On Tuesday, I went to see a discussion chaired by the philosopher Julian Baggini (JB) which touched on various difficult issues regarding our attitude to mental health and pharmaceutical interventions. The key contributors were: Oliver James (author of Affluenza), Richard Bentall (author of Madness Explained), and Kathryn Ecclestone (a professor of education at the University of Birmingham) Further details can be found in the blurb for the talk at the Chelt Lit Fest website here
I am not an expert in psychology or in the scientific research which was discussed, but have read quite a lot about this kind of thing, and wanted to hear some different points of view. I have previously taken a course on 'Philosophy and Psychiatry' when I was at university which opened up many of these questions to me in such a way that I have remained somewhat uncomfortable about some of the ways we talk about mental illness and deal with unhappiness and depression in our society today. I also felt this was a particularly interesting issue having had some personal experience of the kinds of treatments, consultations and referrals you may be offered, and having worked in education and met many young people who in some way or other are struggling with life and seem to need some form of help.
By and large I felt the discussion was a success: fascinating and enlightening. Nevertheless, I would like to start with a criticism: there was too much agreement and too little debate. There were some minor differences in opinion, but on the whole I feel the discussion could have done with some dissenting voices or counterarguments. Although, if JB had invited a representative of Eli Lilly or equivalent, I doubt if the talk would have flowed so smoothly!
I will attempt to report the viewpoints of all participants in the debate as accurately as I can based on notes I made during the talk. If I misrepresent anyone slightly, I apologise (please do feel free to get in touch and clarify your position). This is not intended to be a fully academic paper, but an observer's blog, and so, whilst I have included some links, I don't intend for this to be a fully referenced article at this stage. I may add further references/links as addenda as I come across them, as and when it seems appropriate.
I have tried to identify what I saw as the 6 key claims that were made as part of the discussion. The first key point made in the discussion was by Richard Bentall (RB), a man who I have held in high esteem particularly for his work on schizophrenia:
1. The biomedical approach to understanding mental health has not really led to any better outcomes.
This claim is about the outcomes. In terms of measurable statistics, he claims, there really hasn't been any improvement as a result of our increased knowledge of genetics, pharmacology or neurology. The claim can presumably be supported with reference to statistics on incidence of depression, suicide, psychosis, etc. over the last 50 years. Without further clarification of what exactly is meant by 'outcomes', this might seem to be an empty point. But taken in its most basic sense it still seems a striking thing to say.
If true, it is quite astounding. To think that all the understanding we have gained about how our mental states correlate with brain states, about the chemicals and electrical signals involved in feeling pleasure, pain, hope, fear has not brought about a real improvement in the way we treat people seems remarkable. All this expense, all this research...and we aren't any happier.
Why might this be? One answer suggested by RB's further talk was that mental illness is essentially rational. One quote I remember from studying R. D. Laing at university was the famous one that insanity is a 'perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world'. He didn't quite say this as such, but I felt his position was that mental illness is ultimately explicable, in the sense that it is as he put it "a reaction to unpleasant aspects of life". The conclusion that could then be inferred is that it is quite difficult to attempt to make the reactions go away, and it would be better to try to minimise the causes.
Much talk then naturally went towards the causes or 'social determinants of mental health'. For example, the following were listed:
*Living in an urban environment
*The death of a parent
*Being an ethnic minority
*Being homosexual
It was argued that these are much more useful in predicting the incidence of mental health problems than genetic factors. The most interesting aspect was that this all tends to suggest certain politically controversial conclusions. To be clear, I mean that it seemed to me that a kind of 'lefty' understanding of society was being supported here (i.e. a Guardian-reading kind of thinker would be inclined to agree with this argument). RB stressed throughout the talk the importance of relative poverty, and he claimed that inequality was in itself a (the?) primary cause of the mental health 'crisis' we face today. He described the epidemiology of most mental illnesses as being the result of a "chronic experience of social defeat". At the end of the talk, they returned to this topic in responding to a question about 'what should we actually do about the situation'? And so I will finish this blog on that question...
However, the points raised were not all conducive to a typical 'guardianista' worldview. Oliver James (OJ) agreed that the environment is crucial, and stated emphatically that mental health is *not* in your genes. He also emphasised the plasticity of the brain, and argued that this was something we can see as encouraging, as improvement can be made even once our mental health has been damaged. For example, the evidence he mentioned suggests that sexual abuse of children can cause problems in neural development, leading to someone having a 5% smaller hippocampus, but that this may be recoverable (I'm afraid I'm not sure exactly how). However, he strongly emphasised the importance of parenting - a message that might appeal more to those political tropes about the importance of the family unit.
Although he did not specifically put down alternative family structures, I wondered if he felt that divorce and 'broken families' were a major cause of mental health problems. For example, he said: "consistency of parenting over the first 6 years of a child's life sets the electrochemical thermostat". A single parent could provide this consistency better than a household with an unhappy, violent or miserable marriage at its heart, of course. But one of his suggestions at the end of the discussion seemed to promote a more traditional model for family life...
My thought is that whilst glad that these social issues were emphasised, I am not inclined to give up hope on better understanding of the biomedical aspects of happiness. For example, our grasp on Alzheimer's and schizophrenia seems better in the context of this kind of research. e.g this site. Greater scientific understanding of our genetics, pharmacology and neurology can't be a bad thing in itself. However, we should certainly be wary of how reliable the knowledge is, how it is used, and most certainly by whom...
2. There is very little evidence that antidepressants work better than a placebo (and a lot showing that they work about the same as a placebo).
This part of my blog should largely be full of data. Data that I should go and seek online. I should go and read it all for myself...
But I haven't. Yet.
Have you?
I presume Richard Bentall has. He has access to this kind of information, and the time and technical expertise to understand it and analyse it. And I doubt he has an irrational vendetta against pharmaceutical companies. It's possible that he is biased against them for some ideological reason, but I think it's more likely that he's right.
The problem with this conclusion is that it doesn't tally very well with the personal experience of people who feel that the drug has worked for them. They are fairly sure that it was more than placebo. For example, a friend of mine says they had a 'definite chemical imbalance' and that 'without a shadow of a doubt' antidepressants 'saved his life'. My own personal experience is less conclusive, and so I'll leave it to one side.
