, Ruse believes, have failed to draw clear distinctions between the two, and have led many to believe that Darwinian science is fatally allied to an arrogant atheism and a hostile caricature of religious belief. [. . .]

[Ruse] honors the truth claims of science and is "a hell of a lot closer" to atheism than to religious belief. But he thinks evolutionists must purge themselves of reflexive anti-religious fervor, and acknowledge at least the potential validity of the classic Augustinian position that science and theology can never directly contradict one another, since science can only consider nature and God, by definition, is outside nature. Without this consciousness, Ruse suggests, evolutionism is in fact a secular religion, a church without Christ. And if that's what it is, what is it doing in biology class? The current Supreme Court, trending ever rightward on questions of religion in public life, may wish to address this question sooner rather than later.

The above formulations leave something to be desired, but two very important points emerge.

1. The first is that evolutionary science must not be confused with evolutionism, a metaphysical position that goes well beyond anything that any natural science can establish. Calling evolutionism an "atheistic religion," however, is a mistake. An atheistic religion is a religion that does not posit a deity. Buddhism is an atheistic religion. Evolutionism, however, is not a religion since it is the rejection of religion. This is not to say that it doesn't have some traits in common with religion. It does, but then so does Communism which is not a religion.

Evolutionism is better described as a species of naturalistic metaphysics. But however we label it, the main point is that it is an 'add on' to natural science proper rather than a position entailed by natural science. To put it another way, natural science is neutral on the question whether reality is exhausted by the natural world. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Both are epistemic possibilities given what we know from natural science.

To illustrate, one of the things we know from natural science is that all terrestrial life has a common ancestry: there is a single 'tree of life' on earth. But this piece of knowledge is logically consistent both with the existence of God (classically conceived) and with the nonexistence of God.

2. The second point follows from the first. If evolutionism is naturalistic metaphysics, rather than natural science, then it no more belongs in the biology classroom than metaphysics does. Consider a parallel case. There are various competing approaches in the philosophy of mathematics: Platonism, nominalism, etc. But the latter do not belong in the mathematics classroom except for the occasional en passant reference. Biologists and mathematicians ought to treat their subject-matters while remaining neutral on the philosophical questions that are beyond their expertise.

I believe that human consciousness is a conjuring trick, designed to fool us into thinking we are in the presence of an inexplicable mystery. Who is the conjuror and why is s/he doing it? The conjuror is natural selection, and the purpose has been to bolster human self-confidence and self-importance—so as to increase the value we each place on our own and others' lives.

If this is right, it provides a simple explanation for why we, as scientists or laymen, find the "hard problem" of consciousness just so hard. Nature has meant it to be hard. Indeed "mysterian" philosophers—from Colin McGinn to the Pope—who bow down before the apparent miracle and declare that it's impossible in principle to understand how consciousness could arise in a material brain, are responding exactly as Nature hoped they would, with shock and awe.

Can I prove it? It's difficult to prove any adaptationist account of why humans experience things the way they do. But here there is an added catch. The Catch-22 is that, just to the extent that Nature has succeeded in putting consciousness beyond the reach of rational explanation, she must have undermined the very possibility of showing that this is what she's done.

But nothing's perfect. There may be a loophole. While it may seem—and even be—impossible for us to explain how a brain process could have the quality of consciousness, it may not be at all impossible to explain how a brain process could (be designed to) give rise to the impression of having this quality. (Consider: we could never explain why 2 + 2 = 5, but we might relatively easily be able to explain why someone should be under the illusion that 2 + 2 = 5).

Do I want to prove it? That's a difficult one. If the belief that consciousness is a mystery is a source of human hope, there may be a real danger that exposing the trick could send us all to hell.

