Series on free will

In the coming weeks, I will be writing a six-part series on the topic of free will. I plan to sandwich posts about other topics in between this series. Here is a (tentative) list of post titles:

Intro to free will debate* (earlier post)

I.                  Free will and Determinism

II.               What compatibilism ought to look like

III.            Threats to free will from neuroscience

IV.             Threats to free will from social psychology

V.                Threats to free will from abnormal psychology
VI        A defense of compatibilism

VII.           Punishment and morality without free will

Part I: Free will and determinism

Could advanced robots ever make decisions of their own free will? I suspect there will be many skeptical that robots ever could attain such powers. Robots are programmed. Human beings are not. Nonetheless, certain philosophers argue that the actions of human beings, just like robots, are determined or fixed by the laws of nature and distant past events.

Determinism is a metaphysical thesis about how events unfold over time. To put it crudely, things happen because of how things were in the distant past guided by the laws of nature. Imagine a mile long chain of dominoes. Once the first domino collides with and knocks over the second, the chain will continue to move until it knocks over the very last one. The reason why the last domino fell was because of the chain of falling dominos that led up to it. The falling of the dominos was neither random nor inexplicable. Once there was a sufficient amount of motion imparted to the first domino, the remaining were knocked over because of the laws of physics (i.e. gravity). If determinism holds true in our universe, it is thought that the actions of human beings are just like the dominoes; a necessary result of past chains of events and the laws of nature. And if our actions happened necessarily, then we couldn’t have done other that what we in fact did.

A thought experiment, devised by the 19^th century astronomer Pierre Simon-Laplace, further illustrates why determinism raises doubts about our sense of free will. Imagine a demon that knows everything about the initial state of the universe. It knows the location and all of the properties of every particle in the universe. Additionally, the demon knows exactly how all of the laws of nature operate. If determinism were true, the demon would be able to know the outcome of any future event, as every future event would be the eventual unfolding of the initial conditions evolving in accord with the laws of nature.

If our minds are made up of physical stuff (e.g. neurons, biochemical processes in the brain), as most scientists and philosophers now believe, then even our mental states are determined by the laws of nature and past events. If our mental states are determined, then the demon’s knowledge would include every decision that you and I will ever make, and every action that you and I will ever take. The demon could have predicted, say, your choice of career, a billion years ago, and you had no power to change the outcome.

It may still be unclear why the truth of determinism would be such a big deal. Philosophers, such as Peter van Inwagen, forcefully argue that there is a deep incompatibility between determinism and our having free will/moral responsibility. 

“If determinism is true, then our acts are the consequence of laws of nature and events in the remote past. But it's not up to us what went on before we were born, and neither is it up to us what the laws of nature are. Therefore, the consequences of these things (including our present acts) are not up to us.” (Van Inwagen 1983)

We think that we ought to hold people responsible for the actions that they were directly in control of. If none of our actions are not up to us, then how can we be held responsible for any of them? Assuming that determinism is true, one might be tempted to think we are in the same situation as the advanced robot. Instead of being determined by the programming and design of an intentional agent, human action would be determined by brain processes, the environment and situations we find ourselves in, and to some extent, our genes.

Why believe determinism is true? Many go to physicists to seek the answer, but even expert opinions vary. The answer is thought largely to depend on which interpretation of quantum mechanics turns out to be correct. One of the most plausible interpretations, in my view, results in a deterministic universe. With that said, the universe probably is deterministic but, as others have observed, I don’t think living in an indeterministic (or random) universe would suffice for having free will.

Determinism would seem to entail that we don’t have the ability to do otherwise. Our sense of choosing some other path for ourselves would be illusory. Some take the ability to do otherwise to be required for having free will. But many others, myself included, do not. Alternative conceptions of free will (e.g. compatibilist) make it possible to be morally responsible, whether or not determinism turns out to be true. The upshot is that determinism might not be a deal breaker after all. But it ultimately hinges on 1) whether alternative conceptions of free will are legitimate, 2) whether they give us moral responsibility, and 3) the extent to which they are supported by reason and evidence. 

In the next installment, I will give a rough sketch as to what a compatibilist view of free will ought to look like. I will contrast the view I propose with the compatibilist view that Dan Dennett defends, and argue that Dennett’s account amounts to a kind of pseudocompatibilism. 

References

Laplace, P. S. (2012). Pierre-Simon Laplace Philosophical Essay on Probabilities: Translated from the fifth French edition of 1825 With Notes by the Translator (Vol. 13). Springer Science & Business Media.

Van Inwagen, P. (1983). An essay on free will.

Zombies

We’re all familiar with the kinds of zombies featured on AMC’s show “The Walking Dead”. Philosophers talk a lot about zombies, but not the kind that come after us to eat our brains. Philosophical zombies are hypothetical creatures that are indistinguishable from human beings (behaviorally and physically), but that have no inner thoughts, sense of awareness, or mental life whatsoever. Philosophical zombies talk like us, walk like us, and are even as intelligent as us. They also have brains and bodies just like ours. The only difference is that they lack a mind—there is nothing it is like to be a zombie. One of the big areas of dispute amongst philosophers of mind is whether or not such beings are conceivable.