If they don't work, why on earth are they so prevalent? One possibility is discussed below as point 3. Another possibility is that people who are suffering want to be validated in this way by having a clear response from the doctor. The 'label' or endorsement that such treatment provides somehow seems more satisfactory, perhaps? The doctors, in turn, don't want to feel unable to help, they want to have a clear response that makes their patients go away satisfied. In discussing the tripling of antidepressant prescriptions (I didn't note down over what period, sorry) RB comments that "the main function of such prescriptions is to get someone out of a GP surgery".
[This space is for good links to data... (pharma companies / opponents please feel free to send me a link!)]
3. Pharmaceutical companies are engaged in a massive and profitable deception of the masses.
Oliver James (OJ) agreed with RB. Whilst he admits to not being part of the academic community as RB is, he is clearly well read on the issue. He says the drug companies are essentially guilty of a "deliberate conspiracy". Simply put, they are lying about the efficacy of these drugs.
Why? That part is easy. The conspiracy theorist here doesn't have much work to do... Because they make lots of money out of it. Big pharma companies are not popular. They make billions of dollars. And they don't seem keen enough to get involved in providing cheaper more affordable drugs in the developing world. It's easy to see them as enemies.
But this relies on the belief that a number of people are conspiring. In the modern era, it's easy to imagine CEOs as wicked people. Some of the tax-avoiding, selfish, greedy stereotypes we might already have had have been recently amply fuelled by Mitt Romney's kind of men: Cooperman and co. They argue that they have been unfairly demonised by Obama's rhetoric and the Occupy movement for example. They don't do themselves any favours, but one wonders whether they really care what we think of them as long as they don't get taxed too much. But I digress... maybe they have been demonised too much? Would they actually engage in such a massive deception? Are they that bad? I like to think the best of people, but I'm sad to say that I fear they may be. But they would have to be putting pressure on their employees and scientists to go along with this and manage to avoid whistleblowers. Furthermore, they would have to avoid major resistance from groups of concerned doctors, academics, etc. This kind of conspiracy is certainly possible, given the common tendency of many people towards silence or apathy. After all, people who need a job and/or want a quiet life can be pressured in various ways, not necessarily overtly. But, despite all these concerns, it still seems hard for me to believe there has been such a deliberate deception of the sort implied. I'm not generally a fan of conspiracy theories...
How?
The key point here, is that they don't have to falsify any data. They simply withhold information. Ben Goldacre has raised the issue before about the suppression of clinical trial data that does not promote the drug. This obviously leaves the public short of the full facts and distorts the evidence in their favour. A brief google search of 'suppression of clinical trial data' yields thousands of hits. According to one particularly thorough analysis of the problem, ‘the ideal solution to publication bias is the prospective, universal registration of all studies at their inception’. I think transparency of such data is a moral and legal imperative, and would urge you to support Ben's campaign. In a recent article, he writes:
"It's a cultural blind spot that comes about, I think, because the misconduct arises from a slightly diffused network of failure. So in some cases there will be obsessive, evil people at the centre, with full panoramic knowledge of everything that's happening, stage managing it. In other cases, you'll have individuals in organisations, maybe quite junior, they've got a trial with a negative result, nobody's enthusiastic about putting it out there, and to that one researcher, not publishing a paper intuitively doesn't feel the same as deleting some data points in a study, even if the end product is the same, in terms of the impact on doctors' and patients' knowledge of the risks and benefits.
That's why I think it's really disappointing that nobody, not the Royal Colleges, the Academy of Medical Sciences, the British Pharmacology Society, the British Medical Association, none of these organisations have stood up and said: selective non-publication of unflattering trial data is research misconduct, and if you do it you will be booted out. And I think they really urgently should."
(Update: 12/10/12: Ben Goldacre gives some reason for optimism in the case of one big pharma company GlaxoSmithKline, who seem to be cleaning up their act, but warns that there has not been a good history of compliance, despite similar promises from the industry in the past.)
Regardless of whether point 2 is actually correct, we all deserve a society where science is used for the benefit of all, and not abused for profit. There is a major issue of trust here. We rely on scientists' conclusions when we board a plane, ingest a pill or teach children about biology. The damage done to our society is hard to calculate. This is a bigger issue than simple deception and fraudulent profit making. Particularly because these drugs are not harmless. By their own admission, they cause some minor negative side effects, such as increased acne. But that is at the very very least. Which leads on to the next point...
4. Many medications provided for mental health problems have severe side effects that may be much worse than the problem they aim to treat, and even the minor side effects may be enough to worsen the problem more than any benefit they provide.
There isn't actually a lot to say here. Simply put, when a drug that is marketed to treat depression has been associated with causing suicidal feelings, something isn't right. Hallucinations, panic attacks... if you were depressed before, this is the opposite of progress. Also, things such as higher cholesterol or potential serious liver damage are not going to lessen your worries. And as OJ emphasised, impotence must surely be one of the most crushing things for a young man to deal with in such a situation.
So, the drugs are not harmless. But does the benefit outweigh the downsides? That's hard to judge. It's important not to overstate the case, as doing so is liable to minimise the seriousness of the problems that led the patient to seek help. A patient who is suffering from sufficiently severe mental problems is likely to say they'd much rather have high cholesterol. But of course, if the problems are vaguer, and the improvements that these drugs statistically offer is negligible, it seems likely that a reviewer would come to the conclusion that we should stop their usage.
But it isn't that simple. People who are using these treatments may well fear that if they stop they will go backwards. And whilst dismissing drugs that are allegedly 'no better than placebo' seems wise as first, it tends to forget how very powerful a placebo can be! (I am tempted here to make an analogy- though I'm not sure how good it is- with religious believers who think that they couldn't survive without their faith. They are liable to claim they would spiral into wild crimes and total despair. Mostly, I doubt it, but what if they're right?!)
In the open questions, one of the audience members asked about patients for whom drugs seem clearly to be working, and gave the example of major delusions. RB responded, being one of his specialist fields, pointing out that the statistics for anti-psychotics are different from antidepressants. He argued that in 25% of cases, anti-psychotics show a clear and marked benefit, so they shouldn't be stopped. (Though, to me, this 25% doesn't actually sound very good! It's obviously not a total failure - every one person that is helped is worthwhile - but 3/4 of patients are by this logic getting no clinical benefit from anti-psychotics.) The further issue here, though, is whether the "grey unrewarding world" described by the 25% 'successful' users of such drugs is better than the 'pharmaceutically untreated' alternative.
