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Science's Conscious: The Metaepistemological Implications of Pyrrhonian Skepticism Michael Dodge The following is an essay designed to give a chance to the skeptics who are often dismissed in discussions on questions of knowledge, science, and propositions. Skeptics have much to teach us, and even if we do not take everything they say at face value, we would be wise to, at least, listen to their arguments. I discuss various forms of skeptics and their methods, and I try to allow for scientific knowledge as something all but the most extreme skeptics will allow. All forms of skepticism make knowledge their primary concern; for this alone, they should never be flippantly rejected. After all, even if knowledge is not considered the ultimate good for everyone, at least we can all agree it is nice to be ‘in the know,’ so to speak. This essay will focus on metaepistimological tools that enable philosophers to analyze epistemological claims, specifically the ‘modes’ developed by Pyrrhonian skeptics, in the attempt to avoid scientific dogmatism. Overconfidence in the certainty of scientific propositions is a primary example of dogmatism, since it colors all that one thinks regarding whole classes of scientific issues. Pyrrhonian skepticism is a method of thought intended to help people avoid unnecessary overconfidence. Science is filled with propositions; for example: Matter on Earth is accelerated toward the globe’s center at -9.8 m/s2. In some cases, the belief that x is certain can be justified; however, this is not the same as claiming x’s certainty, thus it may be concluded that justified belief, even justified true belief, is not a sufficient condition for the metaepistimological claim that we have knowledge of epistemically interesting propositions (such as the future can/cannot be known; other minds can/cannot be known). This is pertinent, since lapsing into dogmatism can put up a shield of protectionism over any given scientific discourse, making it more difficult to investigate seemingly outlandish claims that could, upon further investigation, open up new roads to scientific knowledge. Of course, dogmatism is not without its uses; after all, a dogmatic belief in evolution will readily dismiss claims such as ‘evolution is a myth.’ However this does not mean it is a correct way of reasoning. It is true some dogmatic thoughts—that gravity always holds, that evolution absolutely happens, that science must keep religiFebruary 9, 2007 2:56 PM>9, 2007 2:36 PMpeople uninterested in empirical proceedings. But high levels of probability without the concurrent emotional encumbrances of certainty are sufficient to hold back the fallacious argumentation of these people. I will show Pyrrhonian methods cause us to balk at proclaiming knowledge as certain and will argue that we might have knowledge, which I equate with ‘scientific knowledge.’ I conclude that Pyrrhonian skepticism is a tool to evaluate scientific knowledge, and that skepticism as a philosophy should be carefully considered by scientists and philosophers alike as Science’s conscience. Depending on whom one talks to, mentioning the word ‘skeptic’ will evoke any of a myriad of responses, most of which accompany tones of respect or disdain. Few could claim the skeptic as a neutral agent; he doubts, first and foremost, and such a process always steps on someone’s toes, since people tend to be emotionally wrapped up in their chosen worldviews. First, we must ask what he doubts, and to answer, one must distinguish between two kinds of skeptic. One will question ordinary things, e.g., ‘I believe that bird is a shrike, not a mockingbird as you have claimed…’. The other doubts on a deeper plane; he questions what one can know. It is from the latter this essay takes its cue, and the doubting at hand is identified as epistemic doubt, or doubt concerning second-order knowledge claims, such as “I know there is an external world beyond the confines of my mind.” One reason I felt obliged to write on the matter was the near venomous response my peers projected when ‘skeptical thought’ was mentioned. “Those skeptics,” they would say, “claim we cannot know anything; what could be more ridiculous!” If I ever walked up to a physicist and claimed I was not sure that a rocket had ever exited the Earth’s atmosphere, I would get a strange look. These sentiments are understandable, but they reflect only on a subset of skeptical beliefs. The history of skepticism is much too rich to be cast in a single light. I discuss three types here: 1) Epistemists; 2) Academics; and 3) Pyrrhonians. Though the terminology may be unfamiliar, suffice it to say all will soon be explicated. Typically, colloquial viewpoints on skepticism regard the second type I mentioned. My essay, however, focuses on the less well known Pyrrhonism, and it is my belief that such skepticism serves as a tool in science’s favor and not as some sour-faced nemesis to progress. It seems doubting serves to prevent dogmatic thought from controlling any system, be it science, history, or philosophy—among others. Doubting can be a good thing. In order to avoid questions of equivocating terms, I must lay out the differences between the three types of knowledge here. There is