Daniel:
Though I agree with you on much, I don’t think we are going to see eye-to-eye on the issues regarding scientific professionalism. You are a science grad student and presumably committed to a career in physics, and you look at things from that viewpoint. I understand this. Religion scholars and philosophers and historians etc. also have their insider’s viewpoint on the way things should be properly done in religion, philosophy, history, etc. I have a degree of sympathy with this. Specialists have insights to teach the world. Nonetheless, after more than 60 years of living, with much of my time spent in and around academics, I am much less convinced than many academic specialists seem to be that they are the only ones qualified to touch on matters related to their subjects.
I was a superb, way above average student in school, in all subjects – math, physics, chemistry, space science, history, geography, Latin, French, English, I skipped grades, was sent to gifted learner’s schools, won scholarships, etc., eventually going to a very good research university on a science scholarship. But while I loved science, I also loved all other academic subjects. I have learned the different thought-patterns of the different professionals over my lifetime (much high-level conversation with scientists, economists, statisticians, engineers, etc. as well as Classicists, political scientists, theologians, historians, etc.), and I find that specialists tend to develop “tunnel vision” – tend to see things in one way, the way that is most drilled into them by their training, and by the reward system (jobs, tenure, grants, promotions) in their profession. I don’t find the majority of specialists in most subjects – science or humanities or social science – very intellectually flexible or very willing to look at things in new ways. Most scientists and scholars are much more comfortable working within existing paradigms, filling out their details, etc. But I’ve always been attracted more to the scientists and scholars who are mavericks, who think outside the box.
Such creative people may notice some relevance of information theory or physics or philosophy to evolutionary theory, or may notice some relevance of ecology to the study of ancient history, etc. And such people are not the sort of people to play the “that’s not science” card or the “that’s not history” card – they are more willing to expand their horizons, and they are quite willing to learn from people from other fields who lack their specialized training. In fact, Darwin and Wallace both attributed their key insight of “natural selection” to the reading of an economist, Malthus; reading “outside their field” helped them “inside their field”.
For example, J. Scott Turner is a fully qualified physiologist, with many publications, an expert among other things on the biology of termites and the ecology of their mounds. He is now writing about evolution, and his approach to evolution requires a fresh look at the question, “What is life, anyway?” So he reads all the standard biological stuff, but he also reads philosophy, theology, or any other material which might be able to help him get a handle on the nature of life. He will read a modern technical journals but he will read Aristotle as well. That’s the kind of scientist I admire, and that is the kind of scientist I would have tried to be, had I finally chosen to stay in science rather than switch to the humanities and theology. The Polanyis, the Heisenbergs, the Hoyles – these are kinds of scientists I admire as broad thinkers, more than the scientist who spends his entire career studying four or five proteins used in the wings of fruit flies.
So I guess I’m finding much of what you say in your new post (as opposed to what you said in earlier posts, which resonated with me) to be a reflection of a sort of professional defensiveness, a sort of guarding of the fort, to prevent any widening of perspective on origins questions, beyond what is currently acceptable to the card-carrying insiders. And I don’t find that intellectually appealing.
I don’t much care whether ID is classed as “science” or not. I think the ID folks make too big a deal about being called “scientific.” But equally I think their opponents are also too obsessed with what counts as “science”. I’m more concerned with what’s true, whether it’s scientific or not. For example, if the question is: “Did life arise by the accidental sloshing together of simple molecules in the primeval ocean, which by chance built up more and more complex molecules etc. until life formed?” I don’t see why all intelligent discussion – whether it comes from biochemists or economists or philosophers – should not be allowed. But certain people act as if “origin of life” is their proprietary interest – belongs to their profession only, and no one else has anything valid to say about it. This “you don’t have the union card, so you can’t come to the meeting” attitude is to me deeply anti-intellectual.
I don’t object when a scientist or medical doctor or anyone makes a point about philosophy or theology I hadn’t thought about before. I don’t say, “You’re not a theologian, and therefore you couldn’t possibly have an insight into theological questions.” I weigh the ideas on their merit, not on who they came from.
I’ve heard people make the idiotic claim that Michael Behe has no right to speak about evolution, because he is not a biologist, but only a biochemist, the premise being that the subject “evolution” somehow “belongs” to biologists exclusively. (But of course those same people never object when Larry Moran, also a biochemist and not a biologist, denounces Behe. Then, all of a sudden, the boundaries are relaxed.) This territorial mentality is to me non-productive.
What does it matter if Bill Dembski is not a “scientist” but a “mathematician”? I have a friend at one of the top ten universities in the world who is not a scientist, but a mathematician. He is called upon by scientists from all fields – biology, engineering, even economics – to help them with their work. Is he unqualified to say anything at all about science because he is not a “scientist”? That makes no sense. If someone wants to argue that Bill Dembski’s arguments are flawed, that is perfectly fine with me; but to argue that he doesn’t need to be listened to because he’s “not a scientist, only a mathematician” is to me symptomatic of a tribal defensiveness.
This “who counts as a scientist” or “who counts as a biologist” etc. attitude is really a species of argumentum ad hominem – arguing against the person rather than the person’s argument. I would rather see your specific criticisms of particular ID writer’s particular claims, than your general objection to the fact that certain ID writers don’t match your definition of “scientist.” If their science is inadequate, you should be able to show that without applying labels to them.
And of course, the place to do that is not here, since this thread is about “natural theology” not “ID arguments for design”. If you want a discussion about the flaws in ID arguments, I would suggest you post a column here on something like: “Five Flaws I Have Found in ID Arguments” – and then those who wish to discuss those arguments and your rebuttal could answer them. I would have nothing against such a discussion. But it’s not what I’ve been talking about here, and I’d rather stick to the main theme.
By the way, for what it’s worth, I agree with you entirely about the problem with theories that can never be confirmed experimentally. String theory and multiverse are two theories which are either impossible or very hard to confirm experimentally, yet some mathematicians and physicists insist they should be accepted on the strength of the equations alone, or because of their “elegance and simplicity” or the like. I agree that science requires empirical confirmation. But in fact, if we limited our thoughts on the origin of life to strictly what has been confirmed by empirical data, we would have to say that all current theories of accidental abiogenesis are in a very weak state. Yet if you ask most biologists, I suspect that you would find that they believe that life did in fact come about accidentally, even if we have no idea how. That’s because a metaphysical commitment (to non-design) is overriding commitment to good empirical science, which so far – says James Tour, who knows more than most about this subject – give very little grounds for an accidental origin of life. That is another reason why it’s good to have philosophers in on even “scientific” discussions; philosophers are good at spotting such tacit metaphysical commitments, whereas biologists have zero training in that area (as I know from my years spent with biology, biochemistry etc. students).