Ethically, it seems dubious. Again, the politics involved are suspect. We are talking here about the sedation of people who society deems to be different in some way of thinking. And it can hardly claim to be an objective judgment, as traditionally, religious people (if they are of the right flavour) tend to avoid this stigmatization, despite often believing all sorts of unusual (and sometimes, frankly, psychotic) things. These people, nevertheless, may be the most creative, the most insightful or the most sensitive in our society. They may enrich our community. We may find some of their beliefs frightening, offensive, wacky, etc, but unless they pose a clear and present risk to a community, why are they effectively being silenced? One thinks of Aldous Huxley's 'soma' and other dystopic visions.
There was a lot more discussed. I haven't begun to mention any of the points raised by Kathryn Ecclestone (KE), but I will leave these further points for a separate posting. In particular, I would like to comment on the claims I have numbered as points 5 & 6 below:
5. The medicalised language used about everyday problems (e.g. describing a tendency to misbehave as a 'conduct disorder') builds a panic that does not help society as a whole or the individuals suffering.
6. So-called 'positive psychology' is largely a load of cabbage, stemming from a simplistic notion of happiness.
Conclusions: What should we actually do about the situation?
So, what did the panel have to say about what policies might be put in place?
One audience member wanted to make her point about the importance of good nutrition. No one had much to say about that, although JB agreed that physical health and decent food would help.
RB focused on social inequality. A discussion developed about balancing social mobility with realistic ambitions about what people can achieve. The emphasis was on expectations and the relativity of subjective wellbeing. OJ felt that, to take one controversial example, Obama was not a realistic role model for most African Americans, (given his unusual and privileged upbringing). Until the opportunities for ordinary black people are improved, it could be harmful to see him do so well, if it makes people think they should be doing much better than they are. That is, conspicuous success might blind people to the obstacles that they actually face. (I thought myself of things such as the national lottery and X-factor, which hold the 'american dream' out apparently tantalisingly closer than ever before). Meanwhile, the gap between rich and poor has widened, and social mobility has arguably decreased since the 60s. No one wants to lower aspirations, but OJ argued that ultimately it is our expectations that largely determine our subjective wellbeing.
KE focused on education. The other participants enthusiastically endorsed its importance, and the crowd seemed to nod more vigorously at this point than at any other in the discussion. But whilst every political party wants to improve education, how to actually improve it is another matter. (I would suggest that taking money out of education provision isn't a good idea for a start, but then again I'm a teacher, so I would say that, right?) Let's just all agree it is crucial, OK?
Perhaps the most specific and most interesting suggestion made was by OJ. He argued that governments should pay for one parent to stay at home for a much longer period. (I think he referenced Austria at this point). I would like to have asked more about this suggestion - (what evidence? how long for? does this only apply to two-parent families?) and so on. His most important overall claim seems to be that the most crucial element in mental health is love, particularly stable and consistent parental love.
So, what do you all think about all that?
Thursday 11 October 2012
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Meeting an old friend at the Cheltenham Literature Festival
Decided to resurrect this rarely-used blog to write a little about stuff this year at the Cheltenham literature festival.that really makes me think. Firstly, on a personal note, it was great to catch up with an old friend who I haven't seen since primary school. (For those of you who don't know me: that's over 20 years ago!) It was a real pleasure to chat to him, and I found the experience quite inspiring (for a start: I'm here writing properly again for the first time in a while).
A reflection on this experience: I really had little idea what Alex was going to be like anymore, for several reasons: 1) We haven't been in touch until very recently (through a social network) 2) at the age of 11, how much can we know about one another? I think I was less cluttered by stereotypes and preconceptions, but in that admirable state of innocence, are we also less able to make the kinds of judgements about someone's character, background etc. that we find so natural to make as adults? 3) A lot of our adult identity is worked out gradually through our teenage years, and much of it is shaped by our pubescence- not just our physique and sexuality. 4) my memory of those years is pretty poor (Alex, by contrast, was able to recall some scenes from 'back then' with astonishing vividness).
In short, Alex could have become in the interim years a Marxist, a lawyer, a convict, a 6 foot rugby player, a rapper, or a ballet dancer. He could have left school at 16 or be about to take a second PhD.
As it happens, he turned out to be highly intelligent, interested in philosophy, and an accomplished artist and talented illustrator who is actually responsible for the Cheltenham festival artwork!
Thursday 12 July 2012
A rhyme about God's own fodder.
My bread is ready, I've buttered it up, I'm getting excited, I'm hungry as tup!
I've sliced up red pepper, some lettuce for crunch, but can't wait much more, it's been ages since lunch.
The smell is delicious; the anticipation! Now come on and cook you naughty old bacon!
I've sliced up red pepper, some lettuce for crunch, but can't wait much more, it's been ages since lunch.
The smell is delicious; the anticipation! Now come on and cook you naughty old bacon!
Thursday 3 May 2012
The Value of 'Divine' Revelation
Among many philosophers today, religious fundamentalism is seen as an easy target. Dawkins, for example, has been criticised for focusing too much on 'extreme' forms of religion in his critique of faith in the God Delusion. Those who do so, mean to imply that there are more sophisticated faith positions, other attitudes to scriptures more worthy of discussion. I think they are right, though I understand why Dawkins feels that the simpler hardline literalist needs to be tackled, especially as it seems (to me) that such attitudes are too widespread to be ignored, and those who espouse them are increasingly politically active. Meanwhile, it seems, more moderate traditions, and more 'educated' strands of faith are dwindling in influence. If every man of faith were as erudite, subtle and thoughtful as the Archbishop of Canterbury, I doubt that atheists would have much to grumble about. The charming 'debate' between Dawkins and Rowan Williams I think is an ample illustration of this - (if you are interested in the conflict between religion and science on the nature of life, I recommend taking the time to watch it).
However, I am of the opinion that many of these 'non-extremist' defenders of religion do not go far enough. Whilst seeking to distinguish themselves from the 'unsophisticates' lampooned by the atheists - nonetheless they are often, in my view, too conservative and too attached to a certain kind of idolization of the 'word'. I will attempt to argue for the value of a more liberal approach, and that these conservative views are defending a primitive or inferior view of revelation.
Although the word 'fundamentalism' has slightly more precise sociological connotations due to its history in terms of defending certain threatened/unfashionable beliefs, nonetheless for the purposes of this essay I shall define 'fundamentalism' as a kind of absolutism about biblical authority: - the belief that all scripture is inerrant.
