Science, Humanism, and the Loss of Nerve.

Danny Kaye, in the persona of Dr. Ludwig von Shtickfitz, once stated the following bit of wisdom:

   How can you tell psychosis,
   which is different from neurosis?
   I'll give you the whole Shtickfitz diagnosis.
   You see, a psychotic thinks that two and two are five.
   (He's very candid.)
   A neurotic knows that two and two are four
   but he can't stand it!

We, as humanists, are pretty convinced we know that two and two are four, which is better than the rest of the world, which keeps on insisting it's five. For them, the physical, material, scientifically understandable universe just isn't enough. "This can't be all there is!" they moan. It always has to be physical reality and something. For them, two and two--what we can see, touch, hear, feel, taste, smell, and understand within the confines of the physical universe--can't make four. There just has to be more.

And so, with them, it isn't just the universe. It's the universe and god. Or the universe and orgone energy. Or the universe and your higher self. Or the universe and UFO abductions. And spirituality. And the ground of being. And--fill in the blank. No matter what, reality's just got to add up to five.

However, before we humanists pat ourselves on the back for not suffering from psychosis, I think we need to look and see if we aren't suffering from a Shtickfitzian neurosis. Norman Hall and I have been members of the humanist movement for several years now, firmly convinced that two and two are four. But we have always found ourselves wondering: are we really humanists? Do we really fit in this group?

This is especially troubling to us because, as of late, we have gotten the impression that, although humanism recognizes the fact that the universe is not "the universe and something else," it also can't stand such a notion. More to the point, we feel that humanism doesn't have the guts to say it. And because humanists lack the courage to insist that the universe doesn't add up to five, humanism is in profound danger of losing precisely what makes it worthwhile as a philosophical world view. As a result, humanism, we believe, is now floundering.

Let's look at some evidence. Does humanism have an answer to the criticisms that continue to be leveled at it by the majority culture? The last time the American Humanist Association held its national conference in San Diego, which was in 1981, Christian fundamentalists Jerry Falwell and San Diego's own Tim LaHaye charged that humanism was a philosophy of "amorality." Now, seventeen years later, the accusation comes from, among others, playwright and Czech Republic President Vaclav Havel. Writing this year in Civilization magazine, Havel describes the modern European and world civilization as the first atheistic civilization in history; and because of that atheism, it is responsible for a "blind perpetual motion dragging us into hell." What we have here, he claims, is a civilization marked by a loss of "metaphysical certitude" and a rise of "boundless trust in humanity's ability to embrace the universe by rational cognition." This, in simple terms, amounts to the loss of God and to a "loss of respect for the moral order extended to us from above." Such, he believes, is a disaster: "We have lost the certainty that the universe, nature, existence, and our lives are the work of creation guided by a definite intention, that it has a definite meaning and follows a definite purpose." As a result, we have a "crisis of ... much-needed global responsibility."

If Havel (or so many others with similar opinions) were here, what could we say to him? We do disagree with him, don't we?

We can show him our Humanist Manifesto II, where the first article says we find "insufficient evidence for belief in the existence of the supernatural." But isn't seeing the world go to hell in a handbasket sufficient evidence that the supernatural is necessary? Article 4 expresses that very trust in reason which Havel opposes, as well as trust in the "controlled use of scientific methods." Well, obviously science has simply gotten out of control. This year, scientists cloned a sheep. Next year it'll be "Oh, my God, they've cloned Kenny!" And all because of those autonomous and situational ethics mentioned in Article 3. Where is certitude when you need it? Dismissed out of hand by Article 2, that's where. And where is the lifeline to the super natural that is our only hope in this time of crisis? Thrown away in the name of separation of church and state in Article 9.

The point is, yes, we humanists disagree with Havel--or at least we did a quarter century ago. But why? How can we justify disagreeing with him now? Do we have anything more telling than "insufficient evidence"? Have we managed to pay up on any of those IOUs we wrote in Humanist Manifesto II?

Norman and I don't think so. In fact, we feel there is currently a strong feeling of retreat from even those IOUs. While the manifesto of twenty-five years ago at least speaks of principles and evidence, of science and atheism, today's humanists appear to be running scared from the need to challenge the culture at large on precisely those points. Worse, they even appear to be hungry for the approval of that larger culture, at whatever cost.

A quarter century ago, Jacob Bronowski saw the rise of New Age cults and psychobabble as worthless distractions interfering with our scientific progress toward a true understanding of who and what we are as human beings; he referred to it as a "loss of nerve" in Western civilization. A humanism that shrinks from embracing the reductive program of science as its own, a humanism that lets itself be dazzled by the pseudo-profound criticisms of science coming from postmodernists, a humanism that seeks religious allies against creationists by soft-pedaling the scientific naturalism and materialism that are an essential part of any honest portrayal of evolutionary theory, and a humanism that even doubts that science is at all central to a humanistic world view and its concerns is a humanism that has just as profoundly lost its nerve.

Do we humanists have an agenda of our own, or are we letting religionists and supernaturalists pick our agenda for us? Is biotechnology really a substantial threat, or are we upset about it only because the culture at large is? Is teenage pregnancy such a destructive force against humanity and humanism that young people who engage in sex should be classified as criminals? Do we still have the courage to proclaim that ethics are built solely from human experience, or are we so desperate for approval from the larger culture that we are willing to concede to Havel his transcendence? Is religion really an immutable, unassailable trait, a disease we must respect simply because the culture at large seems to be infected with it? Is Darwinian evolution just too atheistic to become generally known, and do we really have to wink an eye at the idea of a transcendent source for evolution in order to gain a place for it in the science curriculum? Do we take as given the claim that "science has no ethics" because that's what everybody says--or because we don't have the courage to point out the fact that science, based on the central ethic of truth-telling, is an ethical system? Is it true that our ethics need no deeper source of justification than an evolved pre-rational sense of horror, as the postmodernists claim? Do we believe that, without the assurance of transcendent origins and meaning, we have no way of holding each other to an ethical commitment strong enough to see us through the global problems of humanity we are just beginning to face?

What has happened? Have we humanists, too, turned against science? Almost half a century ago, Bronowski thought he saw a reason why science has never gotten its due respect as the ethical system it actually is. What we have been doing, he said, is selling the corpse of science. We use it, but we, as a society, don't even know what it is or care. We take from it what we need to solve the technical problem of the day but don't even notice the ethical assumptions and practices which made it possible to do science. What we have on our hands is a dead body, disemboweled.

If humanism begins with science, with the ethic of truth-telling, we have an answer to the Havels of the world. From the need to do science by telling the truth, freedom of inquiry follows. Freedom of speech, of travel, and of association follow. Democracy, tolerance, human unity, and mutual respect follow. Honesty, integrity, personal responsibility, compassion, and meaning follow.

If humanism abandons science, it will have nothing worthwhile to say. If humanists are going to be up to the job of providing a new manifesto to the world, we need to first clarify to ourselves what we think about ethics and what we think about science. And in reality, those are really the same issue.

Lucia K. B. Hall is a biochemist, artist, and editor of the San Diego Humanist, published by the Humanist Association of San Diego. She can be e-mailed at [e-mail].