Introduction
I recently read through and had time to consider Arnold De Graaff’s The Gods in Whom They Trusted: The Disintegrative Effects of Capitalism – A Foundation for Transitioning to a New Social World (2016). This book in particular is one, I think, that can best described as being part of the broader core humanistic tradition, but with several caveats especially when it comes to its relation to the Enlightenment and its views in the area of philosophy of science and reason.
As a whole, The Gods in Whom They Trusted is a detailed work which may be considered as being situated alongside other popular critical works, such as Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everything, The Weather Maker’s by Tim Flannery, Eaarth by Bill McKibben, Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor by Rob Nixon, among many others. Its relationship and position within the domain of social philosophy is complex. The book aims and aspires toward the progressive and transformative end of the social philosophical spectrum. When it comes to core Enlightenment and humanistic values – social values fundamental to a progressive vision of the human endeavour – unlike the first sphere of philosophical critique associated with anti-modernism and anti-enlightenment movements, The Gods in Whom They Trusted does not necessarily reject or discard these normative principles, although its relationship with them seems problematic. On the one hand, it would seem fair to suggest that De Graaff’s overall project aims to ground vital critical normative values in a phenomenological and, therefore, too, lived historical framework. On the other hand, in developing his thesis and arriving to what he considers an “alternative theory of knowledge”, I read this book as a rejection of the primacy of reason and science. In moments it comes close to the anti-modernist domain of critique, as well as to the postructural view of science in relation to society, including what appears to be a social relativist model of “core” humanistic values.
To put it another way, I feel as though the book struggles to do justice to the values of reason and science, if not the enlightenment-humanist project as a whole. “Egalitarianism”, “democracy”, (social and environmental) “equality” to name a few – these enlightenment and core humanistic principles are more or less preserved. Coupled with a philosophical effort to formulate a progressive and transformative social vision, these basic values appear to be central in much of the author’s thesis. But other values, perhaps some of the most important in “reason”, “science” and “progress”, they become entangled in a critique of modern social, political and economic systems. Reason and science are pulled into a sinister holy trinity of principles intrinsic to contemporary “dominant” ideology associated with environmental destruction, colonialism and oppression.
Admittedly, I find the use of the terms “reason” and “science” a bit confusing. In parts of the book what is meant by “reason” or “science” seems to be what some call “rationalism” and “scientism”, the definition of which often seems unclear and convoluted. Similar to my engagement with the Gray-Pinker debate, what is meant by scientism often seems to lack coherence.
In this book in particular, what distinguishes “science” from scientism” is not always clear, and there are numerous moments when the language suggests that there is no real differentiation. This is a point I might reserve for a separate essay. Meanwhile, and to speak succinctly, The Gods in Whom They Trusted seems to be most concerned with a critique of epistemology, where “western reason” and “science” seem to become increasingly conflated with a broad stroke critique of what others might call a violent epistemology. The latter is often associated with the systems logic of modern political-economy.
I am open to being wrong, but on my reading it is difficult to nail down a comprehensive definition of terms. There are many, many moments when, in Chapter 7 for example, rather than focusing on the instrumental use or exploitation of science, the critique often becomes aimed at science as a whole.
In thinking about this book as well as others, what follows is an admittedly informal essay. It will serve as a site of reflection at the intersection of science, knowledge and ethics. By the end, I hope to have successfully unpacked my main complaints.
A brief summary of the book
In the science-driven research of systems theory, we learn how a number of key crises confronting human civilization are defined as global, industrial, and capitalist in nature. Research by Nafeez Ahmed is one that stands out, where in his widely acclaimed book A User’s Guide to the Crisis of Civilization: And How to Save It (2010), we learn about the systemic interconnections between a number of global crises: from water scarcity and food insecurity to climate change; potential energy crisis; food insecurity; economic instability; forced migration; international terrorism; mass surveillance and increasing militarization.
Deepening this idea, The Gods in Whom They Trusted by Arnold De Graaff furthers the study of these many social-systemic issues. Published in 2016, the book is “based on extensive multi-disciplinary research, scientific reports, journal articles, documentaries, case studies, and first-hand accounts by many peoples”, focusing primarily on three closely related themes: ecology, economics and ethics. Though it is not concerned with a systems approach, it does take “the on-going violation of nature’s and society’s thresholds” as a main inspiration.
From the degradation of land, water, air, oceans to climate change and the creation of untold human suffering, social injustice, corruption, violence, inequality, dispossession, enslavement, as well as millions of climate, food, water, and war refugees – one will find very few books as broad and more thorough in the treatment of details. The first third or so of this 911 page publication really stands out in this regard.
Additionally, the work’s authoritative tone is marked by the quantity of high-grade references. On each issue, De Graaff is careful to ensure a comprehensive interdisciplinary account, combing entire lists of empirical studies and scientific reports. It is here where his academic strengths really shine. Anyone interested in evidence-based critique of the many broad issues we face moving into the 21st century, scientifically informed policy as well as broader philosophical reflection on relevant policy challenges, this is certainly one of a selection of recent publications worth reading.
The second and third parts of the book are more philosophical, providing a framework to help explain the critical realities observed in the first 400 or so pages. The idea, which is indicated in the title, is to introduce a philosophical foundation to understand the crisis of modern society and how we might go about its progressive transformation. There is a lot to unpack here, from social and economic critique to a critique of science, theory of knowledge and even in the final third a list of radical theological theses.
Epistemology is key
One of the key arguments that stands out in The Gods in Whom They Trusted is how, as a result of the logic of the system of capital, a peculiar sort of epistemology has become prevalent. This realization leads the author toward a critique of science, which, after a lengthy study of modern political economy and how science and technology are perceived to relate to neoliberal capitalism, heads toward the direction of a critique of modern knowledge. In other words, a certain dominant and violent epistemology is linked with what the author describes as economic reductionism, the meaning of which refers to the literal cognitive reductionism of phenomena to their purely economic dimension. An example of this can be found in industrial farming, where cattle are not always seen as animals with agency, alive and responsive to their conditions. Rather, they become a purely economic means and, as studies of industrial slaughterhouses disclose, this trend with regards to the human relationship with nature can produce troubling results.
