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by Nancy Pearcey
At Stanford University in the spring of 2005, I had my first experience of
being picketed. Organized by a campus group calling itself Rational Thought,
the picketers carried signs protesting the presence of Intelligent Design (ID)
proponents on campus. Several local atheist groups joined the controversy,
sparking colorful stories in the local newspapers.
Before me at the podium was Michael Behe, author of Darwin's Black
Box, speaking on the scientific evidence against evolution. I followed by
explaining the cultural and philosophical implications of evolution. As I
spoke, astonishingly, some of the protesters softened their hostility and
actually began to engage with what I was saying. The gist of my talk was that
Darwinism undercuts the very possibility of rational truth–an argument that
seemed unsettling to atheist students who had organized a group specifically to
promote rational thought!
To understand how Darwinism undercuts the very concept of rationality, we can
think back to the late nineteenth century when the theory first arrived on
American shores. Almost immediately, it was welcomed by a group of thinkers who
began to work out its implications far beyond science. They realized that
Darwinism implies a broader philosophy of naturalism (i.e., that nature is all
that exists, and that natural causes are adequate to explain all phenomena).
Thus they began applying a naturalistic worldview across the board–in
philosophy, psychology, the law, education, and the arts.
At the foundation of these efforts, however, was a naturalistic approach to
knowledge itself (epistemology). The logic went like this: If humans are
products of Darwinian natural selection, that obviously includes the human
brain–which in turn means all our beliefs and values are products of
evolutionary forces: Ideas arise in the human brain by chance, just like
Darwin's chance variations in nature; and the ones that stick around to become
firm beliefs and convictions are those that give an advantage in the struggle
for survival. This view of knowledge came to be called pragmatism (truth is
what works) or instrumentalism (ideas are merely tools for survival).
One of the leading pragmatists was John Dewey, who had a greater influence on
educational theory in America than anyone else in the 20th century. Dewey
rejected the idea that there is a transcendent element in human nature,
typically defined in terms of mind or soul or spirit, capable of knowing a
transcendent truth or moral order. Instead he treated humans as mere organisms
adapting to challenges in the environment. In his educational theory, learning
is just another form of adaptation–a kind of mental natural selection. Ideas
evolve as tools for survival, no different from the evolution of the lion's
teeth or the eagle's claws.
In a famous essay called "The Influence of Darwin on Philosophy," Dewey said
Darwinism leads to a "new logic to apply to mind and morals and life." In this
new evolutionary logic, ideas are not judged by a transcendent standard of
Truth, but by how they work in getting us what we want. Ideas do not "reflect
reality" but only serve human interests.
To emphasize how revolutionary this was, up until this time the dominant theory
of knowledge or epistemology was based on the biblical doctrine of the image of
God. Confidence in the reliability of human knowledge derived from the
conviction that finite human reason reflects (to some degree at least) an
infinite divine Reason. Since the same God who created the universe also
created our minds, we can be confident that our mental capacities reflect the
structure of the universe. In The Mind of God and the Works of Man,
Edward Craig shows that even as Western thinkers began to move away from
orthodox Christian theology, in their philosophy most of them still retained
the conception that our minds reflect an Absolute Mind as the basis for trust
in human cognition.
The pragmatists were among the first, however, to face squarely the
implications of naturalistic evolution. If evolutionary forces produced the
mind, they said, then all are beliefs and convictions are nothing but mental
survival strategies, to be judged in terms of their practical success in human
conduct. William James liked to say that truth is the "cash value" of an idea:
If it pays off, then we call it true.
This Darwinian logic continues to shape American thought more than we might
imagine. Take religion. William James was raised in a household with an intense
interest in religion. (In the Second Great Awakening his father converted to
Christianity, then later converted to Swedenborgianism). As a result, James
applied his philosophy of pragmatism to religion: We decide whether or not God
exists depending whether that belief has positive consequences in our
experience. "An idea is 'true' so long as to believe it is profitable to our
lives," James wrote in What Pragmatism Means. Thus "if theological
ideas prove to have a value for concrete life, they will be true."
Does this sound familiar? A great many Americans today choose their religion
based on what meets their needs, or "affirms" them, or helps them cope more
effectively with personal issues, from losing weight to building a better
marriage. I was recently chatting with a Christian who is very active in her
church; but when the topic turned to a mutual friend who is not a believer, her
response was, "Well, whatever works for you." Of course, there is a grave
problem with choosing a religion according to "whatever works for you"–namely,
that we cannot know whether it is really true or just a projection of our own
needs. As Lutheran theologian John Warwick Montgomery puts it, "Truths do not
always 'work', and beliefs that 'work' are by no means always true."