My argument is not simply that fundamentalism is wrong because they set too much store in the idea of revelation. Rather, it is that by arguing for the inerrancy of scripture (often by circularly referencing St. Paul's letter to Timothy and the claim that all scripture is 'God-breathed'), they have undermined the notion of revelation. Fundamentalism has done more damage to the idea of revelation than any of the simplistic atheistic arguments that the Bible is self-contradictory or contrary to evidence. I don't wish to explore these attacks on scripture in this essay, but they are much debated elsewhere (e.g. here, and here). A subtler notion of revelation could survive these challenges without much difficulty; and without any need for the theological contortions, justifications and mysteries that abound in defending biblical views.
The heart of the problem is in arguing for an idea of revelation that is so authoritarian, so dependent on the idea that it is God that is the author and not the actual human author. As a result, the idea of revelation has been distanced from ordinary human experience. We find it hard to relate to the claims of Muhammad or Paul because most people (I am fairly sure) do not claim to hear such a clear voice of 'truth from above'. An external personage speaking or dictating facts in this way is simply not something that many can conceive or support with any confidence. We all have a kind of internal dialogue; we have the ability to reflect on ideas deeply from different perspectives, conducting a kind of inner dialectic in search of that which is most wise and true. However, those who do hear such 'externalised' voices might be more likely to question their mental health (or spiritual health, perhaps) rather than assume a communication channel has been established with the divine and infinite source of being.
My contention is that their notion of revelation has become too divorced from the concept of wisdom. A more liberal understanding of revelation as 'insight' is preferable, or even 'inspiration' - a word that is often used by fundamentalists, but only in some context that is far removed from our ordinary experience of feeling 'inspired'. For this reason, many modern Westerners feel more comfortable seeking ideas from 'Eastern' scriptures that make smaller claims for their truth, rather than having to engage more passively with a text that claims to be an absolute dictator of truth. We feel more encouraged to explore these scriptures as ideas we can relate to, criticize, respond to, and apply as we see fit, rather than having to accept or reject in some black-and-white, all-or-nothing kind of way. As a result, we are likely to get much more out of them by studying them in this way. What is wrong with selecting ideas that are appropriate for our contexts, considering the value and wisdom contained in these phrases and viewpoints? Highlighting that which is good and useful, regardless of the apparent imperfections of the texts taken as a whole, just seems much more practical. If we felt more able to do this with Abrahamic texts, then the value of Amos's experiences and ideas, or John's or Peter's might be considered afresh, rather than rejected out of hand for containing other passages supporting slavery or genocide or condemning homosexuality.
Of course, once we accept this 'downgrading' of revelation, we destroy the line between 'scripture' and other 'literature'. However, I think this is a good thing. My hope is that people will also 'upgrade' their approach to other writing. Obviously there is a lot of 'trashy' literature out there: there is the tedious and the uninspiring, and there is also writing that may actually be harmful. Rather than enlightening us, some human texts are expressions of ignorance, hatred, and crass materialism. Indeed, some of those with the greatest potential for harm, I believe, are found in amongst these collections of scripture.
We should approach all literature with an openness to the idea that we may be sharing in someone else's wisdom - that they may have had a 'stroke of genius' or a 'touch of inspiration'. I personally have had a Christian upbringing, and feel I have learned a lot from the teachings of Jesus. But I don't think his purported sayings in the Gospels have to be accepted en masse without criticism. I have also learned a lot about life, humanity, morality and reality from reading Buddhist suttas, Shakespeare's plays, Louis de Bernieres' novels, Steven Pinker's explanations of scientific theories, Keats' poems, to name but a few. Every time I read a good philosophical work, I am engaging with something that could potentially enhance my experience and understanding of the world. Equally, however, we must approach any text with a critical mind, recognizing that they may be passing their own negativity, misery, false beliefs and malicious propaganda onto others. The more that such an attitude -(evaluative, open-minded but critically engaged)- can be fostered amongst everyone, the better.
However, I am of the opinion that many of these 'non-extremist' defenders of religion do not go far enough. Whilst seeking to distinguish themselves from the 'unsophisticates' lampooned by the atheists - nonetheless they are often, in my view, too conservative and too attached to a certain kind of idolization of the 'word'. I will attempt to argue for the value of a more liberal approach, and that these conservative views are defending a primitive or inferior view of revelation.
Although the word 'fundamentalism' has slightly more precise sociological connotations due to its history in terms of defending certain threatened/unfashionable beliefs, nonetheless for the purposes of this essay I shall define 'fundamentalism' as a kind of absolutism about biblical authority: - the belief that all scripture is inerrant.
My argument is not simply that fundamentalism is wrong because they set too much store in the idea of revelation. Rather, it is that by arguing for the inerrancy of scripture (often by circularly referencing St. Paul's letter to Timothy and the claim that all scripture is 'God-breathed'), they have undermined the notion of revelation. Fundamentalism has done more damage to the idea of revelation than any of the simplistic atheistic arguments that the Bible is self-contradictory or contrary to evidence. I don't wish to explore these attacks on scripture in this essay, but they are much debated elsewhere (e.g. here, and here). A subtler notion of revelation could survive these challenges without much difficulty; and without any need for the theological contortions, justifications and mysteries that abound in defending biblical views.
The heart of the problem is in arguing for an idea of revelation that is so authoritarian, so dependent on the idea that it is God that is the author and not the actual human author. As a result, the idea of revelation has been distanced from ordinary human experience. We find it hard to relate to the claims of Muhammad or Paul because most people (I am fairly sure) do not claim to hear such a clear voice of 'truth from above'. An external personage speaking or dictating facts in this way is simply not something that many can conceive or support with any confidence. We all have a kind of internal dialogue; we have the ability to reflect on ideas deeply from different perspectives, conducting a kind of inner dialectic in search of that which is most wise and true. However, those who do hear such 'externalised' voices might be more likely to question their mental health (or spiritual health, perhaps) rather than assume a communication channel has been established with the divine and infinite source of being.
My contention is that their notion of revelation has become too divorced from the concept of wisdom. A more liberal understanding of revelation as 'insight' is preferable, or even 'inspiration' - a word that is often used by fundamentalists, but only in some context that is far removed from our ordinary experience of feeling 'inspired'. For this reason, many modern Westerners feel more comfortable seeking ideas from 'Eastern' scriptures that make smaller claims for their truth, rather than having to engage more passively with a text that claims to be an absolute dictator of truth. We feel more encouraged to explore these scriptures as ideas we can relate to, criticize, respond to, and apply as we see fit, rather than having to accept or reject in some black-and-white, all-or-nothing kind of way. As a result, we are likely to get much more out of them by studying them in this way. What is wrong with selecting ideas that are appropriate for our contexts, considering the value and wisdom contained in these phrases and viewpoints? Highlighting that which is good and useful, regardless of the apparent imperfections of the texts taken as a whole, just seems much more practical. If we felt more able to do this with Abrahamic texts, then the value of Amos's experiences and ideas, or John's or Peter's might be considered afresh, rather than rejected out of hand for containing other passages supporting slavery or genocide or condemning homosexuality.