knowledge as certainty, which I will hold is an unreasonable position. Then there is Justified True Belief (JTB) as knowledge. Finally, there is what I call scientific knowledge, or knowledge based on probability alone. I define JTBs more fully in the next couple of paragraphs, but for now, suffice it to say that when JTBs reach sufficiently high levels of probability, they can be deemed knowledge. When a JTB is employed in this manner, it is equivalent to scientific knowledge. For example, a great deal of evidence presents itself in support of evolution. But some people, including many scientists I will discuss later, take this probability and extend to it a kind of certainty, changing what was merely probable into something with much more force—a certainty that infects the (T)rue part of JTB. This is because they now posit (unintentionally or not, and irrespective of verbal safety nets like ‘as best as I can tell’ and whatnot), that their belief is certain (e.g., that evolution occurs), and in so doing, they transformed true belief into false belief, since they believe (in this instance) that evolution is a true and certain fact of the material world. Certainty has been shown to be untenable by many great thinkers—from Plato (who formulated JTB theory) to Descartes, the skeptics, aFebruary 9, 2007 2:56 PM convincingly that one can always doubt a claim, no matter how much justification is offered. Because of this, many philosophers use the JTB model to qualify as knowledge instead, knowing certainty is never an option, but as I have noted, JTB is frequently taken beyond its meaning when the feeling of certainty is involved. False beliefs can never be knowledge, not in any of the senses in which I have listed. Therefore it is better to remind oneself that certainty cannot enter one’s mind. This is far more easily said than done. One must constantly fight to avoid certainty—this is why Pyrrho invented the ‘modes,’ which are mental exercises designed to keep one from feeling certain. In this way, the dogmatic mentalities that result from positions of certitude could be avoided, since dogmatism was perceived as irrational. One might define rational thought as strong, sound reasoning, whereas irrationality is weak, often emotionally involved reasoning. By employing JTBs in such a way as to make them JFBs, people are using the JTB method as an emotionally charged proposition machine—this is why it does not count as knowledge for the Pyrrhonian, so far as I can understand his position. Perhaps the distinction between JTBs and scientific knowledge is not tenable,but I do think it is worth examining here. It is my argument that when people hold their position to be certain, whether they are immediately aware of their connection to certitude or not, they are making emotional statements. The psychological power of certainty is tremendous. Is it not a nice feeling to perceive that a loving god exists? How much more would we pay for a stock estimate with certain results than one with highly probable results? Certainty gives us the idea that we are invulnerable to counter argumentation. This is precisely the dangerous position Pyrrhonians seek to avoid and exactly why scientists, in particular, should give this serious thought. Personally, I am not sure the emotional state of certainty can ever really be divorced from JTBs with extremely high probability; nevertheless, we should listen to the Pyrrhonian on this matter, even if our only aim is to learn how to better argue against him. Further discussion is contingent on defining selected terms. Epistemology is the study of knowledge. It asks what can we know; what counts as knowledge? Metaepistemology is a second-order philosophy focusing on questions like: how do we know that we know? It analyzes the propositions uttered by epistemologists, providing a distanced outlook to ensure epistemological statements are made reasonably. Typically, philosophers define knowledge as justified true belief, (hereafter JTB), meaning knowledge must exist according to these standards if it is to exist at all. The justification criterion, the question of what gives evidence or force to my (true) belief, is quarreled over endlessly in philosophical circles, and providing a listing of all, or even most, of the theories on justification is far beyond the scope of this essay. However, the fact that such widespread disagreement on the topic exists is indicative of a problem with knowledge as traditionally defined (JTB), since without positively identifying what counts as justification, it is a pickle to pin down knowledge itself. Pyrrho was a skeptic of the ancient times who gets credit for founding a particular school of skepticism. His skepticism was mainly about avoiding dogmatic thought by withholding judgment on all knowledge claims. The Pyrrhonian is neither positive nor negative, preferring to say “maybe, but maybe not; I simply do not have enough justification to adopt either position” when pressed as to their knowledge of X or Y. This may appear silly, but the reason for the position will become clear later in the essay. Borrowing from religion, one might call the Pyrrhonians ‘philosophical agnostics.’ A brief side step: what is this nonsense about doubting knowledge? When I know, I know—there is no doubt. If I see a dog, why should I doubt that I know there is a dog before me? There are many possible reasons to doubt our perceptions. Who among us has never seen something one was convinced was real, only to wake up at the buzzing alarm? Optical phenomena often create images so bizarre our brains interpret them to fit something it can understand, e.g., mirages or UFO ‘sightings.’ Or consider the more outlandish possibilities, such as existence in the Matrix or some such system. The point is that it is not always easy to rely on what we perceive, and therefore our ‘knowledge’ of things is frequently tenuous at best. The metaepistemological claims I make include the following: 1) the propositions used by scientists may be worthy in their filed and for their purposes, but it may be that they still do not yield knowledge as traditionally defined; 2) the propositions of epistemists are dogmatic and should be avoided; and 3) the propositions of Academic skeptics are dogmatic and should be avoided. The propositions of science may in fact constitute a special form of knowledge; this possibility is examined further down the essay. Going by the JTB model, we can readily see, after a brief examination, why science yields less secure information than one might wish. Many believe that should sufficient justification be provided, JTB reaches near the level of certitude—the ‘purest’ form of knowledge. This is not to say JTBs are regarded as certitudes, but generally something close to them. The problem is justification, and while most systems rely on some foundation or coherent collections of propositions, science relies on probability; moreover, science’s power lies in its ability to take probabilities and project them into the future, creating a fairly reliable network of generalizations and predictions. Unfortunately, systems based on probability leave room for the possibility of error, simultaneously granting science both flexibility and questionable status as a potential justifier. Typically, systems such as foundationalism and coherentism (to be discussed later) hold that the foundation or coherence that provides justification just is; it exists without the adverb probably, i.e., it is not considered a statistical possibility, but rather an actuality. There is built in doubt in the scientific enterprise, but I see this as more of a strength than a weakness. Allowing for the fact that it could be wrong in its predictions, a scientific proposition is buttressed by every successful verification it receives in the real world, strengthening the probabilistic nature of such propositions to such high levels that it would be safe to say “I know X based off of Y,” and so on; however, to distinguish it from JTBs, I call such knowledge ‘Scientific Knowledge.’ Unfortunately, scientists sometimes err in the most human of ways. Some become so sure of their system that it colors how they think and act on any number of issues, and this has occasionally allowed great minds to see the world as it is. Shortly following the ‘age of enlightenment,’ scientists and mathematicians began to believe that all possible knowledge was coming to a head, i.e., soon there would be nothing left to discover, prove, or validate. The brilliant mathematician David Hilbert believed this so strongly that he had engraved on his tombstone the phrase: wir mussen wissen, wir werden wissen, meaning ‘we must know, we will know.’1 At the time of his statement, it was not uncommon to believe a set of axioms used to build mathematical propositions would soon prove unassailable (likewise for scientific propositions). Viennese-Circle member Kurt Gödel came along to dash such hopes, showing, in effect, that axioms were themselves unprovable and, therefore, had to be taken essentially as a matter of faith but never as a matter of certainty. This is illustrated by the Liar’s Paradox. Consider this: suppose I make the proposition ‘I am a liar!’ Upon examining the statement, one realizes that if the statement is true, then it is also false; paradoxically, if it is false, then it is true. Clearly, this violates the logical law of the excluded middle, that is, a proposition cannot be both false and true at the same time. Similarly with axioms, or so it was thought; nevertheless, both before and after Gödel, scientists made claims that presupposed certainty of physical and biological principles. For example, Ernest Rutherford once claimed that “anyone who expects a source of power from the transformation of the atom is talking moonshine.” Ernst Mach said, “I can accept the theory of relativity as little as I can accept the existence of atoms.” Perhaps most astoundingly, Albert Einstein posited that “there is not the slightest indication that energy will ever be obtainable from the atom.” Each of these example are taken from physics and all of these men were giants in their field; nonetheless, they all fell prey to the dogmatic assertions of their day’s scientific paradigms: the atom was fascinating, but energy would never be obtainable from it—this was taken as given, and as such demonstrates the dogmatism that can plague even the best of us if we are not careful. I grant that each of these men changed their minds over time regarding the uses of the atom, but the point