title: Why scientists need philosophers
description: This is a practice essay, OK? Don't shoot me if it's no good.
pubDate: 2025-01-24

content: |
  I've recently been working at a
  [Philosophy of Science MOOC]([phil-sci-coursera]) on Coursera, the online
  courses website. Later on, they set you an exercise to write a short essay
  addressing how philosophy can contribute to science.
  
  So this is my punt. Life is too short to revise or, hell, even research this, so
  don't take any of this as my settled opinion or as my best work. Whatever. With
  that caveat in mind, it might still be entertaining at least, or maybe even
  spark some thoughts.
  
  ---
  
  Walk into a particular room in the Science Museum in Kensington, and you will
  find yourself enveloped in a cavern of ironmongery and miscellanea. The shelves
  droop under the weight of bolts, files, screws, bits, grinders, saws,
  protractors, clamps and pins. The inventory scrolls endlessly past you, voices
  reciting the lists of trinkets like an incantation.
  
  This is the workshop of James Watt, meticulously reconstructed from the
  original as it was left in his home in Birmingham after his death. This
  entrancing space invites you to imagine a tireless creative, endlessly
  tinkering away at his next contraption.
  
  And yet for all that - and for all his immense valorisation as the lynchpin of
  Britain's industrial revolution - Watt was reluctant to think of himself as the
  engineer everyone else loved. He aspired to be remembered not as an engineer
  but as a scientist.
  
  To understand why James Watt, one of the most admired engineers who ever lived,
  wished he were famed as a scientist instead, is to understand something
  essential about modern Western thought.
  
  In Watt's lifetime, scientists increasingly became the elite of society. In the
  nineteenth and twentieth century, this trend only gathered pace. We constructed
  our modern public health infrastructure on the advice of pathologists and made
  medicine scientific. We funded scientific expeditions to map the world, even to
  its remotest corners (in part to help us conquer it). We adopted radical new
  economic policies in response to scientific economic theories. We built vast
  infrastructure networks to communicate waves of invisible energy discovered by
  pioneering physicists, and built nuclear plants to generate more of the stuff
  by means of nuclear science. We even designed social programmes on the basis of
  scientific anthropology. By the end of the twentieth century, scientists were
  our prophets, priests and kings. Or so we thought.
  
  In the 1990s, at the so-called 'end of history', it was assumed that there
  would be no more need for social upheaval. Humanity had arrived at the ideal
  system of social organisation. And among other ideologies - secularism,
  libertarianism, democracy - an essential part of the package is that science
  was our ultimate and incontestible way of securing knowledge about the world.
  
  Yet now, that certainty is broken. Religious fundamentalism, whether Christian,
  Muslim, Hindu, or else besides, is politically empowered in many places,
  together with its rejection of science.
  
  At the same time, the myth of science is ever more punctured. The supposedly
  scientific West has increasingly come to appreciate that their scientific
  heritage also includes much we would rather ignore - phrenology, race science,
  systematic blindness to female bodies in medicine.
  
  Meanwhile, scientists themselves are noticing that their holy calling has
  turned out to be rather less holy than they had hoped. They find science
  pulled between the competing demands of truth and tenure. Scientific knowledge
  is locked behind the paywalls of exclusive journals, which even many academics
  struggle to access, never mind the general public.
  
  What then for science in the twenty-first century?
  
  Yet there is another story available. It starts with confessing that the old
  stories got things wrong in important ways. When we put ideology aside, science
  has not been on an uncontested march to universal acceptance since Galileo.
  There has been continual change, continual conflict, continual readjustment of
  our ideas to the changing demands of the age.
  
  In Galileo's day, it may have been a fight to establish that there was much to
  be seen by simply looking. As empirical observation started to prove its worth
  in the early modern period, thinkers wrestled with new problems: how to
  reconcile the evidence of Scripture with the evidence of the senses? How to
  understand how sensation can give us knowledge at all, granted that any
  observer may be vulnerable to illusions, tricks and dreams? And if that's how
  sense data work, what then for our mathematical or logical knowledge, which
  seems to already bind the world even before we start experiencing it?
  
  This centuries-long struggle culminated in the work of Kant, who in his 1786
  magnum opus, the _Critique of Pure Reason_, set out a masterful - if infamously
  obscure - system, which enabled thinkers to understand just how empirical
  knowledge might work.
  
  Yet two generations later, Charles Darwin lit the flame under new controversy
  about the relationship between scientific and religious knowledge. His bizarre
  and wildly imaginative theory of evolution by natural selection challenged the
  Genesis Creation accounts, and this was soon to be followed up with the theory
  of tectonic shift.
  
  Some said that where scientists contradicted the authority of Scripture, the
  word of God must always win. Others said that science alone had the keys to
  knowledge, and if what the Bible said couldn't be proven scientifically, then
  it couldn't be accepted. Some said that science and religion were two
  incommensurable attempts to study the same subject matter, while others said
  that they covered completely separate spheres.
  
  Gradually, all of these views moved to the extremes. Now, most people (though
  not all) agree that science and religion have overlapping spheres, and can
  inform one another, but neither the Book of Nature nor the Book of Scripture
  has the decisive final say.
  
  Now, in our post-Christendom Western context, it's more important than ever to
  understand how science and religion can talk to one another. Religious
  minorities - as all religions now are in the West - are vulnerable to the risk
  of becoming epistemic islands, cut off from the knowledge of the rest of the
  community, unless we can find ways that science can talk across creedal
  differences.
  
  We need, too, for scientifically marginalised communities, such as non-white
  people, whom science has ignored, or worse, to be more tightly integrated into
  science, both so that knowledge might increase, and so that the benefits
  knowledge gives might be fairly shared.
  
  In light of these urgent needs, today's philosophers are considering science
  not just as an epistemic problem, but as a social problem. As philosophers once
  established science as the bedrock of modern knowledge, so philosophers today
  have the task of figuring out how science can glue together our societies.
  
  Science has been at its most dangerous when it hasn't been questioned. At all
  times, as long as we practice science, we need to consider what it means, what
  it means to do science well, how it can generate knowledge, and how it ought to
  be used as a powerful instrument of change.
  
  And perhaps that might justify James Watt in his obsession to be seen as a
  scientist: since we can't get by just with practitioners. We need people who
  can see our practices from the outside and shine a mirror back on us. If we
  want science, then we need philosophers.
  
  [phil-sci-coursera]: https://www.coursera.org/learn/philosophy-physical-sciences