Of course, once we accept this 'downgrading' of revelation, we destroy the line between 'scripture' and other 'literature'. However, I think this is a good thing. My hope is that people will also 'upgrade' their approach to other writing. Obviously there is a lot of 'trashy' literature out there: there is the tedious and the uninspiring, and there is also writing that may actually be harmful. Rather than enlightening us, some human texts are expressions of ignorance, hatred, and crass materialism. Indeed, some of those with the greatest potential for harm, I believe, are found in amongst these collections of scripture.
We should approach all literature with an openness to the idea that we may be sharing in someone else's wisdom - that they may have had a 'stroke of genius' or a 'touch of inspiration'. I personally have had a Christian upbringing, and feel I have learned a lot from the teachings of Jesus. But I don't think his purported sayings in the Gospels have to be accepted en masse without criticism. I have also learned a lot about life, humanity, morality and reality from reading Buddhist suttas, Shakespeare's plays, Louis de Bernieres' novels, Steven Pinker's explanations of scientific theories, Keats' poems, to name but a few. Every time I read a good philosophical work, I am engaging with something that could potentially enhance my experience and understanding of the world. Equally, however, we must approach any text with a critical mind, recognizing that they may be passing their own negativity, misery, false beliefs and malicious propaganda onto others. The more that such an attitude -(evaluative, open-minded but critically engaged)- can be fostered amongst everyone, the better.
Tuesday 31 January 2012
Homophobic abuse, football chants, humour, liberty and tolerance.
On a moral level, verbal abuse is verbal abuse, whether it is racist or anti-gay, and it is by definition liable to hurt or cause offence. Blaming someone for taking offence is ridiculous. After all, what is the difference from blaming someone for being upset if they get bullied? It is not the same thing as blaming someone for being raped, which is arguably a much more serious issue, but it is still a regrettably common defence of abusive language to say that it is just 'banter' and to suggest that we should tolerate it. I can remember from primary school years the nasty comments directed at some of my peers, and it is interesting that sometimes these jeers were followed by the chant: "You can't take it - You can't take it!" ...As if the victim was further at fault for being upset by the bullying.
I was driven to write this after reading this article about abuse directed at fans of Brighton & Hove Albion FC by Leicester City supporters, (of the same sort given by Leeds United fans recently, and which has also been directed towards Blackpool FC fans, so not an isolated occurrence). There are some fairly ignorant comments below the article, but also some positive ones; I think the most interesting comment is from someone called Lee, who questions where we draw the line. He then mentions regionalism, which I think this is absolutely relevant. The only consistent moral line to take is that all abusive comments are wrong.
Homophobia is arguably a bigger issue than regionalism right now, (even in football, as Amal Fashanu's documentary has highlighted, which is deeply, if not inherently tribal)... but regionalism can have harmful consequences nonetheless. Perhaps one day society will evolve to the point where anti-Scouse prejudices, to take one notable example, are more universally frowned upon, if not prohibited. If you think that is overly optimistic, I would have to agree... but if you think that such a world is not desirable- that is a view I want to contest. For instance, I imagine critics trying to argue that offensive language is somehow a right, or that it would be impossible for them to find anything funny if it doesn’t involve nastiness. To those who feel that this so-called ‘banter’ is acceptable, I would ask: why? What about it is at all good? Surely you don’t think it is somehow an important civil right to be horrible to others? Oh! They say, the world would be drab without being able to 'take the piss'. But what is so bland about peace, love and understanding? [Apologies to Elvis Costello!]
A distinction might also be drawn between gentle mockery and more obviously cruel comments. Matt Lucas, an openly gay comedian, suggested in the documentary mentioned above that one chant directed at Brighton fans: "we can see you holding hands" was acceptable, whereas a chant directed at Sol Campbell (which I will not quote) was unacceptable. There were other chants directed at Brighton fans that go somewhat further than reference to holding hands, but there is no doubt that the words directed at Campbell were nonetheless many times nastier. To me, the main thing that made the latter chant worse was not simply a 'degree' of nastiness, but the fact that it made reference to him dying a gruesome death. Matt Lucas' main defence of the former chant was that it was 'witty'. But, I would argue, his real point was, or should have been, that it was not as unfriendly. After all, the Sol Campbell chant involved wit and skill, but was absolutely vile. The difficulty that then arises is deciding how cruel the intention is.
The documentary also highlights another way this same distinction that may be drawn. In the case of Anton Hysen, his teammates seemed (largely) comfortable with his homosexuality, but felt more able to make jokes about it, now that he was 'out'. The clear implication was that these jokes were ok, because they were done in a friendly spirit. Some footballers at Millwall FC suggested that making certain jokes might be a way of actually showing camaraderie, and of indicating acceptance. Clearly, the context has a huge impact on whether any harm is caused. Amongst friends, I often hear jokes that play on prejudices of all sorts, and which may be told purely for their wit. For example, although the majority of my friends are straight white males like myself, they might share a joke they have heard about black people or blonde females or even about paedophiles or some such thing. These are sometimes funny, I admit, either because they are deliberately risqué, or perhaps intended ironically (though sometimes I wonder), or simply well-crafted with skill and wit. However, I would be uncomfortable repeating them outside the company of friends that I trust not to take this amusement further. Whilst I trust my friends would never use such 'humour' to actually directly oppress the 'victims' of such jokes, does tolerating this kind of joke necessarily imply that one condones actual discrimination towards them? I don't believe so. There is a possible question of hypocrisy here: I would not allow such jokes in my classroom, but I tolerate them in privacy with my friends. For me, the difference is that I presume my friends are educated and refined enough to know how damaging these jokes might be in a different context, and it is part of my remit as an educator to challenge the presuppositions of social attitudes. When it comes to this kind of humour, I am a fan of 'anti-jokes' (some good, but many bad examples here) that deconstruct or invert these presuppositions.