David Chalmers formulates the 'hard problem' as follows: "Why is all this processing accompanied by an experienced inner life?" (The Conscious Mind, Oxford 1996, p. xii.) Essentially, the 'hard problem' is the qualia problem. To explain it in detail would require a separate post. Now Humphrey offers us an explanation of why the 'hard problem' is hard. It is hard because nature or natural selection -- H. uses these terms interchangeably above -- meant it to be hard. Her purpose is to "fool us into thinking we are in the presence of an inexplicable mystery." She wants to fool us in order to "bolster human self-confidence and self-importance." How thoughtful of her. Of course, to say that she is fooling us implies that consciousness is not mysterious but just another natural occurrence.

Not only does Nature fool us into thinking that consciousness is mysterious, when it is not, she also makes it impossible for us to see that this is what she has done. But there may be a loophole: it may be possible to "explain how a brain process could be (designed to) give rise to the impression of having this quality," i.e., the quality of consciousness. By 'impression,' H. means illusion as is clear from his arithmetical example. So what H. is suggesting is that it may be possible to explain how brain processes could give rise to the illusion that there is consciousness, the illusion that brain processes have the quality of consciousness.

But this 'possibility' is a complete absurdity, a complete impossibility. For it is self-evident that illusions presuppose consciousness: an illusion cannot exist without consciousness. The 'cannot' expresses a very strong impossibility, broadly logical impossibility. The Germans have a nice proverb, Soviel Schein, so viel Sein. You can't have Schein without Sein, seeming without being.

The water spied by a parched hiker might be an illusion (a mirage), but it is impossible that consciousness be an illusion. For wherever there is illusion there is consciousness, and indeed the reality of consciousness, not the illusion of consciousness. If you said that the illusion of consciousness is an illusion for a consciousness that is itself an illusion you would be embarked upon a regress that was both infinite and vicious.

In the case of the mirage one can and must distinguish between the seeming and the being. The being (reality) of the mirage consists of heat waves rising from the desert floor, whereas its seeming (appearance) involves a relation to a conscious being who mis-takes the heat waves for water. But conscious states, as Searle and I have been saying ad nauseam, are such that seeming and being, appearance and reality, coincide. For conscious qualia, esse est percipi. Consciousness cannot be an illusion since no sort of wedge can be driven between its appearance and its reality.

A French philosopher might say that consciousness 'recuperates itself' from every attempt to reduce it to the status of an illusion. The French philosopher would be right -- if interpreted in my more sober Anglospheric terms.

It is also important to note how H. freely helps himself to intentional and teleological language, all the while personifying Nature with a capital 'N.' Nature meant the hard problem to be hard, she had a purpose in fooling us. She fooled us. Etc. This is a typical mistake that many naturalists make. They presuppose the validity of the very categories (intentionality, etc.) that their naturalistic schemes would eliminate.

There is no problem with using teleological talk as a sort of shorthand, but eventually it has to be cashed out: it has to be translated into 'mechanistic' talk. They owe us a translation manual as I quoted David Stove as saying here. In the absence of a translation manual, they can be charged with presupposing what they are trying to account for, and what is worse, ascribing meanings and purposes to something that could not possibly have them, namely, Natural Selection personified. What is the point of getting rid of God if you end up importing purposes into Natural Selectionp ersonified, or what is worse, into 'selfish' genes?

So Humphrey's statement is bullshit in the sense of being radically incoherent. It is pseudo-theory in the worst sense. One of the tasks of philosophers is to expose such pseudo-theory which, hiding behind scientific jargon (e.g, 'natural selection'), pretends to be scientific when it is only confused.

According to Searle, only artifacts made by genuine, conscious human artificers have real functions. Airplane wings are really for flying, but eagles' wings are not. If one biologist says they are adaptations for flying and another says they are merely display racks for decorative feathers, there is no sense in which one biologist is closer to the truth. If, on the other hand, we ask the aeronautical engineers whether the airplane wings they designed are for keeping the plane aloft or for displaying the insignia of the airline, they can tell us a brute fact. So Searle ends up denying William Paley's premise: according to Searle, nature does not consist of an unimaginable variety of functioning devices, exhibiting design. Only human artifacts have that honor, and only because (as Locke "showed" us) it takes a Mind to make something with a function!

