It's Hard to Argue with Success

Let's be clear: science works. The fruits of science include airplanes, computers, lasers, cell phones, x-rays, MRIs, men on the moon, and tons of other successes. But the fact that science "works" does not cede the point that while science can predict observable phenomenon, we should be skeptical of what science says about those parts of the world we cannot observe. There are innumerable examples of real-life observable phenomenon being susceptible to more than a single interpretation or theory. Consider again Copernicanism and geocentricism. Both were able to accurately predict the movement of heavenly bodies; in other words, the math worked for both. But the theories differed as to the why; from the ground there was no way of knowing which explanation for the movements was correct, but one of them was wrong.

Stokes provides a list of other instances in which the reasons offered by science for observable phenomenon turned out to be wrong. In the 19th century, for example, aether (or ether) - a substance that existed to transmit electromagnetic or gravitational forces - was "better confirmed than any other theoretical entity in natural philosophy!" Aether theories made startling predictions about observable phenomenon, and yet got it wrong when it came to what goes on behind the scenes. In other words, while aether does not exist, things were discovered and predicted as if it did! Given its track record in the history of science, it seems that we should as least be wary about how much stock we put in current theories - that is, theories that "work" to help make discoveries and predictions based on false assumptions - given the frequency with which theories are overturned. The mechanics of the theories can be correct, but the explanations for those mechanics could be wrong.

So, for example, while modern theories of quantum mechanics and general relativity have been subjected to ridiculously rigorous testing, it could be learned - as with aether theories - that while the science works, theories may not. Consider this: Newtonian physics and Einstein's theories may be able to predict the occurrence of gravity (after all, we went to the moon on these predictions), but their notions of why an object gets pulled to the surface, (e.g., following curved space) may not; no one can see the force. An equally plausible and yet equally unobservable explanation could be that God is individually holding each of us in place, pulling that individual apple down to earth, and allowing each rocket to leave the earth and enter space. Since God is consistent and unchangeable, the predictability of gravity could reflect the consistency of his character acting on the universe. This cannot be disproven. As we mentioned last week, individuals choose explanations that seem most "plausible" given a stunning array of ideas, assumptions, beliefs, and worldviews. To wit: In his book, Grand Design, Stephen Hawking writes that although the Big Bang model of the universe's origin is more useful than the Genesis account, "neither model can be said to be more real than the other."

Stokes concludes the chapter:

...perhaps, given that we can't be sure that our theories tell the truth about unobservable reality, we should rest content with empirical adequacy. That is, maybe we shouldn't insist that a theory tell us the truth about unobservable subatomic particles or gravitational fields, as long as the world behaves as if there are such entities.

Like aether.

Real Science is the Hardest

This is the third and last entry related to chapter 6 in Mitch Stokes' book, How to be an Atheist. We left off yesterday with the notion that "the beliefs we have strongly influence the beliefs we form." So, when it comes to scientists, what beliefs do they have? Stokes describes how scientists undergo training that is extremely formative and very effective, and prepares them for membership in a unique culture: "Ever after, scientists tend to look at the world differently, through a different set of lenses." A worldview.

Textbooks often depict science as a relatively neat and hygienic accumulation of knowledge, spending little time on chronicling science-related dead ends, misfires, and failures. In a way, that makes sense and is quite practical; there is so much to know that just learning about the successes is a herculean task. But with that, science gains a reputation of cool reason, sober observation, and, in some sense, infallibility. Science education also teaches students what kinds of authorities to trust; Stokes writes: "This is crucial, because most of what a scientist knows - indeed most of what each of us knows - is by way of testimony, from what others tell us." While the reputation of science is as a discipline of objectivity and skepticism, in many ways, it tends to orbit around a shared collection of community-accepted sources of knowledge.

