So the second installment of my debate with
Eliezer Yudkowsky at
bloggingheads is now posted for anyone who is interested. It was great fun and I thank
Eliezer for participating in the dialogue with me.
There is a point I just wanted to touch on again related to the many ways we come to understand ourselves in the world. After 20 years of
practicing science I remain deeply enamored of its methods and the grand beauty of its worldview. I also continue to marvel at the ways other forms of human inquiry reveal other aspects of our nature and its dilemma. From poetry to painting there are many paths to illuminating the human condition. That is why, even as an
atheist, I became interested early on in the long history of human spiritual endeavor.
Isaiah Berlin once used a line from the Greek poet
Archilochus to characterize different approaches to
philosophy.
"The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing"
Berlin was trying to differentiate philosophies that saw the world in terms of a single defining idea (hedgehogs) and those who who drew from a wide array of experience and were
suspicious of overarching approaches (foxes). I would like to line up in the fox
category. William James remains my hero with his distrust of "block Universes" or block ideas.
The debate between science and the domains of spiritual endeavor is usually cast as a choice between reason and faith. As a atheist and one who is committed to empirical investigation I am not big on faith but I do reject the idea that those who are committed the integrity of scientific practice must also see reason as the only means to understanding ourselves in the broadest sense of the word. Within scientific practice it is reason and a commitment to letting the data, the world, speak for itself. But when placing science into this broader context of human being I think the other ways we create meaning must have a place at the table.
Its easy to fall for the false certainty that comes by fully embracing a single metaphysics, confusing it with all-embracing methodology, and then letting your membership in an
orthodoxy lull you in a false sense of comfort that comes with easy applause lines. Far harder is the path of embracing our strange complexity while retaining a determination to think clearly and feel deeply. But in our attempts to pass through the bottleneck of the next century I am convinced we will need all the sources of wisdom we can find.
Such, it seems, is the way of the fox.