Now, when it comes to the issue of public comedy, satire and mockery, how far do we go? I think there is a relevant moral difference in [a] mocking someone for something they have no control over (e.g. their skin colour, or their sexuality) from [b] mocking them for something they have done (for example, I think that chants critical of John Terry’s private life are fair game, given the allegations of adultery.) Clearly, I think, it would be going too far to ban someone from shouting at a team that they are rubbish at football (to paraphrase one well-known chant), or to direct this at an individual- even if they find this opinion hurtful. Findley's recent miss for Forest against Leicester in the FA Cup, for example, was pretty funny. What about chants such as, ‘You fat bastard!’? I would argue this too comes into the second category... just. However, there might be an argument that although one's physical fitness is largely controllable, in fact one's size is at least partially genetic.
I was driven to write this after reading this article about abuse directed at fans of Brighton & Hove Albion FC by Leicester City supporters, (of the same sort given by Leeds United fans recently, and which has also been directed towards Blackpool FC fans, so not an isolated occurrence). There are some fairly ignorant comments below the article, but also some positive ones; I think the most interesting comment is from someone called Lee, who questions where we draw the line. He then mentions regionalism, which I think this is absolutely relevant. The only consistent moral line to take is that all abusive comments are wrong.
Homophobia is arguably a bigger issue than regionalism right now, (even in football, as Amal Fashanu's documentary has highlighted, which is deeply, if not inherently tribal)... but regionalism can have harmful consequences nonetheless. Perhaps one day society will evolve to the point where anti-Scouse prejudices, to take one notable example, are more universally frowned upon, if not prohibited. If you think that is overly optimistic, I would have to agree... but if you think that such a world is not desirable- that is a view I want to contest. For instance, I imagine critics trying to argue that offensive language is somehow a right, or that it would be impossible for them to find anything funny if it doesn’t involve nastiness. To those who feel that this so-called ‘banter’ is acceptable, I would ask: why? What about it is at all good? Surely you don’t think it is somehow an important civil right to be horrible to others? Oh! They say, the world would be drab without being able to 'take the piss'. But what is so bland about peace, love and understanding? [Apologies to Elvis Costello!]
A distinction might also be drawn between gentle mockery and more obviously cruel comments. Matt Lucas, an openly gay comedian, suggested in the documentary mentioned above that one chant directed at Brighton fans: "we can see you holding hands" was acceptable, whereas a chant directed at Sol Campbell (which I will not quote) was unacceptable. There were other chants directed at Brighton fans that go somewhat further than reference to holding hands, but there is no doubt that the words directed at Campbell were nonetheless many times nastier. To me, the main thing that made the latter chant worse was not simply a 'degree' of nastiness, but the fact that it made reference to him dying a gruesome death. Matt Lucas' main defence of the former chant was that it was 'witty'. But, I would argue, his real point was, or should have been, that it was not as unfriendly. After all, the Sol Campbell chant involved wit and skill, but was absolutely vile. The difficulty that then arises is deciding how cruel the intention is.
The documentary also highlights another way this same distinction that may be drawn. In the case of Anton Hysen, his teammates seemed (largely) comfortable with his homosexuality, but felt more able to make jokes about it, now that he was 'out'. The clear implication was that these jokes were ok, because they were done in a friendly spirit. Some footballers at Millwall FC suggested that making certain jokes might be a way of actually showing camaraderie, and of indicating acceptance. Clearly, the context has a huge impact on whether any harm is caused. Amongst friends, I often hear jokes that play on prejudices of all sorts, and which may be told purely for their wit. For example, although the majority of my friends are straight white males like myself, they might share a joke they have heard about black people or blonde females or even about paedophiles or some such thing. These are sometimes funny, I admit, either because they are deliberately risqué, or perhaps intended ironically (though sometimes I wonder), or simply well-crafted with skill and wit. However, I would be uncomfortable repeating them outside the company of friends that I trust not to take this amusement further. Whilst I trust my friends would never use such 'humour' to actually directly oppress the 'victims' of such jokes, does tolerating this kind of joke necessarily imply that one condones actual discrimination towards them? I don't believe so. There is a possible question of hypocrisy here: I would not allow such jokes in my classroom, but I tolerate them in privacy with my friends. For me, the difference is that I presume my friends are educated and refined enough to know how damaging these jokes might be in a different context, and it is part of my remit as an educator to challenge the presuppositions of social attitudes. When it comes to this kind of humour, I am a fan of 'anti-jokes' (some good, but many bad examples here) that deconstruct or invert these presuppositions.
Now, when it comes to the issue of public comedy, satire and mockery, how far do we go? I think there is a relevant moral difference in [a] mocking someone for something they have no control over (e.g. their skin colour, or their sexuality) from [b] mocking them for something they have done (for example, I think that chants critical of John Terry’s private life are fair game, given the allegations of adultery.) Clearly, I think, it would be going too far to ban someone from shouting at a team that they are rubbish at football (to paraphrase one well-known chant), or to direct this at an individual- even if they find this opinion hurtful. Findley's recent miss for Forest against Leicester in the FA Cup, for example, was pretty funny. What about chants such as, ‘You fat bastard!’? I would argue this too comes into the second category... just. However, there might be an argument that although one's physical fitness is largely controllable, in fact one's size is at least partially genetic.
Also, I would argue, it is important that our culture tolerates mockery of religion and political views. I have been a strong supporter of Rowan Atkinson's campaign to defend freedom of speech against certain movements to limit criticism of religion. And although I wouldn't advise it, given the intolerance of certain elements of the Islamic world, I think that I should have a right to draw a cartoon of Muhammad if I want. Satire is an important tool in exposing irrational and hypocritical beliefs and behaviour. After all, if you hold such views, I believe you should be able to justify them.
Now, as for the philosophical dimension to this issue, the only possible justification for allowing such abuse would be some naïve version of Benthamite Utilitarianism. If a whole crowd of fans are enjoying the chants, then so what if a few people are offended? A simplistic quantitative application of the 'greatest happiness principle' might be used to argue that the minority must suffer the barbarism of the majority because otherwise the overall 'amount' of happiness would be reduced. The same sort of logic could be used to 'justify' gang rape.
However, this brute form of utilitarianism is not one that a philosopher would dream of defending. Back in the 19th Century, John Stuart Mill realised that Bentham's formula needed some qualification. He developed the philosophy by arguing that certain pleasures were 'more desirable than others', which paves the way to argue that some forms of suffering are more undesirable than others. In this case, the base excitement caused by bullying is of a lower kind than more noble or intellectual pleasures, and thus cannot justify causing more serious forms of harm.