Stokes goes on to discuss how existing theories (from these community-accepted sources of knowledge) influence observation, which in turn influences theory, which influences observation: "We have here a kind of scientific hermeneutic circle, even for something as apparently objective as seeing. Seeing is believing, but the converse is true too." And once a theory is in place it's hard to let it go. Humans often hold onto their beliefs as long as they can and will do whatever it takes to keep a belief system in place. Scientists are no different; they don't give up on a theory immediately when trouble arises. They will often take heroic steps to save it. This is not a bad thing; all theories are challenged by data points. If scientists gave up on every theory that was challenged by anomalies in the data, no theory would get off the ground. But commitment to a theory can also lead to a "save the theory at all costs" disposition. A disproven theory can threaten one's life's work and, like with most humans, work often becomes our identity - who we are. To abandon a theory could leave a person without purpose and hope. Pride also is a factor. So, you can see why a scientist could hold onto a theory despite the evidence that sober skepticism elicits.

Perhaps, scientists are only human after all.

Real Science is Harder

In this second part of the discussion on chapter 6, we'll look at the fundamentals of scientific inquiry: (1) Observation, (2) Hypothesis, (3) Prediction, and (4) Experiment. First, we observe something, a phenomenon, and then we want to know why it occurred. We speculate by creating a hypothesis, the best explanation for what we've observed. In other words, we come up with a theory to explain why the world behaves this way. But remember: we don't observe theories and hypotheses; they are "stories about the physical drama unfolding behind the scenes." To determine which ones are better than others, we compare how well they predict the world's behavior through predictions and experiments. We test them to see if they have prophesied correctly! Given all of this, keep in mind what Stokes is trying to demonstrate: on what basis does science claim that God's existence is unlikely? If science is bound to their own scientific methodology, are they using that methodology to draw their conclusions about God or something else?

One complication in constructing a scientific theory (model) is that there is usually more than one theory or hypothesis that will match the observations. Remember my wet friend example? There were at least three explanations for why he was wet; I chose the one that I thought was more plausible. It's possible that someone else with different experiences and information (e.g., did not know rain was in the forecast) could have drawn a different conclusion. From a historical science perspective, both helio- (sun) and egocentricity (earth) theories matched observations about the movement of the sun, and could predict those movements. But at least one of them was wrong.

So how does one know which explanation is best? Well, it's complicated. You could say, "All things considered, this is the best one" but that's too simplistic. In my wet friend example, two people could "consider all things," and still come up with different explanations. In many ways, explanations for phenomena are greatly influenced by what we already believe about the world and the way it works. Stokes notes: "In the debate about heliocentricity [the sun revolves around the earth], many factors other than observation played a role in the debate on both sides: beliefs about Neoplatonism, the nature of Scripture, the authority of Aristotle, the authority of the Catholic Church,...and so on." So, we can say with some certainty, that " the beliefs we have strongly influence the beliefs we form. Old beliefs shape new beliefs." Scientific inquiry - like all inquiry - is shaped by belief. Credo ut intelligam.

One more post on this tomorrow.

Real Science is Hard

When I started this series, I said I wasn't going to go through the book systematically, but I guess I am. I think to understand Stokes' approach, I have to provide at least some insights into each chapter. The next chapter is pretty long and gets into considerable detail about how science works...and it's a bit hard to understand; thus the title of this post. I'll try to cover all of it in one post.

According to Stokes, science has brought humans tremendous advancements and...it works! But just because it has been successful in many areas of human endeavor, this doesn't mean that it is right about everything. In this chapter, Stokes demonstrates that even where it shines - in the world of physical reality - it gets things wrong: "And if science likely gets things wrong about earthly things, why would we believe it when it comes to heavenly things?" While the scientific method is often presented as clear-cut, objective, and fool-proof, we'll see that it is more complex than that and it is as human as every other human endeavor; that is, it is prone to human quirkiness.