is that, at least at one time, they were certain of their false beliefs. There are dozens of similar examples in biology, chemistry, and other sciences. Physics, perhaps because it tackles so grand an understanding of our universe, is oft prone to the most obvious blunders. Other than the aforementioned atomic energy issue, I could mention the near universal acceptance of the ‘ether’ as a universal medium not too much more than a century ago. Michelson and Morley demonstrated that no such phenomenon existed, or, at least, that it was undetectable and unnecessary to explain our understanding of physics, despite James Clerk Maxwell’s insistence that the ether is a substance that passes through planets “as the water of the sea passes through the meshes of a net when it is towed along by a boat.” Scientists may claim that such errors are unlikely nowadays, since they readily admit their propositions are only probable and not certain; however, ask a physicist what he really thinks about relativity, or a biologist about evolution, and you are likely to find that in their heart of hearts, they believe them to be absolute facts of nature, and such beliefs influence how they interpret other observations. It may be 99.9 percent probable that evolution is a material fact, but when we take this as granted and refuse to reflect on other possibilities, we commit the error of dogmatic thought. A fact’s being dogmatically held is not indicative of such fact’s truth or falsity, so even dogmatic statements could reflect material truth—I believe evolution is one such instance but I am also aware that my belief is merely probable, so I cannot claim, dogmatically, that I am certain. What I can say is that I have scientific knowledge. Pyrrhonians also criticized other skeptics. The epistemists were those who believed we could have knowledge of epistemically interesting (EI) propositions. Essentially, they believed we can know things and not merely in the probabilistic sense. The Academics were the exact opposite, instead, holding the position that since we can never be certain of anything, we could never know anything. Neither of these positions is satisfactory. For the epistemist, doubt holds too little power and influence. They often operate exclusively within a paradigm, and to go outside of it is inconceivable. Also, the steadfast belief in their propositions can lead to dogmatic claims. As for the Academics, sheer skepticism is simply not practical. If we can never know anything, if all knowledge is denied, then how are we to function in our daily lives? If we could never know anything, then surely we would not survive for long—the Darwinian race would be lost at the starter’s line. Unless one’s friends took care of one’s safety, one would fall into pits, be mauled by angry dogs, or be run over by a car should sheer skeptical influence affect every action. (perhaps the academic would come to believe he can know things after such a misfortune. In this case, he would, as Robert Nozick pointed out, be “…forced to confess to the sins of credulity.” The true Academic befuddles the human condition, and hidden within their belief is the implicit notion that we can never be anything more than simple animals with no aspirations, since nothing epistemically interesting can be known. Tellingly, the academics position of EI denial is itself a dogmatic claim, since it cannot be falsified (nothing would ever disprove it). They rely on reasons to command the extent of what we can know, but neither reason nor experience have yet been able to conclusively rule on the matter. On the other hand, the Pyrrhonian skeptic would take the ideal of ‘withheld assent.’ Anything that could be genuinely disputed over any knowledge claim was not assented to by Pyrrho or his followers. By assent, I mean to say acceptance of such an instantiation of knowledge that is non-evident. Assenting to a non-evident knowledge claim such as ‘I know there are other minds than my own’ would be acceptable to certain epistemists but rejected by Academics. The Pyrrhonian would simply claim that he could not assent, but neither could he deny; hence, the Pyrrhonian withholds judgment, and in so doing, he avoids the dogmatic, vulnerable position taken by either of the other groups. It is important to note that the Pyrrhonian would not deny that we can have knowledge espoused by non-evident propositions. When pressed as to the veracity of the previously mentioned ‘minds’ proposition, he would likely say, “I am not able to say one way or the other that minds can or cannot be known.” This is why I have coined ‘philosophical agnosticism’ to describe their position. They use tools known as modes to assist them in avoiding coming to absolute conclusions, and I will describe them more fully later. Pyrrhonism developed, at least in part, as a result of inadequate attempts to solve one of the greatest epistemological puzzles ever encountered: the Pyrrhonian problematic. As was previously mentioned, the question of how much justification is enough to claim proposition p is a JTB remains hotly debated in epistemology. One can claim knowledge for p if it is justified—at least in the conveyance of such justification via language—by another proposition. The latter proposition must then also be