Ideology in the Guise of Science
Ideology in the Guise of Science
Reviewed by David Grandy
Years ago while serving as full-time missionaries, my companion and
I were invited to talk about our faith to an introductory philosophy class
at the University of Missouri at Columbia. Since neither of us knew anything
about philosophy, we simply relied on the missionary discussions to make our
presentation. Only one member of the class was hostile, stating that we were
“intellectual midgets” compared to Freud and Marx. We took that
in stride, not knowing Freud and Marx except by name. Afterward, as the professor
and several students thanked us, I happened to glance at a book that the professor
had in hand and that evidently was being used as a course text. It was Bertrand
Russell’s Why I Am Not a Christian.1
About a year later, fresh off my mission and at Brigham Young University,
I borrowed Russell’s book from the library and opened its pages with some
trepidation. Before long I realized that I mostly agreed with Russell, but
only because he was attacking a crude caricature of the God I believed in.
I didn’t believe in that caricature either. For all his philosophical learning,
Russell had written a shallow, nonthreatening book about religion.
Richard Dawkins, a well-known biologist and critic of religion, has
written a similar book—The God Delusion. The book has gotten a lot of
advance publicity and is selling well, but for those who keep track of such things, its publication is
a bit of a nonevent. Here is another predictable salvo against religion from the world
of science. But it is not science: it is ideology poorly disguised as science.
Nor does its author grasp the nature of religious experience. Dawkins dismisses
religious claims after measuring them against a rather badly misshapen scientific
yardstick. This is positivism at its best (or worst): truth is established
scientifically or not at all.
Dawkins would have us believe that Darwinian evolution is the omni-explanatory
solution to all of life’s mysteries. This is an old refrain, one going back
to Ernst Haeckel, Thomas Huxley, H. G. Wells, and, in more recent decades,
Daniel Dennett. It is not science per se, but the dramatization of science
for ideological purposes. Evolutionary biology is a perfectly legitimate theory
of science, but like all intellectual constructions, it has its limitations.
This fact, readily acknowledged by those familiar with quantum theory and
Kurt GË˜del’s incompleteness theorems, has never really seemed to register
with life science enthusiasts like Dawkins. Their passion for universal explanations
harks back to an earlier era when Newtonian science struck many people as
evidence that the human race had finally arrived. Dawkins, wholly enamored
of Darwinian biology, is a curious throwback to that era; and he, like certain
philosophes of the Enlightenment, is eager to throw traditional religion overboard
so as to clear the deck of all ideologies but his own.
It is important to note that Dawkins is not writing in a vacuum.
He is replying to a crowd of thinkers—scientists, philosophers, and
theologians—who in recent decades have tried to harmonize scientific
and religious truth. “What indeed has Athens to do with Jerusalem?”
asked Tertullian centuries ago.2 Tertullian’s reply
was “nothing,” and Dawkins’s is the same, although for vastly different reasons. The goal
of harmonizing faith and reason is an old one, but there are pitfalls along
the way; and to his credit, Dawkins does a good job of pointing some of them
out. If we invest faith in, say, intelligent design, irreducible complexity,
or certain versions of the anthropic principle, all of which lean on God to
make sense of things, what happens when persuasive naturalistic explanations
This is worldview warfare, not science versus religion. Dawkins readily
admits he is opposed only to the idea of a God who takes a personal interest
in humankind and who therefore strives to bring off our salvation and happiness.
His God, if he must use the word, is coincidental with the laws of nature
and consequently perfectly oblivious to our being. This outlook is, of course,
not original with Dawkins; most notably it is associated with Einstein and
Spinoza. But neither Einstein nor Spinoza dogmatically and zealously asserted
it. Both took it as a religious preference, not as a weapon with which to
attack and destroy other religious preferences. Dawkins, however, is a religious firebrand
in scientific guise, and by trying to straitjacket others into his atheistic worldview, he does
science a profound disservice.
In the latter part of the book, Dawkins offers an explanation for
religion. Believing that only Darwinian evolution can get to the bottom of
this matter, he weaves an interesting story. But this is not to say that others,
working from different principles, could not weave equally interesting but
very different stories. The problem here is one that Karl Popper identified
decades ago: theories that explain so much and that seem to be immune to falsification
ought to arouse our suspicion.3 A piece of Silly Putty
can be easily molded into the shape of an elephant, a dog, a giraffe, virtually anything
we can imagine; but that does not mean that Silly Putty is the universal substance
from which all the world was created. It is merely a substance that reacts
easily to the human imagination.
