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Naturalism and the quest for certainty
Naturalism and the Quest for Certainty Kai Hahlweg In his paper, James Barham puts forward a model in which living things are conceived as nonlinear, structurally stable, oscillatory systems. He labels them "Poincarr" oscillators in honor of Henri Poincarr, who developed a mathematical formalism (i.e., differential topology and nonlinear dynamics) capable of modelling aspects of such systems. Those systems may or may not be alive; in any case, some of the properties of the Poincar6 oscillator constitute--according to Barham--knowledge. Thus Barham views the epistemic properties of living (and non-living!) things from the perspective of the "proteins first" school (p. 239). Knowledge is constituted by correlating non-linear oscillatory structures which are capable of undergoing state transitions with structures in the external world with which that entity can interact. Barham expounds in some detail how certain molecules (enzymes) possess the functional properties which make them prime candidates for being "epistemic agents." Indeed Barham states that there is "a sense in which all the structural properties of living matter that contribute to its functional activity have epistemic significance" (p. 239). Barham's attempt to fit the functional properties of the enzymes and those functions which we usually call cognitive into the same explanatory framework is most interesting and deserves further perusal. What is less clear is the significance of his model for evolution and for evolutionary epistemology, a question on which I will concentrate in the following discussion. Barham's "evolutionary" account is phrased solely in terms of individuals, yet individuals do not evolve. The realization that evolution happens to populations and not to individuals was arguably Darwin's most important contribution to evolutionary theory. We may disagree with some of Darwin's theoretical postulates and perhaps even more with those of his neoDarwinian successors. It is, however, hard to see that any acceptable evolutionary theory could dispense with this most fundamental insight, viz., that populations not individuals undergo evolutionary change. Yet Barham sails along as if there was no such distinction to be made and even declares proudly that "there is no need to draw a principled distinction between phylogenetic adaptation on the one hand, and ontogenetic and cultural adaptation on the other . . . . wherever the term 'adaptation' occurs in the text, it should be construed as including both phylogenetic and ontogenetic forms of learning" (p. 242). The relationship between ontogeny and phylogeny is fundamental and will have to be Kai Hshlweg, School of Humanities and Social Sciences,Bond University,Gold Coast Q L D 4229 Australia
Journal of Social and Biological Structures 14(2):174-177. ISSN: 0140-1750
174
Copyright © 1991 by JAI Pressl Inc. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.
Naturalism and the Quest for Certainty
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addressed anew by all who put forward new ideas about evolutionary theory and evolutionary epistemology. The challenge is, however, not to conflate those concepts but to find a new "post-net Darwinian paradigm" within which they acquire a new meaning. Let me, however, caution the reader from concluding that Barham is putting forward a quasi Lamarckian view of the evolutionary process. This would severely misconstrue Barham's paper and do injustice to him and to Lamarck. In fact Barham accepts all the basic tenets of net-Darwinism. He states that evolutionary novelty arises "spontaneously" and that "the ordinary netDarwinian account of genetic mutation comes into play" (p. 228). He even acknowledges that "learning [!] is a stochastic process" (p. 229). Why, then, does he claim that he is putting forward a non-net Darwinian evolutionary epistemology? The answer is that Barham disdains population thinking. He even refers to the standard Darwinian account as a "stochastic process, of less philosophical interest" (p. 228229). It is not disagreement with net-Darwinian theory, but doubts about its philosophical significance, which prompts Barham to say that "selectionism has played a salutary role in reminding us of the statistical (hence, non-deterministic) [!] aspect of the evolutionary process, both at the genetic level and at the population level" (p. 229). Thus neo-Darwinists need not lose any sleep over Barham's alleged assault because they are not being attacked. Barham's model appears to be quite compatible with net-Darwinism. It is instructive to see how Barham himself views the relationship between his model and net-Darwinian theory. He does not discuss the issue explicitly but it becomes clear enough when he introduces the distinction between knowledge acquisition and knowledge utilization. He claims that "selection works in the former case; the latter phenomenon must be accounted for by other means" (p. 243). The other means needed are "the notion of nonlinearity." Evolutionary theory is, however, interested in what Barham calls "knowledge acquisition," that is, the creation of evolutionary novelty which occurs "spontaneously" (p. 228); whereas the explanation of "knowledge utilization" is usually not considered to be part of the evolutionary framework. In fact even rather conservative proponents of netDarwinism concede that in the latter case an interactive or feedback model comes into play. I find it astonishing that Barham does not discuss any of those evolutionary models which appear more congenial to his own approach and which could have assisted him in evolutionizing his model. I am thinking in particular on the much discussed account by Brooks and Wiley (1986) and Collier (1986). Those authors propose that not only individual organisms but also species can be viewed as dissipative structures. Their ideas appear to dovetail with Barham's desire to demonstrate the universality of the nonlinear approach without forfeiting population thinking so crucial for evolutionary theorizing. Another possibility would have been for Barham to align himself with an account that views evolution as the evolution of goal directed, stability preserving structures leading to improvements in functional organization. Such a conception was put forward by the late C. H. Waddington whose model I have adopted in my own evolutionary epistemology. This population based model emphasizes the interrelationship between organisms and environment, the expansion of our niches, both physical and cognitive in the course of evolution, and an account of scientific knowledge in terms of functional hierarchies. (See Waddington 1975; Hahlweg 1981, 1983, 1989). The last mentioned paper appeared in a volume to which Barham refers repeatedly (Hahlweg & Hooker, 1989). It seems unfortunate that of all the papers in the volume he missed just that one which could have assisted him most in evolutionizing his model.