These threads of analysis ultimately lead to the maturation of the author’s critique of science and reason in relation to political economy. In attempting to introduce a number of critical interventions within the domain of social philosophy, including in the area of epistemology, it soon becomes clear that the book is set on a philosophical crash course with the modern values of reason and science. Highlighted in its engagement with a critique of epistemology and an “alternative theory of knowledge”, this book also includes an alternative theory of anthropology and cosmology – or, if you will, an alternative philosophy of human relations. It seems to me that a main inspiration behind the author’s arguments, albeit not in so many words, is based on recognition of a very deep history of pathological social relations. These relations also of course spill over into how we, as human beings, relate with natural world. Having said that, and as already alluded, there are a number of reasons why I feel the book struggles to formulate its concerns adequately within the context of philosophy of history and the evolution of modern understanding, not least when it comes to the need for a defence of reason and science. It particular interventions in the area of epistemology are also problematic.
Evolved epistemology
On my reading, The Gods in Whom They Trusted is a book that expresses explicit awareness toward the lack of an evolved epistemology. While it may not express such an awareness in the same terms, it is clear that in its aim to present an alternative epistemology, what the author is responding to is a problem in the perceived status of modern (social) relations and knowledge forming processes. This epistemology can be considered as being associated with what some describe as the “deficit of reason and social rationality”. But for the sake of our present discussion, it’s not really required that we get into the meaning and theory behind such terms, and the extensive empirical and scientific studies as well as philosophical literature substantiating the issue.
Rather, what is important to point out is that this notion of an evolved or mature epistemology concerns the principle roots of a fundamental social theory at the intersections of human subjectivity, knowledge and ethics. It relates to the philosophical and, more concretely, developmental model of open, mediating subjectivity and knowledge. The same sort of developmental model evidenced in a vast range of studies within the field of psychology, and now also increasingly in the cognitive sciences.
Such a form of subjectivity and knowledge is often considered as the opposite of, to put it in psychological terms, repressed subjectivity and thus hypostatized forms of identity and knowledge. This type of repressed knowledge and subjectivity is what we could describe as being “hypostatized” insofar that, as I have explained in other places, it forms the basis of hardened and often dogmatic views of the world, which, to put it in the context of anti-reason, are closed to new insights, observational data and counter-evidence. In an era defined as “post-truth” and characterized by its obvious lack of social rationality, this broad critical philosophy of the subject is most fitting.
In everyday circumstances, we see this sort of hardened and irrational subjectivity and knowledge play out in a number of ways: from the presentation of reality in mainstream media and the tabloid press, to the observable tendency to think in very prejudiced and absolute terms. There are entire bodies of research in media studies and throughout the social sciences about this very trend.
One could say, with good reason, that hypostatized knowledge, linked with repressed subjectivity and social pathological forms of development, is ultimately what lays the foundation for “worldviews”. By this I mean to refer to the sociological trend in relation to the development of worldview theory, which quite simply is the analysis of the formation of how different (often prejudiced) views of the world emerge in relation to closed systems of thought.
And this is a good place to start when it comes to deepening our engagement with The Gods in Whom They Trusted, as well as other books that speak of the need for a new and more positive “worldview” in contradistinction to neoliberal capitalism. I say this because one of the book’s central most theses has to do with worldview theory in relation to faith, core normative values and absolute first-principles.
In short, it seems to this reader that De Graaff seeks to fundamentally break from hypostatized forms of knowledge and subjectivity, on behalf of what he describes as an alternative and open “worldview”. This philosophical positioning fits, as we will see, with the books overall mission to provide an “alternative foundation” across the ranges of epistemology, anthropology and cosmology. But before I really start to unearth my critique, it may be useful to first entertain a critical summary of my reading. From there, I can then begin to logically breakdown the most important points.
A critical summary
Before I begin, allow me to preface what follows by acknowledging how: many indigenous societies have made remarkable scientific achievements, such as described in many historical, anthropological studies and within the field now called “ethno-science”. One could list dozens of examples, such as how aboriginal people in Australia developed complex number systems. A popular example is also found in indigenous botanical knowledge. Today, there is also a growing global indigenous movement known as “indigenous science”. Very different, no doubt, to modern “western” science and scientific methodologies; but it is nevertheless important to recognize that there are things that can be learned from indigenous approaches to the world and, indeed, from indigenous forms of knowledge, not least when it comes to epistemological practice in relation to management of resources.
This sort of recognition is something that The Gods in Whom They Trusted does well, even if this recognition is ultimately positions against “modern western science”. Although it doesn’t offer much in terms of a balanced view, what the book does provide is pages of examples of the practiced benefits of experiential knowledge, often using indigenous known as an example, such as in the practices of the Cree people and their fantastically sensitive understanding of natural cycles. Perhaps I am wrong, and here I can mainly only speak as a science student, but I think many scientists, especially environmental scientists, would recognize the value in indigenous knowledge and experiential forms of knowledge. I say that in effort to disclose that I do not see much or any evidence of an antinomy, as De Graaff suggests (a point to which I’ll return in a moment). Additionally, inasmuch that one might recognize the value of experiential knowledge in certain contexts; it is also important to recognize that experiential knowledge, broadly speaking, is very limited.