Zombies were (re)introduced into the philosophical debate by the philosopher David Chalmers in his 1996 book “The Conscious Mind”. In his book, Chalmers argues that zombies are conceivable beings, and that our ability to conceive of zombies entails that that they are logically possible beings (i.e. their possibility involves no contradictions, unlike e.g. a married bachelor). Chalmers then argues that the possibility of zombies entails that physicalism—the view which states that everything in the world is physical in nature—is false, and that we should be dualists (i.e. there exists physical stuff + mind stuff). If there could be a physical duplicate of a conscious being without consciousness, then consciousness would be a kind of property that is not physical in nature. The conscious mind would then be something over and above the brain. Additionally, we would need some explanation for why we have consciousness in the first place. What’s the point of having consciousness if there could be creatures like us without it?

The major assumption running through the zombie argument is that consciousness is irrelevant to the guidance and execution of complex behaviors. One may interpret this to mean that mental states (e.g. beliefs, desires, feelings) do not serve a function and are thus epiphenomena. That is to say, our conscious mental states are just like the humming sound of a computer. They do not serve a purpose and do not add anything to the functioning of the systems. They are instead, mere byproducts.

One may very well want to challenge this assumption. Consciousness probably does have a function (Seth 2009). It seems to be a trait that would have been advantageous for our evolutionary ancestors, allowing them engage in certain complex behaviors, and to solve certain problems. At the same time, it also seems like we can conceive of a being that solved problems and behaved just like us without consciousness. Which of these intuitions should be rejected?

 I think the right move is to challenge the idea that zombies are actually conceivable. The philosopher Robert Kirk argues that the zombie argument commits, what he calls, the “jacket fallacy” (Kirk 2007). Imagine watching an infomercial about an extra lightweight winter jacket. The jacket is described as paper thin, contains one layer of material, and weights only a couple of ounces. Given that most winter jackets tend to be thick, well-insulated, and heavy, one may be rightfully skeptical that the extra lightweight winter jacket will work as advertised. In fact, it seems like the typical features of a winter jacket (thickness, heaviness etc.) are what enable the user to keep warm. A winter jacket without any of the thermal properties would not be able to carry out the function of keeping someone warm. Likewise, having a human without its conscious mental properties may not be able to behave and act like a human with consciousness. The assumption that there could be a zombie actually begs the question against the physicalist. The physicalist would insist that consciousness is like the thermal properties of a winter jacket, in that, it is not something that can be eliminated without some other properties being stripped away as well.

What are we to say to the dualist who insists that we can conceive of zombies? I would say that it’s possible to be wrong about what one is conceiving. There are a number of instances—well known to philosophers of language—where our imaginative faculties are led astray. Not knowing that Superman and Clark Kent are one and the same individual, one may falsely believe that it is conceivable that Superman could be dead while Clark Kent is still alive. Given that they are the same person, the death of Superman would necessarily entail the death of Clark Kent. Because we may be ignorant of certain facts, it is possible for us to believe that something is conceivable when it is in fact not. If certain physicalist theories are correct (e.g. mind-brain identity theory) it would not be possible for us to conceive of a mind existing without a brain or body.

Given that we have grounds for thinking that the zombie argument might be fallacious, I do not find it to be a compelling objection to physicalism or monist theories of mind. Nonetheless, I think there are better arguments against physicalism that deserve serious attention (e.g. the knowledge argument). In a future post, I will discuss some of these arguments and offer some of the physicalist responses that I find most plausible.

Works cited:

Chalmers, D. J. (1996). The conscious mind: In search of a fundamental theory. Oxford University Press.
Kirk, R. (2007). Zombies and consciousness. Oxford University Press.

Seth, A. K. (2009). Functions of consciousness. Encyclopedia of consciousness, 1, 279-293.

Abortion and potentiality

According to a view on abortion I recently defended, it isn’t any more intrinsically wrong to end the life of a human fetus over that of a non-human animal fetus (e.g. a pig). Some will take this to be an outrageous thing to believe, and hence, a good reason to reject the view I defend. It can be argued—on solid grounds—that the likely futures of the two organisms are relevantly different. The fetal pig will grow up into an adult pig, capable of experiencing pleasure and establishing social bonds with other pigs. But the fetal human will grow up into a person, capable of self-awareness, rationality, and a conception of one’s self existing over time. While these differences do exist, I will argue that they are morally irrelevant with respect to the vast majority of abortions, and that for the most part, human and non-human fetuses possess equal moral standing. 

At a first pass, in order for some action to be morally objectionable, it must involve unjustifiable harm or a violation of rights. It may be argued that the fetal human has a potential right to life. But a potential right does not entail the possession of actual rights prior to eligibility. On one theory of rights, rights require there to be a conscious subject with certain interests and desires (rocks can’t have rights). The fetus is not eligible for the possession of any rights since fetuses do not have any conscious interests or desires. Hence, there are no rights violated in the case of killing the fetus. If there is no harm or violation of rights in the case of killing a human fetus, what is morally objectionable about the action?

