Everybody needs to sit back and relax. In this anniversary year of both Charles Darwin’s birth and his magnum opus, we shall surely hear even more than usual about this brilliant and thinking man whose ideas changed the world forever. Let’s celebrate and learn from him, whether we agree with him or not, rather than use his ideas as kindling for the ‘the culture wars between science and religion.’ I know: kindling and fires sell books—but let’s relax and go a bit deeper.
In The New Republic, Jerry Coyne, a respected professor of ecology and evolution at the University of Chicago, reviews two books that attempt to reconcile science and religion: Karl Giberson’s Saving Darwin: How to be a Christian and Believe in Evolution (HarperOne, 2009) and Kenneth Miller’s Only A Theory: Evolution and the Battle for America’s Soul (Viking, 2009). Coyne’s own contribution to the conversation was also just published, and its title is self-explanatory: Why Evolution Is True (Viking, 2009).
It takes him a long time to say it, but Coyne’s main point is that however hard Giberson or Miller or anyone else tries, they will never be able to reconcile science and religion, because science and religion are irreconcilable. Coyne does an admirable job of demonstrating this, point by (now tiresome) point.
First, there’s the usual collection of statistics illustrating Americans’ stupidity (74% of us believe in angels, and most of us in miracles, etc.); so, clearly, we need help, and the implication is that science will provide this help if only we were more rational, for God’s sake.
Then, there’s the God-of-the-gaps argument and why it’s so weak. God-of-the-gaps goes like this: science can explain everything except blank (depending on the historical moment, fill in the blank with: how the earth moves around the sun, why we look like our parents, why the proteins in a bacterial flagellum work the way they do, why only humans can write columns like this), so God must be—or be responsible for—blank. The problem with this, which Coyne complains both Giberson and Miller ultimately call on, is eventually science explains away the gaps, and space for God becomes smaller and smaller.
There’s that whole thing about how you can never (or at least so far no one has been able to) scientifically prove whether prayer works or that God exists. It’s hard to jam religious experience—although many of us scientists have tried—into the controlled experiments of a scientific way of knowing. Again, Coyne’s implication and really the official scientific position of many is that, therefore, spiritual experiences are at best not worth as much as scientific experiences and, at worst, not worth anything.
There’s the counter-claim to those who say, “Science itself is a religion, so how can scientists badmouth religion?” Coyne argues, as many have before him, that science is not a religion. What counts as evidence in the two realms of science and religion is entirely different. If an experiment or other experience cannot be repeated, it and its data are discarded by science.
And finally, there’s the huge point emerging directly from Darwin’s work: science, unlike religion, does not hold up humans or Earth as in any way unique or inevitable.
Coyne does set off in a new and productive direction when he calls out many of those attempting the Great Reconciliation who blame the ‘new atheists’ for cultural discord. The line is that all these atheist scientists, Richard Dawkins and his book The God Delusion (2006) being the epitome, are inciting the masses by heaping abuse on religion and proclaiming the superiority of scientific reason. But then Coyne loses his way again by basically agreeing with Dawkins and ending his review by saying attempts at reconciliation will go on forever because reconciliation is impossible.
Here’s what I’m thinking, folks: everyone’s missing the point. The point is not whether Richard Dawkins and the evolutionists and the atheists are right or wrong or idiots; nor that the creationists are; nor that Miller and Giberson are. Nor that science should be battling religion or even necessarily that the two should kiss and make up.
The point is to acknowledge the pink elephant, not ignore her. The point is when in the classroom and in other public forums, science teachers, scientists, politicians, clergymen, and others discuss creationism or evolution, stem cells or abortion, in vitro fertilization or genetic testing, there is a pink elephant in the room. In my university science classroom, for example, the elephant is religion.
Science can be a good and powerful force; religion can be a good and powerful force. And they, and the broad spectrum of ideas and opinions within each, can work together for more good and power than either alone. This, despite Coyne’s thesis, is, if not reconciliation, at least a step toward it, and perhaps even a step beyond it toward the emergence of new possibilities.
The case of federal funding for embryonic stem-cell research is a case in point. While the positions of Presidents Bush and Obama were and are controversial, both attempted (to varying degrees) to consider the pink elephants. Both positions call for careful thinking, rethinking, and monitoring of the science and its implications for religions, life, and society.
When the pink elephant is ignored, everyone loses. My point at first appears subtle, but it makes all the difference. We don’t need to embrace the pink elephant, but we must acknowledge her, bring her up to the front of the room and introduce her from all angles. I do not mean teach creationism in a science class or endorse stem-cell therapy in a church. Don’t teach creationism, teach about creationism, recognize it, use it as a teaching opportunity.