The issue I have with accounts such as the one found in The Gods in Whom They Trusted, is that the arguments often lack balance and nuance and subtly, idealizing too much in this case experiential epistemologies on behalf of oddly demonizing accounts of “scientism”, “western science”, and “scientific knowledge”, including rational and logical-mathematical forms of knowledge. Such accounts conveniently ignore the many limitations that also comes with these “alternative” experiential epistemologies, which one could describe as being variants of folk epistemology, instead only focusing on what the author’s see as the positives. And I think this criticism also applies to De Graaff’s book, although perhaps in a much more magnified way. In a certain sense, one could read The Gods in Whom They Trusted as an attempt to collate and describe an overwhelming picture of social-economic systemic crises and find the roots of such a totality of crises in a certain destructive or negative epistemology. There are certainly some very interesting studies out there which analyze the epistemology of capitalism – that is, the type of knowledge that the logic or rationale of the system of capitalism fosters, which is often described as economically reductionist. These accounts are very close to if not entirely similar to the one presented in The Gods in Whom They Trusted. The difference, however, is that in the book under review, there is significant theoretical and speculative conflation between the epistemology of what some call “political economy” and what the author identifies and targets as “western science” and “reason”, the latter which seem to become seen a root problem with regards to the unsustainability of western capitalist societies. On the basis of all the evidence and all of the literature, this seems like a rather odd argument. For me, a progressive and critical and nuanced perspective becomes lost. When I read the book in question the author’s philosophical account becomes much too simplistic in that an irreconcilability between modern science and reason and what the author wants to argue are reconciled epistemological approaches to the world. Reason, science, technology and economy all get mashed into one – representative of a violent and dominant epistemology – as the view or account quickly becomes polemic and thus one-sided, ultimately resorting to the dogmatic arena of black and white thought – it’s one or the other, folk epistemology or unsustainable and dominant “worldviews”.
In performing this error, The Gods in Whom They Trusted loses sight of reason, science and progress and their universal appeal as well as critical normativity, not only when it comes to a theory of epistemology but also in the context of a much broader philosophy of history. It also loses site of the ultimate human endeavour in relation to the positive enlightenment appeal. Even though the author rightly recognizes the importance of preserving universal normative values (however contradictory at times), the totality of the book doesn’t position itself in the right way. A critique of the rationale of capitalism and the epistemology it seems to generate, which some describe in the form of “abstract reason” or “instrumental reason”, is oftentimes a junk or pseudo notion of rationality. One could even argue that there’s nothing really rational about it all. Likewise, contemporary capitalist society’s relation with science is nothing short of complex and problematic. “Scientism”, which some describe as the selective, prejudiced economic and ideological appropriation of scientific input, resembles nothing close to “science”, “scientific knowledge” or “western science”. Likewise, scientific methodology and epistemology – the special nature of scientific knowledge – has nothing to do with what many argue as the destructive force and logic of capitalism. Science within popular society is usually a watered down cartoon absent of actual scientific values and methodological considerations. Irrational and pathological society is, fundamentally, largely absent of reason and rationality, not to mention scientific sensibility. The appropriation of science – like technology – for the benefit of economic and ideological ends has much more to do with a question of the social world than the scientific one.
There is without a doubt a lot of junk science, and there is little question about how science and scientific methodologies are vulnerable to becoming entwined with dominant social forces and trends. Ethical questions industrial science, its status as “science”, and the status of scientific methodology and knowledge within the industrial arena do not get raised enough. Additionally, so-called military science and the exploitation of scientific knowledge for the benefit of the military-industrial complex are befitting of a critique of what I gather to be what some refer to as “scientism”. Many scientists and philosophers of science will cite the atom bomb as a perfect example that exemplifies that science itself is not absolutely invulnerable to human sin. But these are questions and concerns that, at their roots, pertain to the irrationality of the human social world and the epistemology of what I would personally describe as pathological society.
What we read in The Gods in Whom They Trusted, on the other hand, are dramatic shifts in tone, from the opening pages which are grounded in modern science toward an overwrought polemic assault toward “modern western science” at the heart of global capitalism. The shift occurs much to the same tone as anti-modernism reverts to a total domination thesis or other documents describe indigenous science as set against modern science: “Unlike Western science, the data from indigenous science are not used to control the forces of nature; instead, tell us the ways and the means of accommodating nature”. This sentence, although not extracted from De Graaff’s book, could easily also be an extract from Chapter 7: even if he doesn’t want to abandon the concept of science for his own “alternative” pursuits, modern science seems to be thought to be driven to “control” or “dominate”.
Again, I am open to the possibility that what is characterized as “western science” is not actually “western science”, but a negative caricature in the form of what people sometimes call “scientism”. As I have complained in many other places, I am not always clear as to what this term means, as often it is employed to describe a whole range of issues which do not in any way seem to correlate with reality. The only considerable critique of “scientism” that I am aware of that raises some valid points – valid concerns which I have written about – is the criticism of the exploitation of scientific methodologies and epistemologies within the domain industry, politics and economy. “Scientism”, thus, as I’ve understood it, refers to as social critique of a particular co-optation of the scientific endeavour within the frame of political and economic ideology, as opposed to a critique of “science”.
Having said that, the account of “science” that we often read in The Gods in Whom They Trusted, paradigmatic in its own way, is the idea that “western science” seems to be seen as intrinsically driven to dominate over nature. This is because, on my reading, the book’s critique is generally positioned in relation to a critique of epistemology, which means that it struggles to differentiate between what some argues as the rationale of economic exploitation, based on the exploitation of scientific methods (i.e., scientism), and the actual genuine practice of science.
Expanding on the above, science, however vague and left undefined in the book, is still treated as an important universal value. As the author says, it is a “given”, which separates the book from typical hardened views associated with anti-modernism. But the basic or principle site of confusion, I think, has to do with a conflated form of social critique. Another way to describe this is as an example of theoretical conflation. The book misplaces the social and thus also pathological influence placed on scientific outputs for a critique of the whole modern scientific enterprise. In the case of The Gods in Whom They Trusted, a critique of “rationalism” and “scientism” quickly becomes a critique of “reason” and “western science”. Indeed, we see countless times how these terms become interchangeable. As a result, the author’s principle theses struggles to do justice to what is unique to modern science and reason, because it cannot recognize these terms outside of the “drive to dominate” narrative, or, worse, outside of the relativistic framing of worldview theory (a point saved for later).