One response is to say that, much like in the case of adults, the act of killing deprives the potential person of a good life that it would have otherwise had (Marquis 1988). I think this analysis might be plausible for later stage fetuses (for most species). But I take it that you aren’t depriving a zygote or a 12 week old fetus of a good life, as such organisms are incapable of possessing consciousness or self-awareness. In order for the early fetus and adult human to be considered different stages of the same ‘self’ existing at separate times, there would need to be a series of mental states linking the two (c.f. Tooley 1983). The fetus—at least in its earliest stages—does not have the capacity for mental states or experiences, providing no way of connecting it to the mental states of the future person. Therefore, there is no continued existence between the fetus and the future person in the relevant psychological sense. Hence, the fetus—at least in its early stages—is in fact not a potential person. There are those who would want to maintain that there is a psychological continuity between the fetus and the adult human, made possible by the existence of a God given soul. The soul of the fetus and future person is one and the same, therefore, the fetus and future person are psychologically linked together. If humans have souls, then my argument would not work. However, we have good reasons—both philosophical and scientific—to reject the existence of an immaterial mental substance.

But what about later stage fetuses (where on top of the capacities for consciousness, pain and pleasure, an 8-month old human fetus is also a potential person)? Would it then be morally worse to end the life of the 8-month old human fetus over a non-human fetus? First, it is not true that all human fetuses are potential people. Fetuses with severe brain abnormalities (e.g. anencephaly) will never have a mental life. Second, there may be non-human animals that are persons (e.g. chimpanzees, extraterrestrials), and thus, the fetal forms of such creatures would be potential persons as well. If we are to make a comparison of a late-stage fetal pig and a human fetus, I think it’s plausible to say that the human fetus has a higher degree of moral value. But the property of potential personhood does not give the fetus the same moral standing as an adult, or even a young child. Just as there is a clear difference between chopping down a tree and smashing an acorn, there is a clear moral difference between aborting a potential person and killing an actual person (Singer 2011).

Since most abortions occur before week 13, the vast majority of aborted fetuses are equal in moral worth to their non-human fetal equivalents. There are of course exceptions to the rule, but the claim that it isn't any more intrinsically wrong to end the life of a human fetus over that of a non-human animal fetus, is true much more often than not. 

References

Marquis, D. (1989). Why abortion is immoral. The Journal of Philosophy, 86(4), 183-202.

Singer, P. (2011). Practical ethics. Cambridge university press.

Tooley, M. (1983). Abortion and infanticide. Oxford University Press, USA.

Moral disagreement and the quest for an objective moral theory

“Non-Religious Ethics is at a very early stage. We cannot yet predict whether, as in Mathematics, we will all reach agreement. Since we cannot know how Ethics will develop, it is not irrational to have high hopes”.   Derek Parfit, Reasons and Persons, 1984

Ethical theories aim to explain why certain actions are right or wrong. They also aim to inform us of how we ought to make ethical decisions. Instead of approaching the subject of ethics by reflecting upon some abstract set of principles, some just appeal the moral authority of holy books or directly to the God those books were inspired by. Some would even consider the appeal to holy books to be an ethical theory of its own (i.e. divine command theory). Religious texts may offer moral wisdom and sound ethical principles to live by, but philosophers have been developing ethical theories—without appealing to God—for over two thousand years. Out of all of the theoretical options, is it reasonable to think that one ethical theory should be preferred? That is to say, is there an ethical theory that is objectively true, rendering all other theories false? There are several reasons for skepticism.

First, there are some who think that without God, morality has no foundation (*This problem arises particularly for philosophers because most are nonbelievers). The idea is that without some kind of objective standard of right and wrong—independent of anyone’s opinion—morality lacks a proper basis. Without an independent basis for morality, nothing is really right or wrong.There is much to say about this, but I will only raise two quick related objections. First, depending on how one understands the independence requirement, mathematical, logical, and scientific truths may also lack an “objective” basis. If morality has an objective foundation, it will be like mathematics or logic, starting from rationally intuitive, or self-evidently true starting axioms. Furthermore, on this reading of objectivity, even the existence of God might not be sufficient for objective morality. To cover some of the same ground as the old Euthyphro dillema, what makes the standards that God commands objective? Is it that since he is all knowing, he can perform all of the necessary moral calculations to determine what is right and wrong? Is it that the mind of God such that no moral calculations are necessary, and that God just automatically knows what is right and wrong via some inner moral sense that is perfect? Objectivity can be understood in weaker terms. Just like Descartes has been criticized for his defense of a strong conception of knowledge (i.e. requiring absolute certainty), we can criticize certain philosophers (e.g. William Lane Craig) for proposing a conception of objectivity that is too strong.