Dennett's criticism is based on misunderstanding. Searle's point is that nothing has a function except relative to an observer or user or artificer. See here. Thus the wings of an eagle have the function of propelling it through the air only relative to someone who regards them as having that function. A rock has the function of a paper weight only relative to someone who uses the rock as a paper weight. An artifact such as a screwdriver has the function of driving screws only relative to an artificer who designed it and built it for that purpose.

So Searle's claim is not that only artifacts have real functions. Nothing has a real function if 'real' means intrinsic. Searle's claim is that everything that has a function, whether it be an artifact or natural item, has its function only relative to an observer, user, artificer.

John F. Post thinks that Dennett has reduced Searle's view to absurdity with the one-liner: "Airplane wings are really for flying, but eagles' wings are not." But Searle is not saying that eagles' wings are not for flying; he is saying that their being for flying is observer-relative. From the fact that eagles'wings are not for flying intrinsically it does not follow that they are not for flying observer-relatively.

What Searle is saying is that in a world without any observers, users, artificers, things have causes and effects but nothing has a function. (In Aristotelian terms, and adjusting for the differences between Aristotelian and post-Humean conceptions of efficient causality, one can say that in a world without observers there are efficient but no final causes.) But in our world there are observers, users, artificers, and so in our world things do have functions, namely, the functions we assign or impose. Among the things to which we assign functions are both artifacts and natural items. Thus the wings of a bird have the function of propelling the bird through the air in virtue of the fact that we regard them as having that function. Note that they objectively have that function because we objectively regard them as having that function. The imposition of function is not whimsical or arbitrary since it is grounded in values and interests that are not whimsical or arbitrary. Valuing mobility in ourselves, we assign to birds' wings the function of being for mobility. In Searlean parlance, functional ascriptions are epistemically objective but ontologically subjective.

We don't regard the wings as merely display racks for feathers any more than we regard our legs as supports for trousers. We regard our legs as having the function of propelling us over the ground since we value mobility. Like Little Eva, we are into loco-motion. Similarly, we regard the wings of birds as propelling devices for them, engaged as they are in the common project of locomotion. (Nota bene: That my legs propel me over the ground is not because I regard my legs as propelling me over the ground; but that their function is to propel me over the ground derives from my so regarding them. A perhaps clearer example would be the beating of the heart since this is an involuntary process.)

Dennett writes, "If one biologist says they [wings] are adaptations for flying and another says they are merely display racks for decorative feathers, there is no sense in which one biologist is closer to the truth." Now it is unlikely that a competent biologist would make the second assertion since an adaptation is defined as "a property of an organism, whether a structure, a physiological trait, a behavior, or any other attribute, the possession of which favors the individual in the struggle for existence." (E. Mayr, What Evolution Is, p. 149) But the real problem with what Dennett is saying is that he is ignoring what Searle says about epistemic objectivity and ontological subjectivity. Searle could easily say in response to Dennett that it is an epistemically objective fact that wings are adaptations for flying rather than display racks for feathers while also insisting that there are no intrinic functions in nature. In this way, Searle can accommodate what is correct in Dennett's assertion that one of the biologists is closer to the truth.

Note also that, pace Dennett, it is not a brute fact that airplane wings are designed to keep planes aloft. Searle nowhere says this, indeed he implies the opposite. His point, again, is that functions are imposed or assigned. Thus it is not a brute natural fact about an airplane wing that it has the function of keeping the plane aloft, but an observer-relative fact.

Dennett seems bent on misunderstanding Searle. Searle is not saying that artifacts have real or intrinsic functions while natural items do not. He is saying that anything, whether natural or artifactual, that has a function has it relative to an observer, user, or artificer. He is saying that there are no intrinsic functions anywhere, not in nature, and not in anything man-made.

Suppose the object is a screwdriver. Its being a screwdriver is not intrinsic but relational: it is only in relation to an observer or user or fabricator that a screwdriver is a screwdriver. Of course, nothing can be a screwdriver unless it has certain intrinsic properties that fit it to play this functional role: one cannot make a screwdriver out of ice or spaghetti. Not even an Eskimo or an Italian could do it. But the property of being a screwdriver is not intrinsic to the object. It is an observer-relative feature.

