I’ve noticed an assumption that underwrites a good deal of discussion, and one which I intend to challenge. It is the assumption that Darwin’s discovery of evolution by natural selection has shown that we are continuous with other natural species, so that the difference between ourselves and other animals is not a difference in kind, but only one of degree.
As a former Forum contributor once put it, we’re ‘apes on a rock.’ I’ve even noticed idealist philosopher Bernardo Kastrup casually say that ‘we’re apes’ in the context of asking the question, ‘why should we expect to have a faculty which provides insight into reality as it is?’
In taking issue with this, I am not defending any form of Biblically-inspired ‘intelligent design’. Nor do I take issue with the facts of evolutionary theory, which I’ve studied since childhood, and in which I continue to have great interest. Despite the recent discoveries complicating this account (such as the discoveries of new ancestral species including Denisovians and Homo Floresiensis), I think we have a pretty accurate grasp of the broad outlines of the evolution of our species.
Evolutionary science is one thing, “popular Darwinism” another. Michael Ruse has pointed out how readily evolutionary theory came to function as a secular worldview, supplying not merely an account of life’s origins but ideas about human progress and how we ought to live.¹ It is those philosophical implications that concern me here. ‘The ground-zero premise of evolutionary biology is that life is, in essence, a “survival enterprise”’ 1. In seeking to understand the origin of species, that is a perfectly understandable criterion. But interpreting it as a maxim is something else.
It may be thought to go without saying that survival is a real good. After all, its opposite is death or extinction. But that is not the question I want to raise. The question I’m asking is is whether survival really is an end in itself.
The will to survive is indubitably a fundamental attribute of organic life — arguably the most primitive attribute. After all if the most primitive form of life had not possessed it, then there’d be no living things! So to question it appears to fall into nihilism. But what I’m driving at is something else; it is the (so far as we know) uniquely human ability to question our own existence, to ask ourselves why we exist. ‘To survive’ does not seem to me an adequate answer that question; after all, as we just saw, that can be said for any animal.
What appears to be distinctive is not cognition as such, but the capacity to make our own existence and purposes objects of explicit reflection. Aristotle said ‘Wisdom begins in wonder’. And while the Greek philosophers had divergent ideas as to the reasons behind existence, I don’t think it would have occured to any of them that there were none, nor to doubt that the task of philosophy was to discern them. Plato’s dialogues are animated by the conviction that there is a true good, and that it is incumbent on the philosopher to understand it. It is, as it were, the philosophers’ raison d’être.
This is part of what was challenged with the ascendancy of naturalism. ‘Never use the words higher and lower’ said Charles Darwin2. Here, he was reacting against the traditional conception of hierarchy, the ancient mythos of the ‘great chain of being’. Science sought to free itself of such notions so as to restrict itself to the natural world and physical causation.
And while naturalists certainly feel a sense of awe before nature — indeed it is one of their main motivations — this doesn’t necessarily address the broader existential question, either. (After all, Richard Dawkins will appeal to the wonder of nature, but then in the next breath declare that humans are lumbering robots in the service of the Selfish Gene.)
And when asked if our cognitive faculties tell us the truth many will say that they must — so to provide us with a ‘survival advantage’. It is reasoned that the large brains of our hominid ancestors must have helped us navigate the hazards of life in such a way that we prevailed. So the answer to ‘why are we here’ ends up being: Because here we are!
But now we’ve arrived right back at where we started: that we’ve survived, and our intelligence serves that end. It can only mean more of what we have: more life, better conditions, technological progress — more of the same, in fact. Not that naturalism can’t envisage ends, but if those ends are in service of survival or adaptation, then again the question of purpose lurks.
I think this circularity is a consequence of something innate in naturalism. Which is that reason itself is understood in terms of successful adaptation. That it is, in other words, instrumentalised.
This is one of the themes in The Dialectics of the Enlightenment by Adorno and Horkheimer (1944):
…In the ancient world the concept of ‘reason’ was objective and normative. Reason was thought to refer to a structure or order of what ought to be which was inherent in reality itself and which prescribed a certain way of life as objectively rational. Human beings were thought to have a faculty (nous, νοῦς) which enabled them to perceive and respond to this objective structure of the world; this faculty could then also be called reason in a derivative sense. Even when ancient philosophers spoke of reason as a human faculty (rather than as a structure of the world), their conception of it was ‘substantive’; humans were thought to be able to use reason to determine which goals or ends of human action were worthy of pursuit.
In the post-Enlightenment world the objective conception of reason becomes increasingly implausible. Reason comes to be conceived as essentially a subjective ability to find efficient means to arbitrarily given ends; that is, to whatever ends the agent in question happens to have. The very idea that there could be inherently rational ends is abandoned. Reason becomes subjective, formal and instrumental.
Likewise from Jürgen Habermas:
What secular reason is missing is self-awareness. It is “unenlightened about itself” in the sense that it has within itself no mechanism for questioning the products and conclusions of its formal, procedural entailments and experiments. “Postmetaphysical thinking,” Habermas contended, “cannot cope on its own with the defeatism concerning reason which we encounter today both in the postmodern radicalization of the ‘dialectic of the Enlightenment’ and in the naturalism founded on a naïve faith in science.”
So the naturalist answer to the question of ‘why we are here’ is in terms of the sequence of physical and temporal events that preceeded us. It understands well why organisms like us persisted. Consider Richard Dawkins again, who, in a televised debate with a Catholic Bishop, said in response to the question of whether science could address the reason for existence:
Why we exist, you’re playing with the word “why” there. Science is working on the problem of the antecedent factors that lead to our existence. Now, “why” in any further sense than that, why in the sense of purpose is, in my opinion, not a meaningful question. You cannot ask a question like “Why down mountains exist?” as though mountains have some kind of purpose. What you can say is what are the causal factors that lead to the existence of mountains and the same with life and the same with the universe. Now, science, over the centuries, has gradually pieced together answers to those questions: “why” in that sense.
Not that I expect a pat answer to the question of why we are here; I’m not suggesting a formula or a creed. It is more a matter of seeking a philosophy that makes sense of existence in the grand scheme, that sees life as more than a lottery or the outcome of chance. Thomas Nagel puts it like this:
The Platonic sense of the world is that its intelligibility and the development of beings to whom it is intelligible are nonaccidental; so our awareness and its expansion as part of the history of life and of our species are part of the natural evolution of the cosmos. Without a religious interpretation, this view does not face the problem of evil, or the problem of whether the whole process is aiming at any result. But it does expand our sense of what a human life is. It seems at least somewhat less plausible to say that all sense begins with the contingent desires and choices of the particular individual – that existence precedes essence, in the existentialist formula.
So to return to the question of what makes humans different from other species, I am saying that at least part of it is the ability to ask this question: who am I? What am I? Why am I here? in some way that a mountain, or a bat, cannot.
- Evolution as religion
- Teleonomy in Evolution, “The Ghost in the Machine”, Peter Corning, in Evolution “On Purpose”, MIT.
- The Complete Work of Charles Darwin Online
- Critical theory - Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy
- After Reason, What Remains? The Death of Jürgen Habermas and His Unfinished Dialogue with Faith - ZENIT - English
- Transcript of Debate between Richard Dawkins and George Pell
- Secular Philosophy and the Religious Temperament