Second, there exists lots of disagreement about morality. The existence of moral disagreement across different cultures and individuals convinces many that moral relativism follows and that there just aren’t any objective moral truths to discover. The fact that there is moral disagreement does not refute objectivism, as it could be the case that most people are bad at moral reasoning or are ignorant of the relevant facts. Just as in the case of when you find people disagreeing on Facebook about the answer to a mathematical equation, doesn’t show that there isn’t a right solution, people disagreeing about the answer to a moral question doesn’t show there isn’t a right one. Some people are just bad at reasoning or ignorant of the facts relevant to solving a given problem. However, disagreement that obtains when two parties agree on all of the relevant facts, and employ sound logical reasoning, does seem problematic for objectivism. Persistent moral disagreement is not just thought to be theoretical, but actual, amongst experts in moral philosophy. To be clear, the presence of moral agreement is not required for objectivism to be true. It is not as if moral claims are made true by virtue of a consensus. That would be a really weird metaphysical view. The idea is that a consensus amongst experts would strongly suggest that there are objective answers to questions of right and wrong and that its absence suggests the falsity of objectivism.

The late philosopher Derek Parfit argued that most moral disagreement amongst experts is illusory. It is often assumed that the major ethical theories (e.g. utilitarianism, contractualism, and Kantianism) are incompatible with one another. But Parfit argued that once the views are properly understood, they actually complement one another and can be combined into overarching ethical theory he called ‘triple theory’ (1, 2). Parfit thinks the predicament moral philosophers find themselves in is similar to those of several hikers climbing different sides of the same mountain. It is only once the hikers reach the mountain’s summit, that they realize that they were all climbing the same mountain all along. Parfit’s claims are highly controversial, but worth taking seriously. For if his claims regarding moral disagreement are true, then there may be a strong case for moral objectivism.

It may be argued that constraining the analysis of ethical theories to those espoused by contemporary English speaking moral philosophers may be unjustified. What about all of the other forms of moral diversity in the world? For example, Confucianism, Buddhism, Hinduism, and the views of conservatives in the United States, all offer contrary accounts of morality than those of contemporary philosophers. The psychologist Jonathan Haidt, has deconstructed differing systems of morality around the world into five or six basic values: care, fairness, liberty, loyalty, respect, and purity (3). Most moral philosophers, and political liberals, tend to view the first three values as central to moral theorizing, whereas religious conservatives tend to emphasize the importance of the last three. Haidt’s theory of moral foundations might show that there exist different starting points for moral theorizing, and that no one set of starting value assumptions is more valid than another. Moral pluralism, the view which states that there are several objectively true moral theories, might find support in Haidt’s work.

A response I find natural is to say that all of these differing value systems fail to stand up to the standards of rationality and logic. They appeal to a combination of false religious beliefs, the cultural practices or prejudices of one’s community, and negative emotional responses (e.g. disgust), all of which we have good reason to reject. The ethical theories proposed by philosophers are intended to be as far removed from prejudice and uninformed opinion as possible. Moral philosophers spend most of their lives developing objective reasons and arguments for why certain moral principles are plausible and should be accepted by any rational person. Since the ethical views espoused by religious believers are, for the most part, not well-considered, motivated by logical consistency, or backed by rational arguments, there is reason to suspect their beliefs about morality are mistaken. It may sound elitist to make such claims, but I think most of us would agree to the argument’s application with respect to most other domains of inquiry (e.g. science, mathematics). Scientists are much more likely to be right about an issue than laypeople who are completely uninformed. Why shouldn’t the same be true about ethics? To be clear, I do not want to say that the major religions get everything wrong about morality. I just want to make the point since their moral teachings were not based upon the same methodological standards as contemporary moral theories, we have some reason to doubt that they have equal claim to truth.

Assuming that most of the world’s population simply gets things wrong when it comes to morality, and that most moral philosophers are actually in agreement about the central tenets of an ethical theory, are there any other obstacles that may prevent the theory from being objective? One possibility is that aliens, very unlike human beings, may have systems of morality that are as well-considered, motivated by logical consistency and rational arguments, but that are incompatible with our “objective moral theory”. Here, the problem of fundamental moral disagreement resurfaces, but in the form of a disagreement between members of separate species. This would be a problem for objectivism, but it’s a theoretical possibility that obtains for mathematics, science, and perhaps even logic as well. We either could entertain relativism or pluralism regarding all domains of inquiry or we could maintain a faith in objectivism across the board and hope to find a consensus amongst all rational creatures.

A philosopher who, in my view, pioneered the path for an objective moral theory was the 19^th century thinker Henry Sidgwick (4). Sidgwick defended a sophisticated version of utilitarianism that proved to be influential to the great moral philosophers of the 20^th century (e.g. Parfit) (5). Reflecting upon the views of Sidgwick and Parfit have led me to seriously reconsider the merits of objectivism. While I did not flesh out either of their views in this post, I think there is much to admire about their philosophical projects, enough to spend several future blog posts discussing and appreciating.

References

1) Parfit, D., & Scheffler, S. (2011). On what matters: volume one (Vol. 1). Oxford University Press.
2) Parfit, D., & Scheffler, S. (2011). On what matters: volume two (Vol. 2). Oxford University Press.
3) Haidt, J. (2012). The righteous mind: Why good people are divided by politics and religion. Vintage.
4) Sidgwick, H. (1907). The methods of ethics. Hackett Publishing.