Dawkins, it seems, fails to grasp this point. He never admits that
there might be other ways to persuasively spin the empirical data, to play
dot to dot with the events of nature. Rather, he talks as if Darwinian evolution
affords a uniquely unbiased vision of the past. Yet anyone who closely attends
to his explanations of the past notes that they become obscure just at the
critical moment. In this respect The God Delusion is exactly like The Selfish
Gene,4 Dawkins’s most sustained attempt to deal with our
biological origins. The selfish gene, he says, began as a lifeless unit, void
of intentionality. Eventually, however, it evolved into a living, purposive,
“selfish” thing, though Dawkins never specifies quite how this happened.
He can only say that natural selection—the mechanism that drives organic
evolution—brought it about. Thus, while straining at the gnat of the
selfish gene, Dawkins swallows the miracle of life that he is quick to disavow
in religious contexts. After getting past this hitch, however, he is able
to talk with great confidence, and his explanations come off as persuasive,
albeit for reasons just indicated. Many people, unfortunately, overlook the
leap of faith taken at the outset of the explanation (the assertion that natural
selection somehow or other brings life into existence) and uncritically take
that leap with Dawkins.
This failure to deal with fundamental issues affords Dawkins a great
deal of argumentative mileage. A case in point is his claim that natural selection
is not a random process. (He concedes the improbability of life originating
from purely random processes.) He compares it to a combination lock that noticeably
clicks each time one of the key digits is passed, thus allowing the person
turning the lock to quickly decipher its code. Elsewhere5
Dawkins puts a similar spin on the old monkey-at-the-typewriter
argument by insisting that a monkey could type out a line from Shakespeare in fairly short order:
each time the monkey accidentally hits a correct character it gets locked in, while
all the incorrect characters are immediately erased. Thus the monkey, completely
unaware of what it is accomplishing, never has to start over from scratch—the
process itself is self-improving. It retains correct characters, discards
those that are incorrect, and, after sufficient iterations, produces a fully
But for a monkey to do this, its typewriter would have to be programmed,
and who or what is the programmer? Dawkins assigns that role to natural selection.
So on the one hand natural selection is blind and mindless, and on the other
it is teleological. This is a contradiction that goes back to Darwin’s personification
of natural selection (he once described nature as “infinitely more sagacious
than man” and as an “all-seeing being” that is ever “rigid
and scrutinizing”),6 and it cuts so deeply as to shape
up as yet another leap of faith. Dawkins might deny this by arguing that each tiny step of the
evolutionary process gets locked in by virtue of its survival value, but it is by no means
clear that this is always the case. More fundamentally, one wonders whence
survival gets its intrinsic value in a cosmos initially devoid of value, which
is the kind of cosmos Dawkins posits.
An old adage states that to a man with a hammer everything looks like a nail. This, no doubt,
is an overstatement, but certainly to Dawkins any religious belief is something
to be pounded on by the ideological hammer of atheistic science. One of his
chief complaints against traditional religion is the religious intolerance
that flares up in such places as Israel, Iraq, Northern Ireland, and even
the United States. Granted, this is lamentable, but Dawkins’s own brand of
intolerance only exacerbates the problem. What is needed is not diatribe but
dialogue and an openness to new ways of thinking and feeling. Religious experience
may not make much sense to Dawkins, but, as William James would say, that
is because he chooses to stand outside it: “One can never fathom an emotion
or divine its dictates by standing outside of it. In the glowing hour of excitement,
however, all incomprehensibilities are solved, and what was so enigmatical
from without becomes transparently obvious. Each emotion obeys a logic of
its own, and makes deductions which no other logic can draw. Piety and charity
live in a different universe from worldly lusts and fears, and form another
centre of energy altogether.”7 Dawkins gives us
one universe or thought world, but there are many others.
1. Bertrand Russell, Why I Am Not a Christian: And Other
Essays on Religion and Related Subjects (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1957).
2. Tertullian, De Praescriptione Haereticorum 7.9.
3. Karl R. Popper, Conjectures and Refutations: The
Growth of Scientific Knowledge (New York: Basic Books, 1962).
4. Richard Dawkins, The Selfish Gene (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1976).
5. See Richard Dawkins, The Blind Watchmaker: Why
the Evidence of Evolution Reveals a Universe Without Design (New
York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1996).
6. Charles Darwin and Alfred R. Wallace, Evolution
by Natural Selection (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958), 45-48.
7. William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience
(New York: Barnes & Noble, 2004), 286.