In Chapter 7 we read, moreover, about how “science” is more or less irreconcilable with a sustainable way of living. The oddness of this claim is especially so when one considers that the majority of the honest attempts and most voiceful of popular movements – such as in the “sustainability” movement – are being powered by the natural sciences. Even on the level of a critique of epistemology, I see no grounding here.
Additionally, we are told how “the absolutization of science has made science into a basis for ultimate trust” (p. 529). On the level of a critique of political economy, I can possibly see what De Graaff means. But this is some statement, one that is repeated often, which again I don’t think in any way is universal or explained with any deal of nuance. Does neoliberalism like to think it is grounded in science? Many studies of neoliberal ideology tend to highlight this point. Do we often witness among neoliberalism’s advocates a rationale which affirms the statement of “ultimate trust” in a sort of pseudo-scientific social theory? Again, the scholarship on this issue would indicate so. However, the language again is not clear and it can easily be interpreted as all science. There are many, many natural scientists who would completely disagree with any statements of “ultimate trust” or “absolute faith” or even “absolute truth”. In fact, within the natural sciences, I’ve experienced more skepticism toward such claims than not. Scientists often practice the opposite, while also understanding at the same time that scientific knowledge is one of the best, most unbiased and most authoritative forms at humanity’s disposal. I agree. It works very well, but this is far from becoming “absolute faith” as seems to be the claim.
Within Chapter 7 there are also a lot of other similar assertions that are difficult to ground. For example, we read the claim that “science” – again, it is hard to know if the author means natural or social or whatever – would benefit greatly from the phenomenological tradition (p.556). I can certainly see the validity of this claim within the social sciences. But natural science is actually steeped in the phenomenological tradition. Phenomenology is a commonly used epistemology, including and especially in physics. It is one of the first epistemologies many young science students learn (explicitly or implicitly). Even historically in philosophy and in science, phenomenology is often synonymous with the scientific method. In physics, my own personal area of study and interest, has a very deep relationship with phenomenological epistemology.
It is also easy to feel flummoxed by the author’s critique of theoretical knowledge or scientific knowledge, which then jump straights into ideal counter-examples of indigenous knowledge. Again, it feels kind of “distant” or a too third-party referenced form of critique, because to my mind “good science” or “proper science” performs almost an identical operation to the ideal-type presented in The Gods in Whom They Trusted as a basis of “another view of knowing [and] scientific theories” (p.530).
To each “counter-example” read in Chapter 7, one can think of numerous examples of which the characterization of “indigenous knowledge” would match almost word for word with “good practice” in the natural sciences, minus the spiritualism and also the purely experiential or directly physical basis of knowledge. If I am right that the deeper issue De Graaff is seeking to describe is a critique of violent epistemology, with a mind toward a more open, subject-subject, particular sensitive epistemology, then I can see why it might be tempting to draw poles and issue a very black and white analysis. But to do so is not constructive. Consider, for instance, the book’s critique of “positivism”. Nowhere is it acknowledged that positivist epistemology is very useful and effective in terms of scientific methodology. And while it is very popular and common to criticize “positivism” within the social sciences, this is largely in response to “positivist social theory”, which is different in its own way. The main concern here, from what I have gathered, is that positivist approaches aren’t entirely applicable or appropriate within the domain of social research, and thus attempts by what is described as “positivist social theory” to formulate a theory of society is often met with criticism. But positivism itself isn’t inherently a bad thing or destructive epistemology, especially within the domain of the natural sciences. And inasmuch as The Gods in Whom They Trusted argues against the study of “objects”, there appears to be a lot of confusion about the legitimacy of such forms of study in the natural sciences and the problems such methodologies seem to face within the domain of social science.
Further to the point on the issue of conflation, at the start of the chapter we read a sentence that explicitly reflects on how capitalist economies have “enlisted” things like science and technology (p.529). But from there it feels like things fall off the track, because no longer is this “enslavement” of reason and science the issue. It suddenly seems that reason and science themselves as well as their history become a target. Science becomes an “ultimate belief” and reason, like theoretical knowing, gets laid the blame. The difference between reason and science, and their “absolutization” and instrumental exploitation by neoliberalism, fades as the central and most vital concern.
In that the author rightfully senses the need for a critique of epistemology within the social realm, the book in the end struggles to locate the boundaries of said epistemology. Thus the entire history and operation of reason and science are pulled into the acid bath of a negative social universe, like in much of critical social theory, and balance or nuance becomes lost. Modern economy and its rationale is conflated with the drives of reason and science.
Deeper yet, it feels like a critique of scientism becomes filtered vis-à-vis the worldview thesis that reason – or “western rationalism” – and science have become “distorted” as a result of their underlying paradigms linked with “dominant ideology”. A critique of violent epistemology becomes a critique of scientific knowledge – or even a critique of reason as a whole – which doesn’t make a lot of sense, unless the author is trying to argue that scientific knowledge is inherently violent. And if, indeed, this is what he is trying to argue, there is really no valid grounds for such an argument. The development of advanced nuclear weapons is a perfect example. Here technological development, based on concrete science, is outputted in a way that one should be critical of. But such a pathological development is not driven by science, but by the colonial and military-industrial complex whose rationale is often systemically linked to exploitative political economy. To go from this critique, to suddenly issuing a statement that nuclear physics or nuclear science is inherently destructive, would be completely absurd. Inasmuch that a person may feel compelled to think of examples where science is used destructively and therefore list report after report of such instances, I can also think of numerous examples in which scientific activity and knowledge can in no way be described as violent, “reductionist” or whatever else.