The property of being a screwdriver is epistemically objective but ontologically subjective. (p. 10) Thus it is objectively true that the tool in my hand is a screwdriver, but its being a screwdriver necessarily involves a reference to a subject who uses it as such.

Here is a rough-and-ready test to determine whether a property is intrinsic or observer-relative: Could the property exist if there had never been any human beings or other sorts of sentient beings? (p. 11) The property of being a screwdriver could not exist (be instantiated) in a world in which there were no sentient beings. This ought to be obvious. A screwdriver is an artifact designed for the purpose of inserting screws by beings who make plans and have purposes. In a world without such purposive beings there would be no tools of any kind. There might be rocks, ponds, fires, and forests, but no paperweights, swimming holes, heaters, or fuel sources.

2. Searle's point about functions is that they are never intrinsic but always observer-relative. Functions are assigned or imposed by us. A burro (my example) is not intrinsically a beast of burden but is susceptible to having that functional role imposed on it. Or else we fabricate a mechanical 'burro' to suit our purposes.

There are no functions in the natural world: "nature knows nothing of functions." (14). Hearts occur in nature, and it is an observer-independent fact that they cause blood to course through the bodies that house them. But the function of the heart to pump blood is not intrinsic to nature.

One consideration in support of this view is that things in nature cannot be said to either fail or succeed in exercising their function. You cannot say of a piece of metal in nature that it failed or succeeded since there is no job or function that it was supposed to perform. But one can say of a metal rivet that it failed or succeeded. ('The main rivet failed and that triggered a series of events that led to the collapse of the bridge.') Normative talk is now appropriate. Only things having functions can malfunction. Depending on its size and shape and weight, a rock may make a good or bad weapon once we assign it the weapon function. But a rock in nature is neither good nor bad since there is nothing that a rock in nature is FOR. There are no weapons or paperweights or door stops in nature.

As Searle puts it, "functions are never intrinsic to the physics of any phenomenon but are assigned from outside by conscious observers and users." (14) But wasn't the function of the heart, namely, to pump blood, discovered? Now if a function is discovered, how can it be "assigned from the outside"?

Although it is true to say that we discover the functions of organs and the like, "the discovery of a natural function can only take place within a set of prior assignments of value (including purposes, teleeology, and other functions)." (15) The natural facts are exhausted by the causal facts. The functionality of the heart is something we add to the natural facts. So although one does discover how the heart works -- its mechanism -- one does not discover any teleology. Searle:

It is because we take it for granted in biology that life and survival are values that we can discover that the function of the heart is to pump blood. If we thought that the most important value in the world was to glorify God by making thumping noises, then the function of the heart would be to make a thumping noise, and the noisier heart would be the better heart. (15)

Let me see if I can improvise on this riff. Does the penis have a natural purpose/function? If it did, it would have atleast two: to urinate with and to inseminate with. (Reminds me of a crack by the self-styled G-man, G. Gordon Liddy: "If all a man can do with his johnson is pee through it, then he's better off dead.") But since the act of ejaculation (whether or not it leads to insemination) is intensely pleasurable, perhaps a third natural function should be distinguished: the 'joy stick' function. Accordingly, the function of the penis is to afford its possessor a means of intense pleasure and relaxation. Arguably, if there are three natural functions of the penis, then there are no natural functions, and whatever function it has is one we assign given our values and purposes. (One might try to argue this way; I am not endorsing this line.)

I don't know whether this makes Searle's position more intuitive or less, but we have to move on. I have just touched on a host of tricky questions that we should return to.

3. Searle thinks that Darwinism supports his contention that functions are never intrinsic, but always observer-relative:

One of Darwin's greatest achievements was to drive teleology out of the account of the origin of species. On the Darwinian account, evolution occurs by way of blind, brute, natural forces. There is no intrinsic purpose whatever to the origin and survival of biological species. (16)

Searle could draw on the authority of experts like Ernst Mayr who also insist that Darwinian theory results in the expulsion of Aristotelian final causes.