176
KAI HAHLWEG
Having discussed the evolutionary aspects of Barham's model, I will now turn to his philosophical claims. Barham labels his position "PoincarEan Evolutionary Pragmatism," and one would therefore expect an exposition and discussion of Henri Poincarr's philosophy. After all he is counted among the early pioneers of evolutionary epistemology. Our search for such a discussion is in vain, however. Barham concedes an intellectual indebtedness only to Charles Sanders Peirce (p. 206, 237,241); Poincar6 is mentioned only as a mathematician. This is misleading, to say the least. Pragmatism is a philosophical position and not necessarily connected to mathematics. Barham claims that he wants to "honor" Henri Poincar6 with this label. I don't know what Poincar6 the mathematician would think about the matter but I suspect that Poincar6 the philosopher would feel less than honored about the usage of his name for a philosophical position the relevance of which to his own is never even mentioned. Finally I want to turn to Barham's most ambitious claims, viz., that his theory of knowledge "is actually capable of solving the traditional problems of epistemology" (p. 193). Many philosophers committed to naturalism have attempted to tackle at least some of the problems Barham mentions. The "error problem" in particular has always been discussed by philosophers of a fallibilist persuasion. Popper's "On the Sources of Knowledge and of Ignorance" (1963) constitutes but one well known attempt to do what Barham claims for himself, i.e., to show that knowledge and ignorance have the same roots. Indeed it may be said that any naturalistic epistemology is committed to this view. This is, indeed, the reason why those philosophical positions are frequently referred to as being "merely descriptive," i.e., accounting for successful as well as for unsuccessful outcomes. Most naturalist philosophers would, however, not claim that they have "solved" those long standing issues any more than most philosophers would accept Popper's claim that he solved the problem of induction. Rather they will argue that naturalism defines its own problems, that indeed the traditional philosophical problems become irrelevant from this new perspective. Barbara, however, feels that naturalism has to propose "solutions to the time-honored problems of the mainstream philosophical tradition if it is to avoid irrelevance" (p. 194), and he sets himself the task of "closing the gap between the analytical and naturalistic schools of contemporary epistemology" (p. 195) (cf. Campbell & Paller, 1989). Barham promises us to ascend to "a higher philosophical ground from which to defend the position of naturalized epistemology" (p. 198). The reason why most naturalistically inclined philosophers including the present author do not believe that such a reconciliation is possible lies in the fact that traditional and analytical philosophy is interested in the justification of an individual's claim to knowledge whereas naturalism is concerned with the question of whether any knowledge at all can be found within a population (a society). Barham seems to be aware of this distinction (remember his disdain for population thinking!) and promises to amend naturalism so as to "provide a criterion for judging whether o n . . . [a] particular occasion" an entity is justified in acting on its beliefs. (Barham uses as an example a bacterium and points out correctly that natural selection cannot provide an answer to this question [p. 196].) In order to be able to evaluate Barham's approach we have to consider his definition of knowledge: Knowledge is the ability of some component of a biological function to coordinate the actions of the function with environmental conditions in such a way that the goal of the function is fulfilled [p. 204].