On this point, one analogy could be considered in psychology. There are reductionisms or moments when psychology certainly gets caught up in a negative epistemology or in social forces of domination; but it is not that psychology is inherently distorting in itself. The same can be said about technology or any other area of society. It’s no different than a hammer or any other piece of technology or any human concept for that matter. This is because scientific outputs, like technology, is socially mediated. For me, this seems like the most accurate approach to a critique of “scientism”. Even if, in giving the benefit of the doubt, that the many comments on “science” concern “scientism” in the sense of “science in the service of the economy”; the account is still too polemic and way too general. There is no question that the natural sciences can be appropriated or enlisted by an destructive economic regime, but a great deal of nuance is required in undertaking such a critique and in explaining in just what way this appropriation compromises the very process of scientific investigation and practice.
On this note, on p.548 it feels like De Graaff seeks to correct his position a bit, writing that the appeal is for “an integrated view of science that is in the service of all of life and not just the economy”. But only a few pages before he writes, to recall the passage verbatim: “The irony is that the large commercial fisheries with all their scientific data and sophisticated technology are unable to maintain fish stocks at sustainable levels […]. Of course there should not be a dilemma between a scientific-technological approach and experiential-communal one” (p.543). Sentences like this again imply a misplacing of social critique for a critique of scientific-technological approaches. Rather than focusing on the use of scientific-technological approaches, the aim appears more as a critique of said approaches in contradistinction to experiential-communal ones. Second, while there is an important lesson that De Graaff highlights in his study of an experiential-communal approach, particularly with regards to what we might learn from such an approach, it feels like he ignores the many non-capitalist driven science projects that are incredibly sustainable and also evidence the more or less “alternative” view he seeks to argue toward.
For these reasons among others, it begins to make sense why De Graaff favors indigenous knowledge as an ideal positive counter-example. This is actually quite common in a lot of contemporary critical social theory. Even Naomi Klein in This Changes Everything appears to make frequent references to indigenous practice of life, and for De Graaff it is clearly because many indigenous people have preserved another vision and way of life. Ultimately, indigenous societies, such as the Cree people, evidence for De Graaff his threefold unity between experience, knowledge and worldview. In truth, on a systematic philosophical level, relying on examples of indigenous knowledge as a counter-narrative is weak. No doubt there are many things we can learn from indigenous people throughout the world, not least about ecological sustainability as highlighted by De Graaff in his many references to Berkes’ study in Sacred Ecology. On this point, in the latter parts of Chapter 7 as well as in the other chapters that proceed, The Gods in Whom They Trusted contains a great deal of insight into alternative “holistic” process of knowing, “contextual knowledge”, the experiential process of understanding (i.e., experiential knowledge), and ultimately of a more integral “worldview”. Some of the points of discussion are quite insightful and worthy of reflection.
We read a theory of knowledge that is open, wherein as new, progressive and transformative paradigm-shifting values may arise, a philosophical “foundation” is formulated that seeks to support a reconciled form of subjectivity. With every new discovery, with every new observation or account of a phenomenon or object, De Graaff’s philosophical vision seeks to do justice to the changes that appear on the horizon, their call for recognition, and how to ensure that we stay open to the process of “coming to know”. Some of the sentences and particular moments of reflection are breath-taking, and will surely speak to many scientists, academics and individuals throughout the world.
The drive to dominate nature?
In addition to the above considerations, it is interesting to reflect on part of the subtitle of the book: “the disintegrative effects of capitalism”. For me, this signals a more concise scope of critique. It implies, in short, the negative social use of things like science and technology – one could certainly insert the whole of human life, as De Graaff does – in terms of its appropriation for political-economic gain. There are countless critiques in this regard and from within a wider range of scholarship, from farming and agriculture to education, energy, and even international relations.
On the other hand, the roots of contemporary social, economic and environmental crises is a product of the global social, political and economic system. It is not found in a critique of epistemology or knowledge, because violent epistemology is a product or social symptom – one could say, pathology – of the general coordinates of the social world. Within this social world, science like many other things, often struggle to maintain autonomy. Indeed, in such a social world, science and reason are often isolated and suppressed as social irrationality is the prevalent theme.
As I have written in the past as a result of my own studies in the area of philosophy of history, the presence of a “drive to dominate” narrative is unmistakable. We can trace speculatively, empirically, and also anthropologically its many iterations, subtleties and nuances throughout the whole of human history. Indeed, the drive to dominate nature is largely an existential one and thus we can see it as being transhistorical-cultural. It is also not necessarily a negative thing, as one could easily link this philosophical and psychological concept to basic “self-preservation” drives that are very much an important part of the fabric of the human endeavor.
In philosophy, it is considered, however speculatively, that such self-preservation drives are part of the existential fabric of human existence. It is, in simple terms, an expression of how we respond to the basic human condition and our precarious dependence on nature. This existential dimension of the human project is what is often described as a motivating force that has spurred us on throughout history to create better and more comfortable conditions for our lives. From a philosophical perspective the human existential drive to dominate nature – to establish a more secure existence against the precariousness of the basic human condition – can either be rational or irrational. The word “dominate” takes on two very different meanings, wherein on the one hand there will always be some form of domination over nature in the construction and maintenance of human society, unless, as in primitivism, one wishes a folk epistemology and a hunter-gatherer existence.
On the other hand, the word “dominate” also signals a social philosophical thesis that describes how irrational self-preservation drives – what one may also describe as “self-preservation drives run amok” – translate into social systems of domination, control, and coercion. On my reading, the philosophical thesis around the domination of nature is subtle and nuanced; it is not black or white in terms of good versus evil. It is material in the sense of human existential struggle, and what is required is awareness of the basic conditions of society. And I think this reading is one that correlates with the science-driven research in the area of social systems theory, which reveals that even on a basic systems level, every society that has existed has, to whatever degree, found the need to “dominate nature”. Every society, to speak more technically, has evidenced a degree of entropy. But it is, firstly, the rate of entropy that is the question. Secondly, the irrationality of pathological social systems and forces also comes into the equation.