4. It would be interesting to hear how those who rotate around the Dawkins-Dennett axis will respond to these Searlean points.

1. Mayr tells us in the chapter on Natural Selection that "Every species produces vastly more offspring than can survive from generation to generation." (117) Sorry to be such a quibbler, but is this true? 'Every' includes homo s. Does our kind produce vastly more offpsring than can survive from generation to generation?

Then we read: "All the individuals of a population differ genetically from each other. They are exposed to the adversity of the environment, and almost all of them perish or fail to reproduce." (117) Really? Almost all of the members of our species perish or fail to reproduce?

2. There is both artificial and natural selection. In the case of the former,

. . . it is indeed the animal or plant breeder who selects certain superior individuals to serve as the breeding stock of the next generation. But, strictly speaking, there is no such agent involved in natural selection. What Darwin called natural selection is actually a process of elimination. (117)

Refreshingly clear. Natural selection is just elimination. There is nothing or no one who selects -- unlike the case of artificial selection. There is no agent of natural selection with a conscious or unconscious purpose for selecting this trait or that to be passed on.

The progenitors of the next generation are those individuals among their parents' offspring who survived owing to luck or the possession of characteristics that made them particularly well adapted for the prevailing environmental conditions. All their siblings were eliminated by the process of natural selection. (ibid.)

Since natural selection just is a process of elimination, what Mayr said boils down to this: all their siblings were eliminated by a process of elimination. There is "survival of the fittest." (118)

Mayr appears to be saying that selection is not something over and above elimination. After raising the question of whether selection and elimination differ in their evolutionry consequences, he writes: "A process of selection would have a concrete objective, the determination of the 'best' or 'fittest' phenotype." (118) Now a concrete objective would be a purpose or goal or telos, and as we shall see in a moment, selection for Mayr is not teleological. So selection reduces to elimination. Indeed, one of his subheadings says as much: "Natural selection is really a process of elimination." (117)

3. Natural selection is a two-step process. At the first step, "chance rules supreme." (119) This step is where new variation is produced and includes "all the processes leading to the production of a new zygote (including meiosis, gamete formation, and fertilization). . ." (119) The second step is that of selection or elimination. This is the step at which the individual is tested, from the embryonic stage through the period during which it can reproduce. The individual must fend off threats from the environment, from other members of its species, and from the members of other species.

It is annoying that Mayr uses the same word 'selection' to refer both to the two-step process and also to the second step. But that may not be a problem. His main point is that while "chance rules supreme" at the first step, at which genetic vatiation is produced, there is much less chance at the second step, that of differential survival and reproduction. Therefore, "To claim that natural selection is entirely a chance process reveals total misunderstanding." (120) ". . .evolution is the result of both chance and necessity."

4. Natural selection is not teleological:

Selection is not teleological (goal-directed). Indeed, how could an elimination process be teleological? [It can't be, my man!] Selection does not have a long-term goal. [Or a short-term one either!] It is a process repeated anew in every generation. The frequency of extinction of evolutionary lineages, as well as their frequent changes in direction, is inconsistent with the mistaken claim that selection is a teleological process. Also there is no known genetic mechanism that could produce goal-directed evolutionary processes. . . . To say it in other words, evolution is not deterministic. (121)

This makes excellent sense, except for the last sentence, which is a product of confusion. Mayr appears to be saying that evolution is not deterministic because it is not teleological; but that is not the reason why it is not deterministic: it is not deterministic because the first step is dominated by chance or randomness.

5. In sum, natural selection, the mechanism that drives evolution, is not goal-oriented. It has no purpose or purposes whether conscious or unconscious. It intends nothing, and so cannot be said to design anything. The products of evolutionary processes, therefore, exhibit no design. How then can Dawkins suggest that natural selection "builds up" "efficiency of design"? ((BW 169). There is no design!