We began the day hopeful but quickly became discouraged.
Our hope came as we perused the day's offerings on
Inside Higher Ed, a web-based news service that most days provides the backdrop to our
SWNIDish morning cup of tea. Therein (in
Inside Higher Ed, not in our cuppa), a certain Alan Contreras, an academic bureaucrat in Oregon, offered an opinion column
advocating the importance of philosophy as the means of breaking the impasse in public and educational discussion between religion and science (note our order in those two items: we deliberately reverse the common order to dethrone science from default preeminence).
Now that's a great idea. Except that, in the reading, we discover that Contreras is not much of a philosopher. Hence, our discouragement.
Here's a line that epitomizes Contreras's problem:
Religion and science are in different families on different tracks: science deals with is vs. isn’t and religion, to the extent that it relates to daily life, deals with should vs. shouldn’t.
Good philosophy would help Contreras understand that that characterization lies at the heart of our failure to communicate on this matter. He needs a good dose of epistemology, the foundational branch of philosophy, to sort out his flawed way of describing what's up here.
Yes, science deals with what
is. But the issue here is to understand that by its nature, science can deal only with aspects of what is, essentially the observable or measurable ones.
Yes, religion deals with what
ought. But good religion doesn't start there.
It starts with what is, in areas that are by definition inaccessible to science, namely, God stuff. It moves from what is--who God is--to what ought--who people ought to be because of who God is.
We'll allow that Contreras's weasel phrase "to the extent that it deals with daily life" qualifies his constriction of religion's arena in a way that might excuse his oversight. However, we would insist that this qualification itself is problematic, as religion
is daily life for its practitioners. Contreras seems to view religion as something trotted out on special occasions and kept in storage the rest of the year, but that's another matter.
To be sure, Contreras unconsciously reveals that he had a disadvantage in coming to this understanding: he grew up in a Christian denomination that eschewed
is for
ought:
I was raised in Quaker meeting, where we had a saying: Be too busy following the good example of Jesus to argue about his metaphysical nature.
So pity the poor, young Quaker who speaks up in the meeting to ask, Why should I follow Jesus' example, and what exactly makes it "good," anyway? The answer he gets from Contreras: answering that question would involve discussing the metaphysical nature of Jesus, and we don't do metaphysics here, just ethics.
The sum of Contreras's problem is this: he doesn't understand epistemology (how we know), so he doesn't want to do metaphysics (describing reality) except through science, the limitations of which he doesn't understand because he lacks epistemology, and so he doesn't have a connection between metaphysics and ethics (what we ought to do), and so he confines religion, which he thinks lacks anything but ethics, to ethics alone.
What, in Contreras's lexicon, is "philosophy," then? Essentially, it is time-honored, secular wisdom that might provide some non-religious grounds for ethics apart from religious belief. Of course, some philosophy
is that, but as a whole philosophy aspires to be--and at its best is--a whole lot more: a means of figuring out what is true and having a reasonable assurance that our judgments are warranted.
For good measure, we'll throw in that this is why Contreras thinks it's perfectly possible to teach philosophy to high school students, objecting to those who say
philosophy is too hard for teenagers. Certainly, if philosophy is merely the Moral Musings of Great Men, high school seniors can read it and decide whether they like one view or the other, just as they decide whether they like clothes from
Abercrombie & Fitch or Hot Topic. But if they have to do actual philosophy, starting with
thinking about how we know and how we know that we know, it's the exceptional, precocious thinker who developmentally has raced past his peers to the level of abstract thought necessary to engage these questions. It's usually sometime after the freshman year of college that the brain's epistemology switch gets turned on. And frankly, for some students, even those who do very well academically in other areas, the switch is not connected to the power grid.
Contreras is right, however, that people who will teach public school--high school, really--need to know philosophy, and especially those who teach science. That is, they at least need a shot at understanding that science and religion are dealing with
is questions, and that science cannot exclude religious ways of knowing about things that science by nature can't come to know. Like, say, God (whom we like, and we don't mind saying it).
___________
*We're sending the Bat-Signal to Batman, a.k.a.
JB in CA: Commissioner Gordon, a.k.a.
SWNID, needs you to weigh in on this topic, as extensively as you are willing.