justified by yet another one, and so on ad infinitum. This simply will not do; therefore, three solutions are commonly proposed: 1) the line of argumentation used for justification will eventually terminate in some original proposition, immediately justified in itself; 2) the line of argumentation will justify itself through some circularity of cohesive thought; or 3) the line of justification goes on forever and must be accepted. These positions are associated with foundationalism, coherentism, and infinitism, respectively. The Pyrrhonian will claim none of these attempts succeed in overcoming the justification problem, but he would not reject any of them out of hand—rather, he finds in each flaws and, more importantly, to prevent themselves from falling into dogmatic thought, they developed modes or ‘tropes,’ “…which lead to suspension of judgment.” It is to the modes I now turn my attention. Foundationalism is a tempting solution to the problem. After all, it would be nice to find a solid rock on which to build one’s system of propositions. Unfortunately, according to the first mode, any foundation proffered will automatically fail to stop the problematic from running roughshod over it. Speaking about a foundation, Sextus Empiricus claims: “…this criterion, then, he will declare to be true, or else false. But if false, he will be discredited; whereas, if he shall declare it to be true, he will be stating the criterion is true either without proof or with proof. But if without proof, he will be discredited; and if with proof, it will certainly be necessary for the proof also to be true, to avoid being discredited.” The so called self-justifying foundation should require no more power than it provides itself; however, the foundationalist faces one of two possibilities: 1) the epistemic regress continues or 2) he commits to arbitrary reasoning. This is due to the question of whether the ‘basic’ belief is truth-conducive, i.e., is there a reason the basic belief is true? As Empiricus pointed out, if there is a reason to believe p, then, such a reason is itself a proposition, and p was then never really basic after all. If a reason cannot be provided for p, then the foundationalist accepts p ostensibly as a matter of faith, and that is entirely irrational. The coherentist fares no better under the Pyrrhonian’s modes. His approach is creative: taking any given proposition p, propositions x, x, and z, etc., stand in relation to p, such that p is either a consequence, concurrence, or prelude of the other propositions; i.e., all of the propositions are seen in relation to one another in some kind of net, web, or circularity in such a manner as to give rise or support to one another—they cohere to form a JTB. Unfortunately, coherentists have the misfortune of seeing their ideas portrayed—sometimes fairly, sometimes not—as statements in a simple loop. For example: “I know that there is acid on my skin because my skin is boiling, and I know my skin is boiling because there is acid on it.” Aristotle once said this is “a simple way to prove anything.” So coherentism fails on that front. Another way to argue coherence is to say certain sets pf propositions group together to give warrant to another proposition, e.g., x, y, and z together justify the belief in the (true) proposition p. The Pyrrhonians would still shake their heads, for in assuming such a tactic, coherentists presuppose the existence of some kind of foundation in the combination of x, y, and z, and therefore, fall prey to the same pitfalls as foundationalists. Thus, coherentism does not solve problems. Again, the Pyrrhonian would not say he assents to or rejects coherentism but only withholds judgment. To the infinitist, it does not matter if one proposition after the next, on to infinity, is required to justify p. Why not, they might ask? Not only is their position unintuitive, but, philosophically, it is lacking, leaving us wondering about the nature of the infinite rather than the proposition in question. The Pyrrhonian would withhold assent, since it is unclear whether there is or is not a truly infinite series of reasons to consider. If the position open to us at this point is one in which we do not assent to having or not having knowledge, then we must ask ourselves if it is even possible to employ a Pyrrhonian worldview in the ‘real’ world. It is easy to claim the skeptic will bump into the beehive in front of his face because, though he may see it, he has no knowledge of it there. Lacking in practicality, extreme skepticism has already been rejected by this essay. The Pyrrhonian’s position is a feasible one, since he will function as amply as anyone else in his day-to-day affairs, and this is because he does not deny appearance. Note that “…the Pyrrhonian only withheld assent with regard to non-evident propositions. Assent to what was evident (i.e., what appears to be) or a weaker pro-attitude toward the non-evident were commonplace.” In other words, propositions like ‘I know there are other minds’ is non-evident, producing a great deal of argumentation between various kinds of philosophers, whereas, ‘I see a green apple’ is evident, questioned in any radical sense only by the Academics. We must be careful to note that assenting to the evident does not