Metaphors of Evolution 02/01/2011 Feb 01, 2011 — If Will Rogers never met a man
he didn’t like, science never metaphor it didn’t force. The history of science
is replete with examples of metaphors not only trying to explain phenomena, but
actually driving scientific research. Many times thoughtless metaphors have
said more about current social values than science. So argued Mary
Midgley, a “a freelance philosopher, specialising in moral philosophy,” in an
article on New
Scientist:
The trouble with metaphors is that they don’t
just mirror scientific beliefs, they also shape them. Our imagery is
never just surface paint, it expresses, advertises and strengthens our
preferred interpretations. It also usually carries unconscious bias
from the age we live in – and this can be tricky to ditch no matter how
faulty, unless we ask ourselves how and why things go wrong, and start
to talk publicly about how we should understand metaphor.
The article was developed from her book, The Solitary
Self. But did her conclusion learn the lessons of history? Here is a short
list of metaphors she found in science over the centuries:
Nature, the clock: Scientists in Newton’s day envisioned the world
as a mechanical clock wound up by God.
Nature, the billiard game: Early atomists interpreted everything as
colliding billiard-ball atoms. Rousseau applied this to “social atomism.”
Nature, the war of all against all: Thomas Hobbes’ metaphor of a war
of individuals “accidentally launched a wider revolt against the notion of
citizenship,” Midgley said. “The slogan made it possible to argue later that
there is no such thing as society, that we owe one another nothing.”
Nature, the capitalist: Laissez-faire capitalism, Midgley argued, is
an application of atomism to economics.
Nature, the competitor: Spencer and Darwin used the metaphor of
competition to interpret nature, although Midgley asserts that “Charles Darwin
actually hated much of it, flatly rejecting the crude, direct application of
natural selection to social policies.” Whether or not his emotions against
competition were derived from science or from his cultural milieu is another
question.
Nature as selfish genes: “Evolution has been the most glaring
example of the thoughtless use of metaphor over the past 30 years, with the
selfish/war metaphors dominating and defining the landscape so completely
it becomes hard to admit there are other ways of conceiving it,” Midgley
complained.
Nature as self-organization: D'Arcy Thompson, Brian Goodwin, Steven
Rose and Simon Conway Morris have worked on the metaphor of unfolding organic
forms, “a kind of self-organisation within each species, which has its
own logic.” Contrary to the long-held view of nature red in tooth and
claw, Goodwin has written that humans are “every bit as co-operative as we are
competitive; as altruistic as we are selfish.”
So did Midgley argue
that we need to rid science of metaphors? No; she proposed new and better ones
suitable for the 21st century – the language of integrated systems:
Now the old metaphors of evolution need to give
way to new ones founded on integrative thinking – reasoning based on
systems thinking. This way, the work of evolution can be
seen as intelligible and constructive, not as a gamble
driven randomly by the forces of competition. And if
non-competitive imagery is needed, systems biologist Denis Noble has a good go
at it in The Music Of Life, where he points out how natural
development, not being a car, needs no single “driver” to direct it.
Symphonies, he remarks, are not caused only by a single dominant instrument
nor, indeed, solely by their composer. And developing organisms do
not even need a composer: they grow, as wholes, out of vast and
ancient systems which are themselves parts of nature.
She did not reveal whether she is an admirer of John Cage’s
“chance music,” but his kind of music seems to be the only kind that emerges
without a composer. All other symphonies are usually composed and performed by
intelligent design. It could be argued, though, that even John Cage
purposefully chose to produce his works in certain directed ways. He had to
choose to sit at a piano, for instance, and decide not to play for 4 minutes and
33 seconds, turning pages at pre-designed “movements.” For the metaphor to
work, Cage would have had to step aside and do absolutely nothing – but even
that would be a choice.
Metaphors
bewitch you (07/04/2003). If Mary Midgley
wants to criticize earlier scientists for imposing their social values (like
competition) on nature, then how can she avoid being criticized for imagining
nature to be a self-organizing system? The next philosopher in future years
could just as easily sneer at Midgley’s own misguided conceptions of nature,
just as she sneered at evolutionists for being guilty of the most thoughtless
uses of metaphor. Is it even possible for humans to perceive nature
without metaphors? If you look at the list, all of the suggested metaphors have
presupposed intelligent agency: clocks, billiards, warfare, competition,
selfish genes, symphonies. Intelligence in the atomistic view is a little
harder to spot, until you recognize that colliding atoms presuppose natural
laws: spherical shapes, and consistent physics of collisions. Theists draw on
the metaphor of a Creator as Architect, Designer, Maker, and Overseer. That is
how God describes himself. So if every other metaphor already presupposes
intelligent agency, then theism must be the most accurate one. Metaphors,
therefore, can be true. If metaphors are inescapable, the symphony one is
a good one. God becomes the composer and conductor, His creatures the obedient
yet skilled musicians, the instruments the capabilities, skills and talents he
has endowed on his works. The music is extended in time, with moments of
tension and relaxation, periods where the listener is uncertain where the work
is headed, but all working toward a planned finale. Remove the sheet
music and the conductor, though, and you get nothing but endless tuning
exercises that all sound alike. Eventually the musicians leave and the music
stops, having gone nowhere. John Cage might be happy, but not the rest of us,
who know design when we see it and hear it. The fact that audiences vastly
prefer Mozart to John Cage just might reveal something about reality.
[2011/02/01] Metaphors of Evolution