In addition to the principle of utility (the 'greatest happiness principle'), Mill added the principle of liberty: "Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign". He argued against state intervention, and thus might be used in arguments against legal sanctions for those abusive fans.
“Mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to live as seems good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to the rest”. (On Liberty)
However, to quote Mill in this way- to justify the behaviour of an abusive majority- is arguably unfair. He limited the 'liberty principle' with the 'harm principle'. Whilst Mill thinks we have the right to do what we want with our own lives, this right does not allow us to do the same with others. We must not allow one person's liberty to infringe another's. The crucial issue here is how to define 'harm'. If it is restricted only to physical harm, then there is little we can do as a society to prevent bullying: the large part of which is not physical. So much the worse for society.
However, at the other end of the scale, we must allow a person to criticise another, even if they become upset. For example, an art critic might greatly hurt the feelings of the artist he/she is reviewing; an employer should be able to discipline an employee; and society must be able to punish criminals (to what degree is a matter for another essay). How we define 'offence' is a crucial matter for politics today. We can consider, for example, whether to allow public displays of homosexuality (such as a gay kiss on Eastenders), despite a fair proportion of society finding this to their distaste. Richard Dawkins has joked that he is offended by chewing gum and backwards baseball caps! To some extent, it might be argued these cases are affected by the context, and to what extent someone has been subjected to the 'offensive' situation rather than 'choosing to take offence'. Comments made in private may not warrant the same legal restriction as those that are broadcast, perhaps. I submit that the only reasonable line to draw is not based on how strongly you care about something (as people may care intensely about their unreasonable prejudices), but whether the criticism should be defined as acceptable (rather than abusive) must centre on whether or not it concerns something for which the person is responsible.
Wednesday 18 January 2012
Atheism 2.0: Brief review of TED talk by Alain de Botton
I enjoyed the TED talk by Alain de Botton on the idea of Atheism 2.0. It is a subject that interests me, as I am a non-believer in theism who feels at times estranged from some of the mores and attitudes of some members of the atheist 'community'. I write that deliberately in 'scare quotes' as one of the features of atheism as opposed to certain denominations, churches or religious subgroups is that they do not have much of an authentic community in terms of warm, friendly interaction. Philosophical exchanges and scientific peer reviews are interesting, but not socially rewarding in the same way as meeting together to worship or some such thing. I have personally enjoyed informal philosophical meetings to discuss flighty ideas and serious concepts in a light-hearted setting over a drink or three, and there are many such groups, but they rarely venture much further than 'book club' territory. In fact, the internet has made a notable impact in bringing atheists together to share ideas, even if that is done in the space of a few barbed Youtube comments. However, they are notably united mostly by sharing a common enemy, and often fail to share much that positively enriches their daily experience of life.
In anticipation of reading more in his book, I have a few brief responses to the talk that I wished to write down.
One of de Botton's motivating premises in his talk: 'we have secularised badly', seems to me to be quite reasonable. Many of the hopes and dreams of sceptics, reformers and revolutionaries since the 1600s have gone sour.
His argument that moral lessons need repeating seems a strong one too. The idea that because I have done some moral philosophy at university, or once I have covered a certain amount of ethical training I don't need to do any more is obviously false, I think. From personal experience, for example, I find it helps me to return to the Art of Happiness at regular intervals.
There were plenty of good ideas in this talk about the social and personal benefits of religion. My main problem with the argument, as I understand it, is, I think, a practical one. How do you get atheists to agree on anything? Secular Philosophy works through a dialectic process of opposition. However, Alain de Botton seems to be suggesting a much more homogenised atheism. I'm not sure that atheists gather well together in herds.
Furthermore, the idea of institutionalising secular ideas is potentially off-putting. Much in a similar way to how those of a libertarian right-wing mindset might look at socialism and question their imposition of morals/values/communities/welfare, likewise, I think those of an atheist mindset might understandably ask: 'under whose authority would such structures be set up?' How will they be maintained?
The adoption or acceptance of the principles of the free market worked exceptionally well for those religious communities who settled in America (as John Micklethwait and Adrian Wooldridge have persuasively argued in their recent book 'God is Back'). The competition between ideas, methods of worship and styles of charismatic preaching allowed religion to flourish whilst it became less and less socially acceptable in Western Europe. Is a free market of ideas and social organisations the way forward for atheism? Would atheists tolerate the rise of certain 'cult' leaders?
PZ Myers and Richard Dawkins seem to command a loyal following from a certain section of the internet community, but equally can be reviled by others who seek a different kind of atheism. For the record, I admire both, to a degree, but would not call myself a follower of their views, in any sense. I have found Dennett's ideas much more philosophically interesting, and Sam Harris' optimism much more encouraging. I have also really enjoyed listening to the late Christopher Hitchens. De Botton's talk seemed to suggest a need for someone to do some organising or mobilisation (or did I read him wrongly there??) How would this be brought about, I wonder? Is he thinking of something like the 2012 Global Atheist Convention? I reckon I am as keen on reason as the next atheist, but I am not sure I want to celebrate it at a convention with other atheists - with whom I fear I might share little, other than a non-belief in a personal theistic God.
In anticipation of reading more in his book, I have a few brief responses to the talk that I wished to write down.
One of de Botton's motivating premises in his talk: 'we have secularised badly', seems to me to be quite reasonable. Many of the hopes and dreams of sceptics, reformers and revolutionaries since the 1600s have gone sour.
His argument that moral lessons need repeating seems a strong one too. The idea that because I have done some moral philosophy at university, or once I have covered a certain amount of ethical training I don't need to do any more is obviously false, I think. From personal experience, for example, I find it helps me to return to the Art of Happiness at regular intervals.
There were plenty of good ideas in this talk about the social and personal benefits of religion. My main problem with the argument, as I understand it, is, I think, a practical one. How do you get atheists to agree on anything? Secular Philosophy works through a dialectic process of opposition. However, Alain de Botton seems to be suggesting a much more homogenised atheism. I'm not sure that atheists gather well together in herds.
Furthermore, the idea of institutionalising secular ideas is potentially off-putting. Much in a similar way to how those of a libertarian right-wing mindset might look at socialism and question their imposition of morals/values/
The adoption or acceptance of the principles of the free market worked exceptionally well for those religious communities who settled in America (as John Micklethwait and Adrian Wooldridge have persuasively argued in their recent book 'God is Back'). The competition between ideas, methods of worship and styles of charismatic preaching allowed religion to flourish whilst it became less and less socially acceptable in Western Europe. Is a free market of ideas and social organisations the way forward for atheism? Would atheists tolerate the rise of certain 'cult' leaders?