Inference is the key to the scientific method and is at the heart of theory-making. When something is inferred it is not directly observed. If a friend of mine comes into my window-less basement and he's soaking wet, I'll infer that he was caught in a rain storm even though I didn't see the rain or him running through it. Of course, it's also possible that he ran through a sprinkler or went swimming fully-clothed, but the most plausible explanation based on my life's experience and the limited data I know about the outside world (rain was in the forecast) is that he was caught in the rain. So, when we talk about inference and theories we are attempting to explain - why do things appear this way. A theory is an explanation. And as you can see in my simple example - inference to the best explanation - is not always straight-forward; there are typically other explanations. In general, then, we can say that science is in the business of inferring theories. Stokes sets up the rest of the chapter with this:

But no matter how well a theory predicts or represents observable phenomena - no matter how well it is supported by this agreement with observation - it is still a theory, simply because it is inferred and not observed. Not only is evolution 'merely' a theory, but so too are general relativity and quantum mechanics, the most well-attested scientific theories humans have devised. The real question is this: how good are our reasons for believing them; how good are our inferences?

I guess this will take more than one post. See you next time.

Hume's Fork and Logical Positivism

Eighteenth century natural philosophy - thanks to men like Hume and Newton - seemed to address the previous science's problem - that is the science of Aristotle - by avoiding messy speculations about causes and unobservable phenomenon. Instead it took more of a "just the facts, ma'am" approach to science. As Stokes writes: "By sticking to cool reason and sober observation, Newton and his colleagues...seemed to avoid dogmatic speculation while simultaneously eliminating the subjective influences of worldviews and biases." The thought here is that by taking the human factor out of science (i.e., subjectivity), true knowledge could be known, understood, and universally accepted. Oh, if it were only that easy.

For Hume (and the new scientists),knowing can come only from sense perception (what we can observe; Hume called this "matter of fact") and, he added, "relations of ideas"; for example, we can know that 2+2=4 without appealing to our sense perception. I can know that "bachelors are unmarried males" without checking the entire world and asking every bachelor; it would be true even if very male was married. This type of knowing is based on definition, especially related to math and logic. These two distinctions comprise "Hume's fork" which helps us - according to Hume and others - identify the limits of knowledge: "[beliefs] that don't make the cut - any that aren't either matters of fact or relations of ideas - aren't even candidates for knowledge."

One has to wonder, was there a "human" component to Hume's pursuit of knowledge? Why did he pursue science in this way? Was there a worldview involved? In his conclusion to his major treatise on human understanding, Hume remarked: "If we take in our hand any volume of divinity or school of metaphysics...let us ask, Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity and number? No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Commit it then to flames, for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion." So much for the pure objectivity of scientific exploration.

Later in the 20th century, a philosophical movement called "logical positivism" took up Hume's mantle, holding that a statement is meaningful only if (1) it can be empirically checked, or (2) it is a matter of definition. Sound familiar? Like Hume's fork, all beliefs - according to logical positivists - had to pass these verifiable criterion to be considered knowledge. For over 40 years, this approach to knowledge dominated the academic community, and, of course, dismissed any reference to God as literal nonsense.

But the death of logical positivism (or what should have been) ultimately was self-inflicted as there was a problem at its very core: its own verifiable criterion undermined itself. Stokes writes: "The requirement that a meaningful statement must be either empirically verifiable or else a matter of definition is itself neither one of these...[logical positivism] eventually imploded." Again, we return to something we noted earlier: Credo ut intelligam - "I believe so that I may understand." Logical positivists (like all of us) had to have belief as their starting point because they could not prove the basis for their philosophy using their own philosophical equipment.

The other major hit to logical positivism came from science historian, Thomas Kuhn, who noted that science and approaches to science often change - not through sterile, calculated, objective observations - but through very human shifts in worldview as we saw in Hume's motivation to discredit religion.

With all of this, Stokes is asking us to be careful and to hold a healthy skepticism about many features of science and the status of current scientific theories.

To See or Not to See?