It is thus not the question of the domination of nature per se, as the misguided arguments behind primitivism or anti-modernism suggest; rather it is the rate of domination that is the question. And I think this is another point of nuance that gets lost in The Gods in Whom They Trusted. It’s a point I will cover more thoroughly a little later. In the meantime, it is worth emphasizing that, inasmuch that The Gods in Whom They Trusted seems to position its discussion on epistemology as set within the two opposing forces – the drive to dominate, which is entwined with “western science” and the opposite, described as an “alternative epistemology” – the debate that the author seeks to construct lacks focus on the systemic. If “reason” and “science” and “technology” are entwined in or tend to become entwined in forces of domination, this has more to do with a study and examination of the logic and particular instrumental rationale of modern capitalism than of scientific epistemology or “western rationality”.
“Modern science” may be pegged as based on the control of the forces or laws of nature. There is certainly an element of truth to this. Much of western science is based on incredibly accurate methodologies which identify natural laws, and many progressive developments over the last four centuries have been based on our understanding of how to control or work with those laws. But to conflate this with the social systemic drive to “dominate nature”, however irrational and pathological such a drive has become in the name of the profit motive, is incredibly misguided. In other words, as I have argued in other places, to consider modern science as intrinsically dominant or violating, even in the context of seeking to understand natural laws and develop control over those laws – how “control” is defined in many critiques is vague – displaces the actual engine behind contemporary forms of almost irreversible systematic environmental degradation: namely, the logic of modern political economy. If such a political and economic system were to be advanced, transformed and progressed in the form of something more sustainable, ecologically just, and so on, then most of the problems this book covers would disappear.
Think, for example, of kinetic energy. Kinetic energy is a natural law. Kinetic energy is also something that has been exploited since early human history, when the first fire was sparked for warmth. The evolution in thought, and in science, from the basic primitive use of fire to the Victorian understanding of the stored energy of coal and the development of the steam engine – one could argue that this entire history is based to some degree on the advancement of understanding in relation to the control of a particular law of nature: what we might now describe as the conversion of mass to energy. This development and genesis of thought is not, in and of itself, a site of some pathological evil. The era of Victorian development – the industrial revolution – was a time of tremendous social exploitation and suffering, as is well-documented in the history books. But this is not a question of scientific epistemology, as the author in The Gods in Whom They Trusted alludes; if anything, it is a question of social and economic epistemology. How such scientific developments are realized, socially, is the more fundamental question. This is not to say that there isn’t a constant and ongoing concern around ethics in science – and we all know the long-term effects of coal-based energy systems. But without that period of development, one could also argue that we wouldn’t be able to enter into an age of renewable technology. The real question, which I think the book misplaces or doesn’t spend enough time considering, is what holds up progressive development? Why are scientific advancements and achievements realized in one way and not another? As many scientists are beginning to ask: In an age of great scientific achievement and technological advancement, “why does needless social suffering persist? Why does social irrationality prevail?”
Without the identification of natural laws, many amazing advancements and developments would not have taken place: without them penicillin would not exist, nor would the renewable energies the world is currently celebrating. In just four centuries, since Galileo, human civilization has gone from the invention of the telescope to putting a man on the moon to planning missions to mars, as Neil Degrasse Tyson rightly exclaimed in an episode of Cosmos. From penicillin among other invaluable medical developments, nuclear energy and better yet the possibility in the future of nuclear fusion, among many other things – they have all become realities taken for granted. The many significant and revolutionary developments that we celebrate today and imagine for tomorrow are indebted to science and the power of the scientific method.
An actual holistic analysis in the area of a study of western development would show, I think, that science is in no way the driving force of modern society. It is a driving force of progress, but the contradiction or antagonism we face is this: it is at least worth reflecting on whether there is a real ethical problem about how, as we read in philosophy, that reasonable or rational output is always under threat in an irrational social world. For example, think of the development of lifesaving medicines such as penicillin, and yet the logic of modern society – its political and economic systems and structures – enforces in many countries a financial barrier that blocks a lot of people from accessing such an important antibiotic. The other day I read a story about an individual in the U.S. who turned down needed medical treatment because they couldn’t afford it. Similarly, there’s a well-documented case currently unfolding where the drug Sofosbuvir, a cure for hepatitis C, is caught in the grips of a patent war. It has been estimated that there are currently 80 million people with hepatitis C, and only 5.4m have access to sofosbuvir. If this patent war goes to the side of pharmaceutical giant Gilead, millions of people will likely continue to not have access to this important drug.
More pointedly: it is a question of social, political and economic drives. The thesis of the existential drive to dominate nature is a social philosophical thesis, meaning it refers to the natural existential response to the precariousness of the human condition and how this is can be projected irrationally (or positively and rationally!) through social, political and economic systems (and thus the drives behind them). A critique of this trend or tendency throughout history – i.e., social pathology – is juxtaposed against a positive theory of rational development. That is, a positive theory of development toward a rational society, which responds to “self-preservation drives” (to borrow language from psychology) in a positive, transformative and truly “progressive” way according to normative universal values. Think, for instance, of so-called “military science” which exemplifies more the logic and rationale of pathological society than of the actual progressive values of the modern scientific endeavor.
What I am railing against here is a critique of scientific methodology and knowledge as a site or source of evil, as an intrinsic drive to dominate, when really these concerns pertain to an examination of the pathology of social rationality. The relation between science and society is the more serious issue, especially as scientific methodology and practice currently translates into the social world.