5) de Lazari-Radek, K., & Singer, P. (2014). The point of view of the universe: Sidgwick and contemporary ethics. OUP Oxford.

Science is not the only way to know things: a rebuttal to Lawrence Krauss

Epistemological naturalism, otherwise known as scientism, is the view which states that science is the source of all knowledge. To assess the merits of the view, one must get clear on what one means by science as well as what one means by knowledge. More than just an exercise in nitpicking, the task of sorting out adequate definitions is important to making advances in philosophical debates. In this essay, I will target some recent philosophical claims advanced by the physicist Lawrence Krauss and argue that he defends a view which understands science too broadly, and knowledge too restrictively. Krauss’s claims are not merely semantic; they are controversial claims about the nature of science and knowledge, claims that have been widely discussed and examined by both philosophers of science and epistemologists.

Krauss is a strong proponent of two closely related theories of knowledge; empiricism and scientism. Empiricism states that sense experience is the source of all knowledge, whereas scientism states that science is the sole source of knowing. While these two views are closely related, one could be an empiricist without endorsing scientism and vice versa. In a series of recent debates and discussions, Krauss has made a number of philosophical claims with little to no argumentative support. Among several others, Krauss has stated that “There are no such thing as non-empirical facts” and that “science is the sole source of knowing”. One might argue that Krauss's statements on these issues should not be taken as representative of his actual views. It's possible that Krauss might come to recognize that many of his statements were sloppy or mistaken, and that he actually holds views that are much more plausible. I don't buy this. Krauss has been very consistent in how he answers questions about knowledge and science over the years. His recent statements should, therefore, be taken to express views he sincerely believes. Furthermore, his statements about the nature of science and philosophy have a wide audience. He has written several popular books and has appeared in dozens of public debates and discussions with scientists and philosophers like. As a theoretical physicist, Krauss rightly recognizes the importance and usefulness of doing science, but I think he gets several things seriously wrong when he starts talking about knowledge and how the practice of science should be defined. 

For instance, take Krauss’s definition of science; “rational thought applied to empirical evidence”. Empirical evidence is clearly important for doing science, and so is rational thought, but science is not the only discipline that meets this description. For instance, most contemporary philosophers would be scientists under Krauss’s definition. One might object by saying that his definition is too broad as it captures many other academic disciplines thought to be distinct from science. But the vagueness of the definition also captures countless other forms of activities and practices. If we accept his definition, plumbers are regularly doing science because they need to make observations about pipes and faucets and make rational decisions while troubleshooting problems. Artists would also be doing a lot of science because they need to rely upon sense experience and rational thought to determine how they are going to create their artwork. In Krauss's own words, "we all do science every single day". Such consequences demonstrate the inadequacy of his definition. After all, a good definition should not be open to an endless number of counter examples. An easy way to remedy this problem would be to give a much more specific and accurate set of conditions for what 'science' is. 

If one understands Krauss to be stipulating a definition, then his claim is trivial. One could just as easily stipulate that philosophy should be defined as the exercise of critical thinking or careful reflection. Since we need to think and reason about what we know, philosophy is indispensable for knowing things about the world. Therefore, philosophy is the source of all knowledge. But I take it that these disagreements are not merely semantic, but a disagreement about what ‘science’ actually is. Like in his recent book on how the universe came from “nothing”, Krauss illegitimately defines his terms and then (ironically) accuses his critics of just playing with semantics. Playing with semantics to reach a philosophical conclusion happens to be a common trend amongst scientists writing popular books lately (Harris 2011, Krauss 2012, Wilson 2014).

With the difficulties facing Krauss’s definition of science, it is unsurprising to find that his claims about knowledge are subject to many of the same criticisms. Krauss seems to think of the activity of doing science as the source of knowledge. But science, understood as a complex intellectual activity, can be broken down into more basic components. When epistemologists talk about sources of knowledge, they usually have in mind things like introspection, memory, perception, reasoning, and testimony. Scientific knowledge is comprised of a complex combination of all of these. 

Scientists rely upon their perceptual faculties when they make observations of the world. They use reason to make inferences and deductions about what they’ve observed. And they frequently rely upon the testimony of their colleagues and scientists of previous generations. Once one realizes that knowledge can be derived by more basic sources (than scientific investigation) it is easy to see why countless instances of knowledge that are by no means scientific. Here are five examples:

v  1: I know whether I am experiencing pain, hunger or thirst (via introspection).

v  2: I know that I turned off my television set before I headed out to the store (via memory).

v  3: I know that my good friend recently got engaged (via testimony).

v  4: I know that “There are an infinite amount of prime numbers” (mathematical reasoning).

v  5: I know that it is wrong to torture children for fun (moral reasoning)