imply knowledge of the evident but rather that it is proper to act on or do the evident in order to live life. It is simply not interesting to spend time wondering about the apple when greater questions beg attention. To restate: Pyrrhonians do not deny appearances. They doubt what the appearance is. Consider this: what gives p precedence over ~p if I cannot say I know regarding either? How do I justify functioning in the world? E.g., how do I explain opening the door when the statements ‘I know there is a door there’ and ‘I do not know there is a door there’ simultaneously contain equal weight and equal doubt? The answer is in belief. Knowledge (as traditionally defined) requires belief, but belief does not require knowledge for its existence—they are not one and the same. It is not difficult to cull example from philosophical literature about believing a false statement; such events happen frequently, and this is why belief alone never constitutes knowledge. However, it is not unusual to act on a belief, and the Pyrrhonian is no exception. As previously noted, he does not deny what appears to him. Because of this, he would act on his belief, since refusing to act for wont of knowledge is just as irrational as believing one has certitude that one has/has not knowledge, and irrationality should be avoided. Pragmatically speaking, our skeptic would open the door if he saw one in his way. If our skeptic refuses to assent to knowledge, how does he conceive of science? I would argue no differently than the ordinary fellow. Science is a practice of generalization and induction, propagating itself via assertions with high-probability content, in such a way as to verify said assertions with each passing conformation of expected results. In essence, science is a numbers game, using induction to help us understand our world. Propositions based on science relate to other propositions, much as the coherentist might argue, in something I have termed the ‘probability matrix.” These statements reinforce or redirect one another based on the percentage of their verification and, by extension, their probability of correctness. For example, the principle of gravity is verified each time I let go of my pen and see it fall; the probability of an object’s falling on Earth is something like 99.99 percent. Such probability is so close to certainty that it can be called scientific knowledge, and this form of knowledge would be acceptable to the Pyrrhonian, since inherent in the definition of scientific knowledge is the notion of probability based on appearance and not certainty or quasi-certainty provided by JTB. Scientific knowledge exists in this sense and is aided by insistence on its probability and, by extension, its fallibility in light of countervailing evidence; so long as scientists remember this fact, they can use their knowledge to better the world, and Pyrrhonians would admit that in this way, even they have a colloquial kind of knowledge. Hopefully I have elucidated clearly on a somewhat challenging subject. I have shown that not all skeptics are painted with the same brush, and that some skeptics do not fit the populist notion of aloof thinkers but are like ordinary folk with their perspicacious wits and cautious judgments. Even if the question of justification remains to be answered, it is clear propositions are not so easily examined, and careful use of scientific propositions allow us to claim a tentative form of knowledge. Though most contemporary scientists would balk at accusations of dogmatic thought, the Pyrrhonian must remain vigilant, ensuring both for the good of science and the pursuit of knowledge that nothing is taken as certain. References Empiricus, Sextus. Outlines of Pyrrhonism. Amherst: Prometheus Books, 1990. Fumerton, Richard. Metaepistemology and Skepticism. Rowman and Littlefield Publishers Inc, 1995. Klein, Peter, “Skepticism,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2003 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = Landesman, Charles. Skepticism: the Central Issues. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2002. Nozick, Robert. “Philosophical Explanations.” Skepticism: A Contemporary Reader. Eds. Keith DeRose and Ted A. Warfield. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. Singh, Simon. Fermat’s Enigma. New York: Walker and Company, 1997. Youngson, Robert. Scientific Blunders: A Brief History of How Wrong Scientists Can Sometimes Be. New York: Carol and Graf Publishers, Inc, 1998.  Michael Dodge, from Long Beach,Mississippi, joined the Honors College in fall 2000 and will graduate in May 2005. Upon graduation, he will recieve a B.S. in biological sciences with a minor in chemistry, as well as a B.A. in philosophy with a minor in Latin. Michael helped to found Catalyst and is a member of numerous academic and social organizations, including Delta Tau Delta, his fraternity of which he was vice president from 2002-2003. He has published six abstracts for the Mississippi Academy of Sciences and two articles for Catalyst. His Honors College Thesis is titled: The Linkage Between the Breeding Season and the Biology of the Wood Thrush (Hylocichla mustelina) During Migration: Ptilochronology as an Evaluative Tool. |
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