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Such knowledge constitutes "a natural phenomenon, which may or may not be veridicar' (p. 217). This "knowledge" he calls "knowledgeN" (p. 217); whereas "knowledge as understood by most analytical philosophers, namely knowledge that is veridical sub specie aeternitatis, he calls "knowledgeA" (p. 217). Knowledge N is related to knowledge A as genus is related to species. KnowledgeA--the certain knowledge of the philosophers . . . is the normal state of affairs, in the sense that it is the epistemic state most commonly occurring in actual biological functions . . . . This must be so, otherwise teleonomic processes could not achieve their goals with any regularity, and functionality--that is, life itself--would be impossible [p. 218]. What Barham is saying is that the viability of organisms means that they have knowledge. Most of the time this knowledge is veridical, sometimes it is not. The latter condition is caused by "a change in the outside world [which] may have the effect of falsifying a 'belief' which has always been confirmed in the past under conditions which are now obsolete" (p. 206). Barham proffers an account of why our beliefs may or may not be true. He claims to be "grounding the k n o w e r . . , in a physically-constraining and epistemically-transcendent reality," and he allegedly does this "by providing a criterion for evaluating the success of actions and the epistemic states which produce them" (p. 234). This criterion, namely the ability to recognize whether or not the external conditions are justifying the organism's claim to know (i.e., whether or not successful functional correlation indicates truth) is, needless to say, only available to an external observer, say an experimenter, who teases Barham's bacterium (p. 197). In other words, Barbara adopts a God's eye view in order to assess if we are dealing with genuine knowledge. It is therefore hard to understand why he believes that he is "solving the traditional problem of epistemology" (p. 143). After all, Descartes never denied that God could have certain knowledge. The issue at stake is whether or not the individual organism can be justified in its claim to know. Not surprisingly Barbara doesn't answer this question. Hence, from the perspective of traditional philosophy he is merely begging the epistemological question. Barham's "higher philosophical ground" (p. 198) is too high for most of us. It is reserved for divinity. Naturalism and the quest for certainty are indeed incompatible.
Journal of Social and Biological Structures 14(2):174-177. ISSN: 0140-1750
174
Copyright © 1991 by JAI Pressl Inc. All rights of reproduction in any form reserved.
Naturalism and the Quest for Certainty
175
addressed anew by all who put forward new ideas about evolutionary theory and evolutionary epistemology. The challenge is, however, not to conflate those concepts but to find a new "post-net Darwinian paradigm" within which they acquire a new meaning. Let me, however, caution the reader from concluding that Barham is putting forward a quasi Lamarckian view of the evolutionary process. This would severely misconstrue Barham's paper and do injustice to him and to Lamarck. In fact Barham accepts all the basic tenets of net-Darwinism. He states that evolutionary novelty arises "spontaneously" and that "the ordinary netDarwinian account of genetic mutation comes into play" (p. 228). He even acknowledges that "learning [!] is a stochastic process" (p. 229). Why, then, does he claim that he is putting forward a non-net Darwinian evolutionary epistemology? The answer is that Barham disdains population thinking. He even refers to the standard Darwinian account as a "stochastic process, of less philosophical interest" (p. 228229). It is not disagreement with net-Darwinian theory, but doubts about its philosophical significance, which prompts Barham to say that "selectionism has played a salutary role in reminding us of the statistical (hence, non-deterministic) [!] aspect of the evolutionary process, both at the genetic level and at the population level" (p. 229). Thus neo-Darwinists need not lose any sleep over Barham's alleged assault because they are not being attacked. Barham's model appears to be quite compatible with net-Darwinism. It is instructive to see how Barham himself views the relationship between his model and net-Darwinian theory. He does not discuss the issue explicitly but it becomes clear enough when he introduces the distinction between knowledge acquisition and knowledge utilization. He claims that "selection works in the former case; the latter phenomenon must be accounted for by other means" (p. 243). The other means needed are "the notion of nonlinearity." Evolutionary theory is, however, interested in what Barham calls "knowledge acquisition," that is, the creation of evolutionary novelty which occurs "spontaneously" (p. 228); whereas the explanation of "knowledge utilization" is usually not considered to be part of the evolutionary framework. In fact even rather conservative proponents of netDarwinism concede that in the latter case an interactive or feedback model comes into play. I find it astonishing that Barham does not discuss any of those evolutionary models which appear more congenial to his own approach and which could have assisted him in evolutionizing his model. I am thinking in particular on the much discussed account by Brooks and Wiley (1986) and Collier (1986). Those authors propose that not only individual organisms but also species can be viewed as dissipative structures. Their ideas appear to dovetail with Barham's desire to demonstrate the universality of the nonlinear approach without forfeiting population thinking so crucial for evolutionary theorizing. Another possibility would have been for Barham to align himself with an account that views evolution as the evolution of goal directed, stability preserving structures leading to improvements in functional organization. Such a conception was put forward by the late C. H. Waddington whose model I have adopted in my own evolutionary epistemology. This population based model emphasizes the interrelationship between organisms and environment, the expansion of our niches, both physical and cognitive in the course of evolution, and an account of scientific knowledge in terms of functional hierarchies. (See Waddington 1975; Hahlweg 1981, 1983, 1989). The last mentioned paper appeared in a volume to which Barham refers repeatedly (Hahlweg & Hooker, 1989). It seems unfortunate that of all the papers in the volume he missed just that one which could have assisted him most in evolutionizing his model.