PZ Myers and Richard Dawkins seem to command a loyal following from a certain section of the internet community, but equally can be reviled by others who seek a different kind of atheism. For the record, I admire both, to a degree, but would not call myself a follower of their views, in any sense. I have found Dennett's ideas much more philosophically interesting, and Sam Harris' optimism much more encouraging. I have also really enjoyed listening to the late Christopher Hitchens. De Botton's talk seemed to suggest a need for someone to do some organising or mobilisation (or did I read him wrongly there??) How would this be brought about, I wonder? Is he thinking of something like the 2012 Global Atheist Convention? I reckon I am as keen on reason as the next atheist, but I am not sure I want to celebrate it at a convention with other atheists - with whom I fear I might share little, other than a non-belief in a personal theistic God.
Thursday 5 January 2012
Is Intelligent Design "Theory" Scientific?
According to the website for the Intelligent Design and Evolution Awareness Center ('IDEA'):
"Intelligent design is a scientific theory which has its roots in information theory and observations about intelligent action." http://www.ideacenter.org/contentmgr/showdetails.php/id/832
In many respects, admittedly, it looks like science.
1) It uses diagrams, scientific terms, and empirical observations.
(For example, Michael Behe is famous for having argued that the bacterial flagellum is irreducibly complex. He supports this claim with information about the amount of proteins in its molecular structure) His book, Darwin's Black Box (1996) is a major intelligent design (ID) text.
2) It doesn't use religious terms, Bible references, or refer directly to the supernatural.
3) It uses mathematics, equations, algebra and lots of talk about probabilities. (For example William Dembski tries to use the No Free Lunch theorem: (wiki link here) 2002)
However, ID theory was ruled to be unscientific in the US federal courts in the Kitzmiller v Dover trial (2005). Judge Jones found that ID theory was nothing more than creationism in disguise, and the 'research' done by ID supporters lacked any support from peer-reviewed scientific journals. [link to legal reference]
In that trial, the cell biologist Ken Miller was a key witness. He showed firstly that many of Behe's claims are simply false (scientists can show how certain complex biochemical structures develop), and secondly that, unlike evolutionary biology, the arguments from ID creationists never propose an alternative hypothesis that is testable. Evolutionary biology has gradually told us more and more about the complex processes of cells and organisms, and is continuing to shed more light on how they work. Each time the ID theorists say that X is irreducibly complex, it merely provides yet another challenge for scientists to eventually explain.
Let us look back to the claims of the IDEA organisation. At the bottom of the webpage (link as above) they have written:
"In all of this, there have been no mentions of God, religion, or adherence to any religious text but rather we use observations about how intelligent design works in the present to look at aspects of the natural world to see if they are designed. Intelligent design theory is based solely upon applying observations about intelligent action and principles of information theory to the construction of biological systems, and nothing more. There is nothing mystical, supernatural, religious, or non-scientific about intelligent design theory. in its current form, intelligent design theory can also say nothing about the designer other than that the designer was intelligent. Whether you agree with the methodology of intelligent design theory or not, you have to agree with one thing: it has a scientific basis". [Needless to say, despite this protestation, the majority of scientists and philosophers are agreed that ID theory is not on a level with 'proper science'].
There is nothing wrong with challenging evolution. Challenging accepted theories is an important part of improving and developing new scientific understanding. However, ID theory fails to provide any testable hypotheses for scientists to investigate. It simply amounts to an expression of disbelief at the processes of nature, and suggests no other process of nature to explore.
ID theorists avoid mentioning what the intelligent designer is, but this is not actually a good strategy if they want to be scientific. (Note: By not saying it is God, they are apparently keeping their options open, but in reality almost all ID theorists are religious believers who take their holy text to be inerrant). This vagueness about the intelligent designer poses a problem: it places the intelligent designer beyond investigation.
A parallel example might be if someone (let's call her Jen) tried to find aspects of some theory in Particle Physics that are not fully explained or understood yet (such as the standard model). Now, it may well be that physicists may have to change their understanding of fundamental particles, (the Higgs Boson continues to be elusive, despite recent optimism, I believe...), however, if Jen then said that these anomalies were evidence that there is some other explanation involving a divine being, but refused to say what this other explanation is and how it might be tested, then Jen has not proposed a scientific hypothesis. She has merely pointed out difficult aspects of the currently accepted theory. Like a typical ID theorist, she might then argue that her explanation (an untestable being makes the particles behave the way they do at different times) should be taught alongside particle physics.
A website (venganza.org) was set up to protest against ID theory being taught in Kansas schools, by a man called Bobby Henderson. He made a parody religion called 'pastafarianism', and argued that his theory was the same as ID theory, but the intelligent designer was made of spaghetti and meatballs. His point was that if ID theory is a rival to evolution, then so is FSM. In fact, I would argue, the FSM would actually be more scientifically testable than traditional religions, as their concept of 'God' (the FSM) is more defined in terms of observational predictions of what their divine being looks like.
Daniel Dennett has written lots about this issue, and is recommended further reading. I have found the following article - [link here] - particularly enlightening, and will finish by including a few direct quotes from it, with comments:
"Saying, as intelligent design proponents do, "You haven't explained everything yet," is not a competing hypothesis. Evolutionary biology certainly hasn't explained everything that perplexes biologists. But intelligent design hasn't yet tried to explain anything".
In the quote above, Dennett is agreeing with Bobby Henderson in saying that ID is not a rival theory, as it proposes no alternative explanation. However, he argues the issue of creationism is more serious than the FSM website with its somewhat cheeky humour suggests:
"The focus on intelligent design has, paradoxically, obscured something else: genuine scientific controversies about evolution that abound. In just about every field there are challenges to one established theory or another. The legitimate way to stir up such a storm is to come up with an alternative theory that makes a prediction that is crisply denied by the reigning theory — but that turns out to be true, or that explains something that has been baffling defenders of the status quo, or that unifies two distant theories at the cost of some element of the currently accepted view.
To date, the proponents of intelligent design have not produced anything like that. No experiments with results that challenge any mainstream biological understanding. No observations from the fossil record or genomics or biogeography or comparative anatomy that undermine standard evolutionary thinking."
Here, Dennett is arguing that ID is not just unscientific, it is actually harmful to the progress of science, because it distracts from genuine research into controversies about how evolution works.
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