o one seriously denies that we can discern the differences between an imaginary child and a child. The imaginary child is a group of ideas, mental properties, images, a product of a mind. The imaginary child can be stretched, instantly relocated, and re-arranged without bloodshed. But a non-imaginary child, one made of flesh and bones, big eyes and chubby fingers, is not an idea. He or she cannot be stretched (too far) or pop into my head without serious damage to both of us. The imaginary child is of the subjective realm; it is dependent upon us. The child is of the objective world; he or she exists independently of us. These differences should be obvious.
If I create some imaginary child in my thinking, I do not then claim that it is in fact a flesh-and-blood child. I would be confused, in the least. Similarly, if I embrace a newborn child, right out of the womb, I do not dare claim that it is a product of my imagination (the mother just out of labor would certainly suggest another thesis).
In an analogous way, these confusions are the sort that the Darwinian wants us to adopt regarding evolution and knowledge. In certain moods, like ordinary people, the Darwinian assumes and frequently insists that knowledge, somewhat like a flesh-and-blood child, involves objective features -- truth, standards of justification, logical principles, necessities, universal properties, etc.
For example, in the book Taking Darwin Seriously, Michael Ruse, a philosopher of science and defender of Darwinism, at times assumes this picture of knowledge.1 He tells us that science seeks to understand objective laws of nature ("not. . . happenstance contingencies"[149]). In this,"logic constrains and informs the scientist's work. . . . You must not permit contradictory claims within your system" (157). Logic's only rival for importance, says Ruse, is mathematics: "Without such a form of reasoning, little could be done in science" (158). Within such an objective framework of knowledge, Ruse the epistemologist (not the Darwinian) can easily make objective judgments. For example, he can speak of the "essential validity of the basic principles of biological science" and devotes several chapters to "the fact of evolution." In other strong objectivist moments, he judges that "Creation-science is an extreme case of irrationality," and that the claim that "God is all-powerful and all loving" is "downright inconsistent," as an "application of elementary logic to overwhelming evidence [of evil] shows" (176).
Yet, in other moods (sometimes within pages), the Darwinian insists that knowledge is a thoroughly subjective process, somewhat like our imagination, and any so-called universal or objective features of knowledge -- logic, necessities, properties, etc. -- are merely subjective products of our biological propensities for survival.
Ruse openly aims to do just this. He argues, following Hume, that the laws of nature are not objective features at all, but "that the mind. . . reads this necessity into nature" (184), (thus making them the "happenstance contingencies" previously denied). Similarly, we learn that "it is just plain wrong to pretend that logic and its inferences stand above the struggle for survival" (169). Instead of being universal and necessary, "formal thought is not quite all we think it is. What is illusory is the objectivity" (173). But what of the "fact of evolution" and the absolute denunciations of creation and the Christian God? Are these now biological propensities, neither true or false?
On the one hand, the Darwinian plays the objectivist, but on the other he has to embrace subjectivism. Like the person confused about a flesh-and-blood child and an imaginary child, the Darwinian asks us to believe that the evolutionary process creates in us subjective standards of knowledge, but in the end we do get genuine knowledge, especially of evolutionary science, with "flesh-and-blood" facts and truth. The imaginary child produces a flesh-and-blood child (and vice versa).
To his credit, Ruse recognizes this tangle of Darwinian subjectivity: "This is a very serious problem for Darwinian epistemology -- the most serious problem. . . . Are not the very claims about Darwinian evolution themselves infected with the same subjectivity?. . . If our understanding of the world is a function of our evolution, have we any answer to the person who refuses to take us seriously?"(186; 199)
One of his responses to this problem is to openly acknowledge that natural selection is like Descartes' Evil Demon "who undermined all of our knowledge, even logic and mathematics. Natural selection does exactly the same to the naturalistic philosopher. And there is no escape" (201). Shout it from the rooftops!
On the other hand, he swings back into his objectivist mood and argues that "if everything we believe is false, then there are no standards of right and wrong, and thus the universal claim [i.e., everything Darwinians believe could be false] is meaningless. If natural selection in particular is false, then we are allowing usual criteria of scientific evaluation, and the progress [of science] argument comes into play, defending selection" (202). Thus, politely begging the question.
Ruse argues that even if Darwinism leads to subjectivism and skepticism in knowledge, the Darwinian needn't allow reality to disturb life, since the mind is such that "unreasoned optimism keeps us afloat" (188). That's reassuring. With such a breath-taking epistemological foundation, Ruse somehow concludes, "The case is made. . . . A century and a quarter after the first appearance of On the Origin of Species, the time has surely come to take Darwin seriously" (279). Quite so, but taking it seriously should be an exhortation to Darwinians to have the courage of their convictions. Evolution or knowledge? Which will it be? You cannot have both.