In considering such examples, Krauss would likely point out that they all involve sense experiences, to some degree, providing good support for his belief in empiricism. The problem here is that Krauss misunderstands the debate between empiricism and its opposing view, rationalism. Rationalism states that you can come to know certain things are true through reasoning. Rationalists do not think that you can conduct reasoning without having experiences (e.g. introspection). That would be absurd. They are claiming that the warrant or justification for believing certain propositions comes from the chains of reasoning themselves, rather than something you have to experience or observe. For instance, take logic and math. If you know that Tom is a bachelor, you can come to know that Tom is an unmarried man. To know this, you don’t need to go out and do an investigation of Tom or look at statistics on bachelors. It’s a conclusion that you can come to know just by thinking about the meaning of the concept ‘bachelor’. Tellingly, Krauss disagrees (timestamp: 20:50). He thinks one needs to look out at the world to see whether all bachelors are in fact married. We can observe that all bachelors are actually unmarried men, therefore, it is empirical evidence, that grounds that fact. I will say more on why this is deeply confused later.

Similarly, with mathematics, you just have to sit back and reflect upon the nature of ‘prime numbers’ and ‘infinity’ in order to work out why it is true that 'there is no largest prime'. To make the point more finely, if experience was what really gave you the truth of mathematical propositions, then you could encounter things in the world that might falsify basic mathematical truths like “2+2=4”. Strangely, Krauss, in misunderstanding empiricism, bites an unnecessary bullet on this point (1). In conversation with Peter Singer, Krauss has stated that if you were to encounter a situation where, say, two pairs of apples are put into an empty box, to yield five apples, you would have grounds for thinking that 2+2=5. Singer (rightly!) says that the rational thing to do in such a situation would be to assume that some kind of magic trick was performed, rather than to revise your mathematical beliefs. Your experience of the world has nothing to say about the answers to mathematical equations or basic logic questions.

The irrelevance of empirical evidence to fields that deal largely in the abstract explains why mathematicians and logicians have made great progress with just pencils and paper. (Side note: I tend to think that philosophers occupy a kind of middle ground between math/logic and science. Some are interested in questions where empirical evidence is mostly irrelevant (e.g. metaethics) while others, like myself, are interested in issues (e.g. how the mind works) that are intimately connected with scientific investigations.)

One might argue that since facts about mathematics and logic aren’t about the physical world, they aren’t bona fide facts. They’re just relations of ideas or conceptual truths. This is what some empiricists, such as David Hume, argued. But why believe that facts have to be about the physical world? What makes propositions about the physical world privileged? Is there a sense of objectivity that comes with science that is not realized in mathematics or logic? If so, what exactly is the relevant difference between claims about the world and claims about formal systems? A possible answer would involve appealing to yet another philosophical view, scientific realism. Unlike in mathematics or logic, the entities and postulates described by scientific theories are objectively real, independent of human thought. Mathematics and logic are just useful human inventions and do not bear on claims of truth. Judging by what Krauss has said about the nature of science, he strikes me as an ardent scientific realist. For instance, Krauss has stated “It is nature that determines what facts are, not people” (my emphasis).

While I do not have the space to defend such claims, I want to say that any proposition—a statement that is either true or false—is a candidate for knowledge, and that a fact is to be understood as a proposition that is true (e.g. 2+2=4). Therefore, there can be facts and knowledge about mathematics, logic, and perhaps even morality and metaphysics. In a future post, I will try and grapple with some of the deeper questions raised in these closing sections. Specifically, I will discuss scientific realism and determine whether or not the view is strong enough to justify claims regarding science as a privileged epistemic standpoint. 

Perhaps the take away message from Krauss's philosophical ventures is that he nicely illustrates how not to do philosophy, and demonstrates the need for philosophical rigor and understanding. Philosophy has applications not only within domains of study that are mostly nonempirical (e.g. ethics, aesthetics, metaphysics), but for both doing and reflecting upon science. As the American philosopher Daniel Dennett has aptly put it,

“There is no such thing as philosophy-free science; there is only science whose philosophical baggage is taken on board without examination." (Dennett 1996)

Works cited:

• Dennett, D. C. (1996). Darwin's dangerous idea: Evolution and the meanings of life. New York: Simon & Schuster.
• Harris, S. (2011). The moral landscape: How science can determine human values. Simon and Schuster.
• Krauss, L. M. (2012). A universe from nothing. Simon and Schuster.
• Wilson, E. O. (2014). The meaning of human existence. WW Norton & Company.

Applied critical thinking: Expert testimony

We often take the testimony of experts for granted. When reading the newspaper or watching a documentary program, it seems reasonable to accept certain claims, provided that they are stated by individuals who have the right sort of credentials. But for areas of genuine controversy, it would be unwise to just accept expert testimony at face value. If we are to take sides in an area of controversy, we ought to be able to explain why a given expert is right and why others who disagree are wrong. There are plenty of instances where experts strongly disagree. For instance, there are doctors who believe acupuncture is an effective treatment for muscuoskeletal pain, and others who believe it doesn’t work, nothing more than an elaborate placebo. In such cases, it might not be obvious whose testimony we ought to trust, especially if one knows little to nothing about medicine. Figuring out who to trust can be complicated and will likely take some time. Through personal experience, I have encountered many friends and family who are disposed to throw their hands up in the air whenever areas of controversy are brought up. How can we—as nonexperts—ever decide who is telling the truth? How can we know? Instead of adopting agnosticism regarding all areas of controversy, most of us, in practice, do listen to some experts and ignore others. For instance, we are more likely to accept the testimony and advice of experts who share our own views. Instead of trying to confirm the beliefs we already hold, or engage in wishful thinking, we ought to critically evaluate competing expert testimony to the best of our ability. In what follows, I will expand upon a proposal developed by the philosopher Alvin Goldman, aimed to help one decide which experts to trust.

