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# 63
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July 2005
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OK! I changed my mind (three
times!)
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As regular readers of this column know, I occasionally
try to debunk the myth that skeptics are just a
bunch of curmudgeons and naysayers, people who have
a strong psychological need to feel superior and
always right. As a small contribution to this demystification,
let me tell you about not one, not two, but three
(!!) instances in which I changed my mind about
issues of concern to freethinkers and skeptics,
and in the process try to learn when it is in fact
reasonable to change opinion.
The first example is the most important
from the point of view of my personal philosophy,
and in fact it does concern an apparently subtle
-- yet crucial -- philosophical point. A few years
ago, the National Association of Biology Teachers
changed their definition of "evolution"
in a way that avoided any reference to the absence
of undirected causes guiding natural selection.
The change was prompted by complaints by prominent
theologians, such as Alvin Plantinga, but was also
endorsed by secular scientists such as National
Center for Science Education's Eugenie Scott. I
was outraged, and wrote a scathing letter to the
NABT (and to Scott, I didn't bother writing to Plantinga),
to the effect that this was setting a worrisome
precedent of an educational organization caving
in to religious pressure. My friend Genie Scott
tried to explain to me that the change in wording
was based on the distinction between philosophical
and methodological naturalism.
Naturalism is the position that the world can be
understood in natural (as opposed to supernatural)
terms, and has become a focus for the wrath of creationists,
which accuse scientists of attempting to sneak atheism
into public education. But this accusation confuses
the two forms of naturalism: a philosophical naturalist
is, indeed, an atheist (or other non-religious individual),
because that person has concluded (often based on
reasoning informed by science) that there is, in
fact, no such thing as the supernatural. Science
does not need to make that bold philosophical claim,
because it has the option of adopting methodological
naturalism, i.e. a provisional and pragmatic position
that all we need in order to understand reality
is natural laws and phenomena. The supernatural
may exist, but it does not necessary for explanatory
purposes. The beauty of this distinction is that
it shields science from the creationist accusation
of being just another religion. Ironically, one
can easily show that most human beings, most of
the times, behave as methodological naturalists,
including creationists! Say, for example, that your
car doesn't want to start this morning. What do
you do? You will likely not pray or ask your preacher,
you will go to a mechanic. That is, you are assuming
that there must be a natural explanation for the
break down. Moreover, even if the mechanic will
not be able to identify the problem and solve it,
you will go and buy a new car with the conviction
that there must have been a logical explanation
for the break down, but that insufficient data were
available to both you and your mechanic to pinpoint
the problem. That is exactly the way science works,
and it's a beauty.
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At the time of the
NABT controversy I thought that invoking the distinction
between philosophical and methodological naturalism
was a cop out, and I rebelled against it. Some of
my colleagues, most notably Richard Dawkins, still
think that way (he often refers to situations like
these as instances of "intellectual bankruptcy"),
but I have changed my mind. While I still think
the NABT should have considered the matter independently
of the interference of theologians (at least part
of the motivation for the change was pragmatic,
not philosophical), I owe an apology to my friend
Genie: she was right, I was wrong. Of course, I
am both a methodological and a philosophical naturalist,
and I do see a logical connection between the two.
But such connection is neither necessary nor a result
of scientific evidence (pace Dawkins). |
The second instance I wish to discuss
also relates to the never-ending battle against creationism.
When I first got involved in it, soon after having moved
to the University of Tennessee (near the site of the
infamous Scopes trial) in 1996, I began debating creationists
in public. I have since done several debates against
most of the major figures of that bizarre cultural movement
(including Duane Gish, Ken Hovind, Jonathan Wells, and
William Dembski, to name a few). But the number of debates
I have engaged in has diminished to a trickle over the
years, reflecting a change of heart I have had about
the whole approach. Once again, Genie Scott was right
(and, this time, on the same side of Dawkins!): debating
head-to-head against creationists is a bad idea because
most debate formats favor sound bites, and sound bites
are easier and more effective for people who wish to
attack science than for those who want to defend it.
It is relatively easy to throw hundreds of apparently
damning questions to a scientist in the span of a few
minutes; it is very difficult for a scientist to seriously
address even a few of those or, more importantly, to
explain to the public how science really works (as opposed
to the caricature presented by creationists). This is
not to say that scientists shouldn't be engaged in the
public arena to counter creationist claims; indeed,
even Scott agrees that some public forums are acceptable
for two-way encounters (usually media appearances with
a truly neutral host and a conversational, rather than
confrontational style). But the best strategy we have
is to talk to the public directly, on our terms, and
using the arsenal of tools available to science educators.
So, please, don't call me again for future debates,
OK?
Lastly, let's talk about this "Brights"
thing. As some readers may know, the Brights are a recently
emerged movement within the general area of freethought.
Brights decided to call themselves that way because
they (rightly) realized that most other terms (e.g.,
atheist, skeptic, etc.) tend to carry negative connotations
that contribute to stigmatize non religious people and
justify discrimination against them. So, the proponents
of the Brights movement said, why not emulate the success
of the Gay community and use a positive word to describe
who we are? The initial response from many authors (including
myself, in an earlier Rationally Speaking column) was
very positive, even enthusiastic in the case of Dan
Dennett and Richard Dawkins. The problem, of course,
was pointed out immediately, and even the brave proponents
of the Brights movement themselves acknowledged it and
wrestled with it: going around affirming one's "Brightness"
(even capitalized, as a noun, rather than in small letters,
as an adjective) isn't exactly the best way to diffuse
the image of intellectual snobbery that afflicts skeptics
and freethinkers (the latter being another word of questionable
usefulness in this context). Indeed, I have never actually
introduced myself as a Bright to anybody. Therefore,
while I wish the Brights the best future I can imagine,
I'm no longer sure it was such a bright idea.
These three instances show not just
that skeptics can and in fact do change their mind about
issues. More importantly, it shows that such changes
occur after careful consideration of arguments (and,
where appropriate, empirical evidence). Changing one's
mind is not a virtue in and of itself, because it can
happen for very bad, or at least superficial, reasons.
As Carl Sagan once put it, be careful not to be so open
minded that your brain falls off! On the other hand,
maintaining a position for the sake of consistency,
or out of sheer stubbornness, negates the very essence
of what David Hume called "positive skepticism."
One last warning: I am open to change my mind again
on any of the three issues discussed above, should new
good arguments or evidence come my way...
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