176
KAI HAHLWEG
Having discussed the evolutionary aspects of Barham's model, I will now turn to his philosophical claims. Barham labels his position "PoincarEan Evolutionary Pragmatism," and one would therefore expect an exposition and discussion of Henri Poincarr's philosophy. After all he is counted among the early pioneers of evolutionary epistemology. Our search for such a discussion is in vain, however. Barham concedes an intellectual indebtedness only to Charles Sanders Peirce (p. 206, 237,241); Poincar6 is mentioned only as a mathematician. This is misleading, to say the least. Pragmatism is a philosophical position and not necessarily connected to mathematics. Barham claims that he wants to "honor" Henri Poincar6 with this label. I don't know what Poincar6 the mathematician would think about the matter but I suspect that Poincar6 the philosopher would feel less than honored about the usage of his name for a philosophical position the relevance of which to his own is never even mentioned. Finally I want to turn to Barham's most ambitious claims, viz., that his theory of knowledge "is actually capable of solving the traditional problems of epistemology" (p. 193). Many philosophers committed to naturalism have attempted to tackle at least some of the problems Barham mentions. The "error problem" in particular has always been discussed by philosophers of a fallibilist persuasion. Popper's "On the Sources of Knowledge and of Ignorance" (1963) constitutes but one well known attempt to do what Barham claims for himself, i.e., to show that knowledge and ignorance have the same roots. Indeed it may be said that any naturalistic epistemology is committed to this view. This is, indeed, the reason why those philosophical positions are frequently referred to as being "merely descriptive," i.e., accounting for successful as well as for unsuccessful outcomes. Most naturalist philosophers would, however, not claim that they have "solved" those long standing issues any more than most philosophers would accept Popper's claim that he solved the problem of induction. Rather they will argue that naturalism defines its own problems, that indeed the traditional philosophical problems become irrelevant from this new perspective. Barbara, however, feels that naturalism has to propose "solutions to the time-honored problems of the mainstream philosophical tradition if it is to avoid irrelevance" (p. 194), and he sets himself the task of "closing the gap between the analytical and naturalistic schools of contemporary epistemology" (p. 195) (cf. Campbell & Paller, 1989). Barham promises us to ascend to "a higher philosophical ground from which to defend the position of naturalized epistemology" (p. 198). The reason why most naturalistically inclined philosophers including the present author do not believe that such a reconciliation is possible lies in the fact that traditional and analytical philosophy is interested in the justification of an individual's claim to knowledge whereas naturalism is concerned with the question of whether any knowledge at all can be found within a population (a society). Barham seems to be aware of this distinction (remember his disdain for population thinking!) and promises to amend naturalism so as to "provide a criterion for judging whether o n . . . [a] particular occasion" an entity is justified in acting on its beliefs. (Barham uses as an example a bacterium and points out correctly that natural selection cannot provide an answer to this question [p. 196].) In order to be able to evaluate Barham's approach we have to consider his definition of knowledge: Knowledge is the ability of some component of a biological function to coordinate the actions of the function with environmental conditions in such a way that the goal of the function is fulfilled [p. 204].
Naturalism and the Quest for Certainty
177
Such knowledge constitutes "a natural phenomenon, which may or may not be veridicar' (p. 217). This "knowledge" he calls "knowledgeN" (p. 217); whereas "knowledge as understood by most analytical philosophers, namely knowledge that is veridical sub specie aeternitatis, he calls "knowledgeA" (p. 217). Knowledge N is related to knowledge A as genus is related to species. KnowledgeA--the certain knowledge of the philosophers . . . is the normal state of affairs, in the sense that it is the epistemic state most commonly occurring in actual biological functions . . . . This must be so, otherwise teleonomic processes could not achieve their goals with any regularity, and functionality--that is, life itself--would be impossible [p. 218]. What Barham is saying is that the viability of organisms means that they have knowledge. Most of the time this knowledge is veridical, sometimes it is not. The latter condition is caused by "a change in the outside world [which] may have the effect of falsifying a 'belief' which has always been confirmed in the past under conditions which are now obsolete" (p. 206). Barham proffers an account of why our beliefs may or may not be true. He claims to be "grounding the k n o w e r . . , in a physically-constraining and epistemically-transcendent reality," and he allegedly does this "by providing a criterion for evaluating the success of actions and the epistemic states which produce them" (p. 234). This criterion, namely the ability to recognize whether or not the external conditions are justifying the organism's claim to know (i.e., whether or not successful functional correlation indicates truth) is, needless to say, only available to an external observer, say an experimenter, who teases Barham's bacterium (p. 197). In other words, Barbara adopts a God's eye view in order to assess if we are dealing with genuine knowledge. It is therefore hard to understand why he believes that he is "solving the traditional problem of epistemology" (p. 143). After all, Descartes never denied that God could have certain knowledge. The issue at stake is whether or not the individual organism can be justified in its claim to know. Not surprisingly Barbara doesn't answer this question. Hence, from the perspective of traditional philosophy he is merely begging the epistemological question. Barham's "higher philosophical ground" (p. 198) is too high for most of us. It is reserved for divinity. Naturalism and the quest for certainty are indeed incompatible.