This raises an important point. For me, what a critique of epistemology is best used for is the evaluation of the rationale and knowledge forming processes inherent to the present social universe. Capitalism tends to foster or encourage, for example, the reduction of phenomena purely to their economic value. Hence the popular cultural expression, “profit over principle”. This is in no way an absolutely universal account. Many people in society don’t necessarily relate this way, but it describes the tendency or trend of the system of capital and its epistemology in terms of how phenomena, people, the natural world are viewed according to the logic of reduction on behalf of the values of capitalism.
Considering this note of reflection, one of the most widely accepted and understood theses is that “every technology embodies the values of the age in which it was conceived or created”, to whatever degree. Science is no different in the sense of the social use of science. Or, in other words, this is what some describe in a critique of “instrumental reason” – i.e., the instrumental and exploitative use of scientific research and outputs. Indeed, at least for me, the actual problem has more to do with the corporatization or economic reductionism, misuse and capitalization of the natural sciences, mostly outside of university and within “industry”, wherein such a dominant economistic epistemology is likely to be fostered and exercised. And many young scientists like myself certainly struggle with this. Scientists’ stories are everywhere on the internet to be read. In not wanting to participate in a particularly exploitative or destructive practices of industry, scientists are often forced to because that’s their only ticket to obtain funding for what is still often very valuable research. But again this is really a critique of what’s termed “instrumental reason” in critical social philosophy – again, the exploitation and instrumental use of science.
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So what of the thesis of the “drive to dominate nature”? One of the most influential, historically significant and widely read critiques of “scientism” can be found in a book written by Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno. This book was one of the first that I turned to when trying to understand what critical philosophers mean by “scientism”. The book is titled Dialectical of Enlightenment, and these two thinkers are part of what is called the first generation Frankfurt School. Originally published in 1964, this book remains widely cited within the social sciences, especially in the area of critical theory.
In short, the entire book is an interdisciplinary critique of social forces and trends in the 20th century and, ultimately, of the betrayal of the Enlightenment. It opens with a deeply shocking assertion: “The Enlightenment”, Adorno and Horkheimer write, “understood in the widest sense as the advance of thought, has always aimed at liberating human beings” (Adorno and Horkheimer, 2002, p. 1). But instead of fulfilling its promise, “the wholly enlightened earth is” today “radiant with triumphant calamity” (p.1). Ultimately, what Adorno and Horkheimer sought, was a critique of a certain social deformation of “reason” – for the sake of the defence of science and reason – and therefore, too, the enlightenment project and its many important normative values.
However, their treatment of the issues, though often lacking nuance and certainly at times subject of misinterpretation, is thought provoking. While logical positivism is a focus of serious criticism, especially as it is employed in the social sciences, Horkheimer and Adorno’s critique of “scientism” is actually more focused on a critique of the distortion of science and of a certain peculiar social ideological exploitation of human rationality. What does this mean, the “distortion of science”? In short, I think it can be read as a critique of the tendency of science – much like reason – to be used as an instrument for negative or destructive ends. Reason is no longer a means itself, but is employed in the service of political-economic ends. In this sense, it is not a critique of science per se. Rather, it is a critique of the social systemically fostered tendency toward the exploitation of scientific research and therefore scientific outcomes for the benefit of destructive social-political, economic projects.
One of the most widely cited examples – although there are many – is the use of scientific practice in Nazi Germany. From the view of philosophy of science, Nazism and its science of discrimination and social extermination through to the advent of the atom bomb – these examples offer concrete and empirical evidence where science has been “instrumentalized” to serve negative or destructive ends. In more contemporary terms, there are emerging critical discourses within the natural sciences and certain also within social philosophy, which use examples of the systemically degradation of the environment for industrial or corporate profit, as another example of the exploitation or even distortion of certain scientific practices. In fact, there are countless books which trace these developments historically as the sciences as a whole become increasingly privatized and corporatized, and therefore citing numerous examples where science and technology are being turned into an instrument for greater economic exploitation and social oppression. In other words: the autonomy of science is eroding, and, instead of serving a very real historical and social philosophical purpose in line with basic core Enlightenment values – emancipation, democracy, egalitarianism, justice, and so forth – many facets of the natural sciences are becoming subservient to neoliberal market ideology.
What we read in much of contemporary social theory is that science and reason (and also technology for that matter) have generally become entwined with “domination”. What does this mean? The problem for Horkheimer and Adorno, as I see it, is that far from reason and science being absolutely identical to power (in the negative sense of power, or what we might call coercive power), they argue that due to the character of real and identifiable social forces, reason and science tend to become entwined with the logical of dominant social systems. It is, in simpler terms, similar to saying that within a “bad” social system even a “good” person cannot fully escape becoming an instrument or extension of the negativity of that system, to whatever degree. In science-based social systems theories of development, we read similar arguments but perhaps in more clear terms, the fundamental point being that violent, domination, and so on are systemically-linked problems. In terms of the Dialectic of Enlightenment, the notion of domination is actually understood in a triple sense. To quote Lambert Zuidervaart, it is:
“…a pattern of blind domination […]: the domination of nature by human beings, the domination of nature within human beings, and, in both of these forms of domination, the domination of some human beings by others. What motivates such triple domination is an irrational fear of the unknown”. (Zuidervaart, 2011)
As for the idea of how human reason might become deformed, it is worth stating that many scholars, such as Amy Allen, suggest that we must understand that this process to be historically contingent (Allen, 2016; Sherman, 2007). What this means, as Allen writes, “If, however, the relationship between reason and domination is historically contingent, and if it doesn’t involve a reduction of reason per se to domination, then the paradox emerges from a certain process of rationalization and is not internal to reason as such” (Allen, 2016, p. 170).
To understand the source of this deformation, requires a significant discussion in social philosophy. This discussion lies outside the remit of the current article. The short and overly simply answer is that it is rooted in a general process of rationalization (Allen, 2016, p.167). This is what Adorno and Horkheimer sometimes describe as the process of “instrumental reason”, which does not actually refer to the natural human cognitive capacity but more or less to a critique of a certain distorted “analytic structure” (Sherman, 2007).