First step: Sift out the pseudoexperts

Before discussing the problem of how to choose between experts, we need to determine who has expertise in the first place. The thought is that once we eliminate all of the phony experts, we can move on to the harder questions of how to decide between the genuine experts. Perhaps a sufficient condition for being an expert in some domain of study would be the possession of an advanced degree—in the relevant field—awarded by a recognized academic institution. For instance, an expert in physics would be expected to have a PhD in physics. However, the knowledge set of your typical PhD is likely to be highly specialized. For instance, a scientist with a PhD in physics may be an expert regarding particle physics, but know very little about astrophysics or applied physics. In some cases, it may be unclear which area of study is the most relevant to the issue at hand. Here’s one example. For dietary advice, one might consider a nutritionist to be the most relevant authority to consult. While nutritionists might know a fair amount about dieting and nutrition, a better source would be a registered dietician. Dieticians tend to have much more training in science and medicine than a nutritionist, and have to pass a comprehensive exam to become certified. Overall, they are more qualified to be making judgments about dietary claims than nutritionists. Therefore, with regard to claims about dieting, the relevant experts are dieticians, not nutritionists. Individuals who purport to be experts on certain matters, but whom lack the relevant qualifications and/or training should raise red flags. In summary, before assessing expert testimony, one must try to answer the following questions:

What does X’s expertise consist in?

Is X’s expertise in any way relevant to the issue at hand?

Once one establishes that they have found a genuine expert and more importantly, one whose expertise is relevant to the question at hand, one must determine whether or not this expert is trustworthy. Are there reasons to doubt his or her testimony?

Steps for analyzing the testimony of true experts

It can be unhelpful to look at the testimony of one expert in isolation. From the point of view of a layperson (nonexpert) most experts tend to be highly persuasive. To get a better sense as to how reliable their testimony is, try to find an expert who disagrees with them, preferably, an expert that has had comparable training and experience. After finding two experts that disagree, it’s time to compare what each of them has to say. The philosopher Alvin Goldman proposes five ways to determine which expert is more trustworthy. I will deal with each one in turn and list some of the problems these guidelines face.

“(1) Read or listen to arguments and counter-arguments offered by the two experts, whether in a published exchange of views, an oral debate, or separate defenses of their respective positions.” (1)

Difficulty 1: The evidence and/or arguments discussed may include esoteric terminology. One may try and listen to the arguments and counter-arguments but fail to understand or even misunderstand them. Goldman makes a distinction between esoteric and exoteric terminology. Esoteric terms are not only unfamiliar to non-experts; they are inaccessible to them. This may because they involve unfamiliar concepts and theories. Exoteric terms are unfamiliar to non-experts but can that can be learned and understood by novices without any specialized training. Grasping exoteric terms may involve a subject to do some extra reading on the subject, whereas understanding esoteric terms may require one to become an expert in that field.

Difficulty 2: Superficially convincing arguments could be made to support one side of the debate, but these arguments may turn out invalid or contain false premises. If one tries to assess the arguments and counter-arguments of two disagreeing experts, one better have a decent working knowledge of informal logic. The expert committing more logical fallacies possesses fewer solid reasons for their belief. But a valid argument is not necessarily a sound one. Going back to the first difficulty, non-experts might not be able to tell whether a premise is true or not. To an expert, a given premise may be obviously false and contradicted by lots of evidence they are aware of. But to a layperson, it may seem to be plausible.

“(2) Find out what the opinions of other (putative) experts on the topic in question.    If most of them agree with expert A, then identify A as your best guide.  If most choose expert B, identify B as the more trustworthy one.  In short, go with the numbers to guide your choice of favored expert.”

Caveat: When it comes to issues where the vast majority of relevant experts are in agreement, going with the numbers is a good rule of thumb. For instance, the vast majority of climatologists accept that the planet is currently going through a warming trend and that this is primarily due to recent human activity. Should we accept the testimony of climatologists solely on the basis of consensus? In short, no. There are some possible scenarios where it would be rational to doubt consensus opinion (e.g. Nazi scientists during WW2). As long as the consensus position seems to be backed by valid arguments and independent sources of evidence, it is rational to side with the consensus.

“(3) Consult "meta-experts" about experts A and B.  Try to find out which of them is the superior expert by asking people in a position to compare and contrast them.  Or people who trained them or have worked with them.”