To not do this exacerbates the very statistics about Americans cited by Coyne; we need to do this because of those statistics. When we do, people actually learn better, see that there are usually more than simply two sides to an argument, and aren’t forced, as they currently are, to ‘take sides’ or reject ideas. Humans learn better when we can relate knowledge to our daily experiences and consider it from diverse perspectives. It’s called education. And, yes, it’s difficult.
Do this and the whole conversation changes. Do this, and we’ll have less yelling and less name-calling, less forced reconciliation. Provide the information in a rich, non-confrontational, engaging context. Then let people come to their own conclusions; it’s called education.
Now can we celebrate?
Tags: arri eisen, creationism, darwin, god of the gaps, intelligent design, jerry coyne, karl giberson, kenneth miller, new republic, richard dawkins, stem cell research
In an essay discussing a review of two books talking about science vs. religion, I'm a bit baffled as to why you accuse everyone-- everyone!-- of ignoring religion. Rather, it seems that your beef is that religion is getting too much attention. In response to the willingness of a number of religious believers to insist on trying to overlap the non-overlapping magisteria by asserting that evolutionary theory cannot be taught because it contravenes their beliefs, scientists are coming out and explaining, in explicit detail, exactly why that won't fly. Regardless of whether they are scientists of faith who think that the two can easily be juggled, or scientists without faith who thinks that science and religion can only be reconciled by religion surrendering, that point remains the same.
What will happen when this point is thoroughly driven home, and publically (if not privately) accepted? Religion will be a ghost in a dunce hat, sitting in the corner in the classroom while reality is discussed. I don't object to teaching about creationism in biology class, but we should realize that doing so amounts to saying "Here is what some people believe, but they are wrong. We are going to learn what is correct." Is that any more complimentary to religion than not mentioning it at all?
At the university level I think it's possible to have a rational, calm discussion about creationism and evolution-- and not only possible, but necessary. At high school, I don't think the teachers are prepared for such a thing, let alone the students. The chairman of the Texas State Board of Education recently gave a glowing review to a book which called Christians who accept evolution "morons" and parents who teach evolution to their children "monsters." The Kansas State Board of Education tried to re-define science itself in order to let supernatural explanations in the back door. I have little faith in the ability of the public school system at this point to be able to comprehend, let alone have productive discussions about, the "pink elephant" in science class. If they're going to do it, then it seems to me that the best place to start would be with comparative religion classes, which have not only been deemed constitutional but encouraged by the Supreme Court. Maybe in such a context students could first learn to deal with the fact that their religion is not the only one that exists, but in fact there are a multiplicity of stories about how we came to be and why life is meaningful that other people hold to just as strongly as they do theirs-- yes, even the Flying Spaghetti Monster for some.
I don't think that religious Americans are "stupid," and I highly doubt Coyne does either. They are, however, incredibly insulated concerning both the intersection of claims from science and faith respectively as well as the history and breadth of their own religion, and religion in general. There's nothing wrong with taking sides so long as you actually know what and who are on the other side, and on yours. The problem is that most Americans don't.
One of the challenges that a science teacher faces, I think, is how much attention to devote to the “pink elephant.” As a philosophy professor, I don’t have to worry about taking time away from what I’m supposed to be teaching in order to consider the intersections of science and religion. After all, the question of whether science and religion can be reconciled is itself a philosophical question. Hence, it's part of what I'm supposed to be teaching. But how much time should science teachers devote to questions that are essentially philosophical rather than scientific?
There are two concerns that arise here. The first has to do with going off on tangents. In a science classroom, the goal needs to be to educate students about science. Dr. Eisen rightly notes that ignoring the pink elephant isn’t going to help reach this goal. Students who think that evolution clashes with their faith and therefore must be bunk aren’t exactly in a good position to absorb and appreciate what evolutionary biologists have to teach.
But as the previous commentator, “Rillion,” points out, if biology professors in the classroom limit their discussion of this issue to a scientific assessment of creationism or ID theory, the result will be that creationism and ID theory end up being thoroughly trashed as bad science. The conservative religious students are likely to walk away thinking that science is the enemy of their faith—again, not exactly good for absorbing and appreciating what science has to teach.
So, it isn’t enough in a science classroom to explain why ID theory is bad science. But to go further is to tread out of the domain of science and into the domain of philosophy. Going off on this tangent will take time away from teaching science.
But lost time is only one of the concerns we need to contend with here. Some scientists are careful students of philosophy with a real aptitude for philosophical methodology, but many others, when they attempt to do philosophy of religion, fall prey to mistakes and confusions that few with a higher degree in philosophy would make.