If James's religious pragmatism has become virtually the American approach to
spirituality today, then Dewey's pragmatism has become the preferred approach
to education. Virtually across the curriculum–from math class to moral
education–teachers are trained to be nondirective "facilitators," presenting
students with problems and allowing them to work out their own pragmatic
strategies for solving them. Of course, good teachers have always taught
students to think for themselves. But today's nondirective methodologies go far
beyond that. They springboard from a Darwinian epistemology that denies the
very existence of any objective or transcendent truth.
Take, for example, "constructivism," a popular trend in education today. Few
realize that it is based on the idea that truth is nothing more than a social
construction for solving problems. A leading theorist of constructivism, Ernst
von Glasersfeld at the University of Georgia, is forthright about its Darwinian
roots. "The function of cognition is adaptive in the biological sense," he
writes. "This means that 'to know' is not to possess 'true representations' of
reality, but rather to possess ways and means of acting and thinking that allow
one to attain the goals one happens to have chosen." In short, a Darwinian
epistemology implies that ideas are merely tools for meeting human goals.
These results of pragmatism are quite postmodern, so it comes as no surprise to
learn that the prominent postmodernist Richard Rorty calls himself a
neo-pragmatism. Rorty argues that postmodernism is simply the logical outcome
of pragmatism, and explains why.
According to the traditional, common-sense approach to knowledge, our ideas are
true when the represent or correspond to reality. But according to Darwinian
epistemology, ideas are nothing but tools that have evolved to help us control
and manipulate the environment. As Rorty puts it, our theories "have no more of
a representational relation to an intrinsic nature of things than does the
anteater's snout or the bowerbird's skill at weaving" (Truth and
Progress). Thus we evaluate an idea the same way that natural selection
preserves the snout or the weaving instinct–not by asking how well it
represents objective reality but only how well it works.
I once presented this progression from Darwinism to postmodern pragmatism at a
Christian college, when a man in the audience raised his hand: "I have only one
question. These guys who think all our ideas and beliefs evolved . . . do they
think their own ideas evolved?" The audience broke into delighted applause,
because of course he had captured the key fallacy of the Darwinian approach to
knowledge. If all ideas are products of evolution, and thus not really true but
only useful for survival, then evolution itself is not true either–and why
should the rest of us pay any attention to it?
Indeed, the theory undercuts itself. For if evolution is true, then it is not
true, but only useful. This kind of internal contradiction is fatal, for a
theory that asserts something and denies it at the same time is simply
nonsense. In short, naturalistic evolution is self-refuting.
Clash of Worldviews
The media paints the evolution controversy in terms of science versus religion.
But it is much more accurate to say it is worldview versus worldview,
philosophy versus philosophy. Making this point levels the playing field and
opens the door to serious dialogue.
Interestingly, a few evolutionists do acknowledge the point. Michael Ruse made
a famous admission at the 1993 symposium of the American Association for the
Advancement of Science. "Evolution as a scientific theory makes a commitment to
naturalism," he said–that is, it is a philosophy, not just facts. He went on:
"Evolution . . . akin to religion, involves making certain a priori or
metaphysical assumptions, which at some level cannot be proven empirically."
Ruse's colleagues responded with shocked silence and afterward one of them,
Arthur Shapiro, wrote a commentary titled, "Did Michael Ruse Give Away the
But, ironically, in the process, Shapiro himself conceded that "there is an
irreducible core of ideological assumptions underlying science." He went on:
"Darwinism is a philosophical preference, if by that we mean we choose to
discuss the material Universe in terms of material processes accessible by
It is this worldview dimension that makes the debate over Darwin versus
Intelligent Design so important. Every system of thought starts with a creation
account that offers an answer to the fundamental question: Where did everything
come from? That crucial starting point shapes everything that follows. Today a
naturalistic approach to knowledge is being applied to virtually every field.
Some say we're entering an age of "Universal Darwinism," where it is no longer
just a scientific theory but a comprehensive worldview.
It has become a commonplace to say that America is embroiled in a "culture war"
over conflicting moral standards. But we must remember that morality is always
derivative, stemming from an underlying worldview. The culture war reflects an
underlying cognitive war over worldviews–and at the core of each
worldview is an account of origins.
Biosketch:Nancy Randolph Pearcey is the
Francis A. Schaeffer scholar at the World Journalism Institute. Having studied
under Schaeffer at L'Abri in the 1970s, Pearcey earned an MA from Covenant
Theological Seminary, followed by further graduate work in philosophy at the
Institute for Christian Studies in Toronto. She has authoried or contributed to
several works, including The Soul of Science and How Now Shall We
Live? Her latest book Total Truth: Liberating Christianity from Its
Cultural Captivity won an Award of Merit in the Christianity Today
2005 Book Awards, and the ECPA Gold Medallion Award for best book of
the year in the Christianity & Society category.
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