The idea is looking for additional experts other than the two you initially found. They might be in a good position to tell whether or not experts A or B have compelling arguments, especially if they have nothing to gain or lose in the debate. Where can one find meta-experts? You’re likely to find tons of meta-experts if you look through the peer-reviewed literature, reputable periodicals, or even personal blogs. In today’s age, many scientists blog to try and educate the general public about their work. One could even directly contact meta-experts at a local university or one could reach out to experts through email or on specialized web forums. And if you're lucky enough, you may personally know some meta-experts that could weigh in on the debate.

 “(4) Obtain evidence about the experts' biases and interests, which might lead them to self-serving answers of dubious veracity (whatever their underlying competence).”

In some cases, there is obvious bias and conflicts of interest at play with a given expert. Whether it is some political or religious agenda, these factors need to be taken into account. But one should be cautious when discrediting certain experts. It could be the case that some of the testimony is perfectly valid, or that their bias or conflicts of interest played no role in the formation of their beliefs about the issue at hand. Furthermore, an expert may be extremely biased but turn out to be right. Therefore, before one discredits an expert on grounds of bias or a conflict of interest, one must have some independent reason to think that their claims are wrong. Conspiracy theorists frequently misuse such a guideline when they discredit all experts who testify against their favored theory. Finding a potential source of bias (e.g. government funding) for some expert, and then completely disregarding everything they have to say is intellectually lazy and dishonest. The implication is that all such experts are lying or saying misleading things. If it can be shown that either is the case, that would be the reason to seriously doubt the expert’s testimony, not from just from the possibility of a conflict of interest.  

Another source of bias can be uncovered by carefully studying the behavior of a given expert. Experts who dismiss alternative positions out of hand should raise red flags. I say this because most experts tend to exhibit a certain kind of psychological profile. They tend to be fairly humble, well-integrated into their epistemic communities, and they seem to be genuinely interested in the truth. Experts tend to be very cautious when making controversial claims and admit that their own favored hypotheses could be mistake. They tend to actively engage their peers in academic journals and at conferences, try and test their hypotheses, and compare the success or failure of their own predictions to rival theories. Commenting on the small group of scientists who endorse the 9/11 conspiracy theories surrounding the tower collapses, Noam Chomsky has noted that, “They are not doing what scientists and engineers do when they’ve think they’ve discovered something" (2). Having studied the phenomenon of conspiracy theories quite extensively, I can vouch for Chomsky. Many of the “experts” who promote conspiracy theories lack the psychological profile found amongst genuine experts, and seem to share a number of opposing psychological traits. For instance, many manifest an excessive degree of pride or intellectual superiority, they tend to keep within a closed circle of peers who share their views, and they don't even attempt to convince the general scientific community about their "findings". These individuals might even possess the relevant knowledge to assess claims of interest, but their psychological profile and behavior casts serious doubt upon their capacity to seriously engage criticism and to critically evaluate their own positions. It is for this reason that their testimony should be taken with a grain of salt.

“(5)  Gather evidence of their past track-records and apportion trust as a function of these track records.”

Gathering evidence of an expert’s track record may turn out to be a challenge. Good track records of experts may come in the form of accurate and specific predictions. One might also try to look through their publication history or get a sense of their reputation amongst peers. Another way would be to look at an expert’s track record is to see if they have subscribed to controversial or fringe views in the past. Some experts can just be contrarians, while others seem to be suffering from crank magnetism. For instance, James Fetzer, a well-respected philosopher of science who taught critical thinking for most of his career, believes just about every conspiracy theory. He not only believes that 9/11 was an inside job, but that no children were killed at Sandy Hook, that we didn’t land on the moon, and that Paul McCartney died in the 60’s and was then replaced by someone with the same physical appearance, personality, and musical talents. In the case of Fetzer, there seems to be some kind of systematic misapplication of critical thinking going on (at least when he is theorizing about certain historical events). Those like Fetzer not only routinely appeal to pseudoexperts, but they accept many demonstrably false or highly questionable claims, make a number of unwarranted assumptions about human nature, and are apparently unskilled at making inferences to the best explanation. Since critical thinking is really a set of skills, knowledge of certain concepts and strategies related to the subject is not sufficient for knowledge how.

Conclusion

I believe that if one closely follows all of the advice outlined above, one will be more likely to acquire true beliefs about the world. But it is one thing to propose a strategy that makes sense in theory and quite another to have the strategy actually work for most people. Certain facts about our psychological limitations (e.g. confirmation bias, cognitive dissonance) may prevent us from being objective enough to really follow through with such advice. Nonetheless, we ought to at least try to be as objective as we can. Given the complexity of the world around us, we all need to appeal to experts at some time or another, whether it's to find out about our personal health, or how the world works. If we are going to appeal to experts, and are genuinely interested in discovering the truth, then it's a good idea to try and track down the right ones.

Bibliography

 1. Goldman, A. I. (2001). Experts: which ones should you trust?. Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 63(1), 85-110.

2. Tuskin, B. (2013). Noam Chomsky has no opinion on building 7. Retrieved December 05, 2016, from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3i9ra-i6Knc