In fact, philosophers (myself included) have written entire books devoted to the philosophical errors made by scientists such as Richard Dawkins and Victor Stenger. And it isn’t just atheist scientists who are guilty of doing bad philosophy of religion. A few years back I was at a talk by an accomplished chemist who spoke of the connection between his scientific work and religious faith, and the result was little short of embarrassing. The fact is that excellence in science is no guarantee of aptitude for leading philosophical conversations. And inept guidance through these difficult philosophical waters will not contribute much to a student’s education, scientific or otherwise.
Our best hope may lie in finding ways to promote interdisciplinary education in which rigorous science education is intentionally paired with educational venues dedicated specifically to addressing the philosophical and theological questions raised by engagement with science. I know of some schools that promote team-taught interdisciplinary courses, but it may be that the best approach is to pair science and philosophy courses, so that the same students takes both in tandem, the instructors develop their respective syllabi to complement one another, and they sit in on each others’ classes.
But to do that on a wide enough scale to make a difference would require some radical rethinking and restructuring of our approach to higher education.
What must be understood in this debate is that it is almost entirely about the implications of evolution, and not the facts themselves, at least in my view.
I don't believe that the vast majority of those who reject evolution do so because they started out with a belief that some key hypothesis was in fundamental error, but rather because evolution presents, from one point of view, a degrading picture of man.
Within the anti-evolution scene it is clear to me at least that it is Marx and Hitler that are more cause for concern than scientific facts and evidence. But these ARE legitimate concerns. The materialist philosophies of left and right have - if not caused - played major roles in shaping regimes that far surpassed any religious war in both the quantity and quality of their inhuman barbarism. Had they not ground each other down at places like Stalingrad during WWII, we might live under regimes where some form of materialist philosophy was the state religion, and this debate wouldn't be taking place at all - because those who believe in the alternatives would be dead, in prison, or in hiding.
Now isn't the time to insist that Hitler himself was really some sort of Christian (that debate will never cease) or that Stalin turned Lenin into a "deity". Both of these claims might have a bit of truth to them but they are insignificant shadows next to the materialist philosophies that served as the justification for these regimes.
What many Americans want, Americans steeped in the basic ideas of Locke and Jefferson, is an assurance that man will retain inherent dignity and value, and materialism cannot promise that. And it seems that consistent materialism would have no choice but to conclude that such demands are irrelevant at best. With no Gods, no creators, no ultimate being that values us each equally and unconditionally, the value of a man is a subjective and contingent thing. That doesn't mean that a lack of faith turns one into a barbarian overnight, but it does mean that it becomes easier to look at some people and decide that they have less value, less utility, that the cost of their existence is greater than the benefit. It doesn't really matter, either, that historically religious groups have excluded or killed "the infidel" - from a materialist perspective why should social competition between human cultures and religions carry any more moral significance than struggles for resources between tigers and lions? Only when man is important does this matter, and as soon as man is important, materialism becomes a little less attractive.
In my view the best bet is to make, as Heisenberg, Einstein, and other great scientists who have dabbled in social questions have done, a clear distinction between methodological and philosophical materialism. Most religions claim that there is a reality outside of time and space, outside of the mechanical universe we inhabit; if this is so, then methodological materialism has nothing at all to say about it. Only philosophical materialism has to insist that this is all either a) rubbish or b) if it could ever be shown to exist, some manifestation of matter.
People live for more than facts, whether we like it or not. People also crave meaning. This is what makes us human. Can people find meaning in evolution? If all people can see when they look at you is a crowd of professors reveling in the meaninglessness of existence, they will rightfully reject you. What do you have to offer?
Thanks for the thoughtful comments. Some responses:
Let’s move beyond the evolution v. creation discussion. To me this is a symptom, not an underlying cause of polarization. If we’re going to avoid or at least temper the polarization and non-productiveness around these issues, let’s address the underlying cause. And that’s where the pink elephant comes in.
Anything we do as an American community needs to go both ways. When one of the many issues with science and spirituality components arise, scientists and science educators and clergy, philosophers, and humanists should at least acknowledge the elephant. It’s a two-way (multi-way actually) street.
I agree science and religion should be discussed in comparative religion, philosophy, and history classes as well as in more innovative interdisciplinary contexts, but I disagree that scientists need to spend all or most of their time ‘just teaching science’. This implies science is only about facts.
An essential piece of teaching science is its societal context. The assumption that it’s not and the omission of it are what got us in this mess in the first place; this is a vicious cycle and a big reason why scientists often look so bad when they do attempt to acknowledge religion or when non-scientists acknowledge science.
I never said any of this was easy; good education is not easy. But should we not do something important or give up on it because it’s difficult? I and others (see my other columns in RD) have demonstrated that scientists don’t need to spend a lot of time on societal context issues, and they can be effectively addressed at all age levels without taking sides or even mentioning religion. Simply opening the door to, in my case, humanist and ethical elements of issues, rather than ignoring them or belittling them, is often enough to relax the environment and get people thinking differently.
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