Another way one might describe this, as I reflected elsewhere, is reason employed for an end. Reasonableness, when subservient to bias and prejudice – or to a political and economic ideology – this is an alienated concept of reason. In its subservience, the end of the investigation is already the means. Thus, this “analytic structure” is linked to the development of the rationale of contemporary capitalism, which, from the perspective of psychology, functions according to “self-preservation drives gone wild” (Cook, 2007). The meaning of this statement is basically an account of how, in order for contemporary capitalism to operate, it requires a certain deformed rationality, one which drives to exercise greater and greater power over nature, over other human beings, and over each other, for the benefit of profit (or the purely economically defined ends of profit). This is what others sometimes refer to as “cycles of domination”, or, in the case of my own recent book, the pathology of contemporary society (Smith, 2017). It would seem, as expressed earlier, to be a question of social, political and economic drives. The thesis of the existential drive to dominate nature is a social philosophical thesis in that it refers to the natural existential response to the precariousness of the human condition and how this is can be projected irrationally (or positively and rationally!) through social, political and economic systems (and thus the drives behind them).
Now, none of this is to say that each and every person is entangled the negative version of the process in such an explicit and direct way, so as to imply that we are all a function of the philosophical notion of the “will to mastery”. That said, it is more than likely that it has some effect on us and that there is some degree of internalization, to whatever extent. In any case, perhaps the main purpose is to identify systemic patterns, and in the midst of these systemic patterns, to understand the extent of philosophical reconciliation.
Unfortunately, Adorno and Horkheimer do not disentangle reason and science from power once and for all. In their study, which, to be fair, does also require a great deal of critical retrieval, only leaves us with a fundamental sense of direction in terms of how we might actually begin to proceed. This sense of direction is ultimately quite abstract; it succeeds only in offering a critical examination which renders reason and science self-aware of its entanglement with power (Allen, 2016, p. 172).
Moving forward, while I have some complaints about Steven Pinker’s position, he is right to emphasize: “The mindset of science, cannot be blamed for genocide and war and does not threaten the moral and spiritual health of our nation. It is, rather, indispensable in all areas of human concern, including politics, the arts, and the search for meaning, purpose, and morality”. To suggest, as Pinker does, that defining principles of science can ensure circumvention of the errors and sins to which scientists, being human, are vulnerable (Pinker, 2013), is a bit of a problem. It’s a problem not because he is wrong, and that the principles of science cannot help ensure against circumvention of socially negatively human error – the problem is that the output of science, the output of scientific practice, is not necessarily immune or impregnable to the “sins” of irrational social forces. Therefore, even though I also have complaints about Lears position, he is not wrong to suggest:
“All [these events of the 20th Century, including the scientific racism of Nazi Germany] showed that science could not be elevated above the agendas of the nation-state: the best scientists were as corruptible by money, power or ideology as anyone else, and their research could as easily be bent toward mass murder as toward the progress of humankind. Science was not merely science. The crowning irony was that eugenics, far from “perfecting the race,” as some American progressives had hoped early in the twentieth century, was used by the Nazis to eliminate those they deemed undesirable. Eugenics had become another tool in the hands of unrestrained state power. As Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer argued near the end of World War II in Dialectic of Enlightenment, the rise of scientific racism betrayed the demonic undercurrents of the positivist faith in progress. Zygmunt Bauman refined the argument forty-two years later in Modernity and the Holocaust: the detached positivist worldview could be pressed into the service of mass extermination”. (Lears, 2011)
The main thing to take away here is that what plays a role in negatively shaping or mediating the outputs of scientific advancement, is not “western science” or some intrinsically evil concept of “western reason”. The ethos of modern science, from its earliest conception, was based on core humanistic values: liberation, egalitarianism, democracy, discovery and exploration. It was based on a social philosophy that sought to emancipate humanity from oppression, grounded in a critical conception of normative universalism. But if what one is seeking, from an ethical standpoint, is a critique of the outputs of modern science and how they take on an especially pathological or destructive form, what one must look at is the pathological social, political and economic system that would seek to exploit scientific knowledge for its own destructive purposes. And this, I take it, is one of the fundamental lessons of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer’s book Dialectic of Enlightenment, which Lears also cites.
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As a young scientist, the point for me is not a critique of science, nor even necessarily technology. It is not science or technology that makes the practice more unsustainable than De Graaff’s ideal-types. It is how they become entangled with forces of exploitation and domination, as discussed in essay one and two, which is the real point worthy of detailed ethical consideration. There are numerous examples of this in our recent history, where even scientists have been employed, often by large multinational corporations, to create counter-case (or counter-science) aimed at denying strong scientific evidence against the detrimental effects of a corporation’s product or technology. Recently a report emerged (published in Time Magazine) how companies that produce sugary drinks funded scientific studies aimed to suppress the link between the consumption of sugary drink and diabetes. Exxon’s cover-up of climate science is another very good recent example. Or what about the famous example from the early 20th century, where science denial on behalf of corporate and special interests was exposed by Clair Patterson. The scientist funded by the lead industry and in charge of creating a case against the science-based realities related to lead poisoning, such as for instance in the fumes of leaded gasoline, went by the name of Robert Kehoe. Any fans of the show Cosmos will know this famous story well.
Moving forward, I think it is fair and balanced to suggest that De Graaff isn’t wrong to critique how the “doing of science” can be influenced by the dominate ideology of our time (i.e., capitalism or, today, neoliberal capitalism), just like every other area of life or society can fall under such an influence. But there is a problem with the book’s assumption that scientific investigation is never value free, and thus that one always investigates from out of a certain worldview. In Part 2, I will discuss this issue and conclude my review.