In chapter 4, Stokes continues on by discussing the tradition of skepticism built into science. He is doing all of this because he ultimately wants to show that scientists - particularly atheists - do not demonstrate the same level of "sober skepticism" they express toward religion that they do towards their own "scientific" conclusions. As we mentioned last time, Hawkings "spontaneous creation" should generate more skepticism from other scientists than it does - if indeed they are committed to science.

Stokes notes that Hume - our consummate skeptic - held to the standard (or at least tried to) that seeing is believing; that is, in order for science to have any validity - and to distinguish itself from supernatural belief - it must be grounded in sense perception. But, as we saw, there are no non-circular arguments for the reliability of sense perception or reason: we just have to believe that they are reliable. So much for "seeing is believing." It's more like "believing is believing."

As Stokes points out, Hume had a choice: "...he could fully accept his skeptical conclusions and reject science (and every other endeavor), or else he could go ahead and trust his cognitive faculties, thereby sustaining his devotion to science. He chose the latter, realizing that true love always requires trust."

The chapter goes on to discuss how - because science is committed to observable phenomenon - it shouldn't have much to say about causes or the "why" of things. For example, while science describes gravity - the force between two objects - it cannot tell us what causes the force. For modern science to be true to itself - to what it can observe - it cannot answer the question "why is the force thus?"

In his desire to be true to science and science alone, Hume would at times become despondent as he asked the questions that science - his chosen worldview - could not answer:
Where am I, or what? From what causes do I derive my existence, and to what condition shall I return? Whose favour shall I court, and whose anger must I dread? What beings surround me? and on whom may I any influence, or who have any influence on me? I am confounded with all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, inviron'd with the deepest darkness, and utterly depriv'd of the use of every member and faculty.

You might understand why atheists today are stretching science into the realm of the unobservable for answers.

Science Answers Life's Questions

In chapter 3, Stokes takes a look at how science came to pre-eminence, especially as it has replaced God - at least as some people believe. Science has moved into the realm of philosophy (without admitting it) as its adherents have attempted to answer fundamental questions about life:

• Why is there something rather than nothing?
• Why do we exist?
• Why this particular set of laws and not some others?

Stokes turns to Stephen Hawking, as he has been one of the most outspoken critics of God. In his book, The Grand Design, Hawking demonstrates that there is no need for God to answer these questions. Hawking relies on M-theory, a sophisticated theory in physics, that is "a candidate for the ultimate theory of everything." One of the foundational concepts of this theory is that there are multiple universes (10 to the 500 power) that are completely separate from one another and originated "naturally from physical law." This law tell us or inform us that "quantum fluctuations lead to the creation of tiny universes out of nothing." In other words, the physical law that we have come to understand allows for or explains how universes can come from nothing. Hawking writes: "Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist." The fact of the availability of spontaneous creation means the universe(s) did not need a creator. So this is why "there is something rather than nothing."

Now, how does the multiverse address the second question about why we exist? According to Hawking, the answer lies in physics. The laws of physics govern all the fundamental components out of which the universe is made. Without the laws of physics, the conditions for life involving chemical and biological processes, would not exist. To answer the question then: We exist because the laws of physics make life possible. Stokes summarizes Hawkings position: "...although the more proximate cause of humans is the process of evolution...the more remote explanation is that the laws of physics are conducive to the appearance of life." In addition:

The multiverse, says Hawking, is an all-natural way to tame the staggering improbabilities associated with the universe coming to life. Out of so many universes, one of them was sure to produce life from dead matter. And, of course, it was ours....

Bottom life: we exists because statistically it was inevitable.

Finally, we look at why this particular set of laws and not some others. Well, we already answered this: "The proliferation of universes makes universes and their laws a dime a dozen, greatly increasing the odds that at least some universe or other will have these [life-conducive] laws." Again, we have these laws and not some others because statistically it was inevitable.

This is generally where the atheistic scientists stand vis-a-vis these questions. But if we take the stance of a "sober skeptic" we should have more questions. And as "sober skeptics" themselves, these scientists should want more as well.