Reply to Michael Behe’s gentle comment

Michael Behe posted a kind, brief comment on my previous post. As I began to write my reply, I realized his comment and my reply would interest many readers, and hence this separate post.

Here is his comment, and my reply follows.

Good day, Mike (if I may): Thank you for your kind words. I do appreciate the fact that you remain upbeat about my lab’s research, and much other work that you describe in your writings, even though I disagree with the “big picture” that you take from the evolution literature.

I find it interesting and personally enjoyable (despite some frustrations as well) that evolution remains such a “hot” topic. That’s true scientifically, with many extraordinary discoveries in recent years—from fossils like Tiktaalik and Archaeopteryx [edit: this one was discovered long ago, but it’s better understood now] to the DNA-based evidence that Denisovans and Neanderthals contributed to the genomes of many of us living today. It’s also the case that evolution remains “hot” for many non-scientists, and that’s wonderful. Whether for secular or religious reasons, we humans are deeply interested in where we came from and how we came about. In my own small way, I take pleasure in knowing that my lab’s research helps people get a glimpse of how evolution works.

I’m concerned, though, when these scientific and religious perspectives get intertwined and confused, even when they concern those big, important questions that interest all of us. I get even more concerned when I see what I regard as non-scientific ideas (such as “intelligent agents” introducing “purposeful design” by unstated and untestable means) being used to undermine the admittedly imperfect (and always subject to revision) understanding of evolution that science provides to those who want to learn. And I am most disturbed when these confusions appear to be part of a deliberate “wedge” strategy with ulterior sociopolitical motives. People will undoubtedly have diverse views about whether scientific explanations are adequate and/or satisfying ways to understand the world, but I see danger in trying to undermine scientific methodology and reasoning to advance religious beliefs and political goals.

The Philosophers’ Way

Sometimes we forget … forget to take a break, forget to go outside, and forget to reflect on our individual and collective pasts.

After an intense three days of talks at EMBO—hearing about exciting work by diverse and superb biologists in 13-minute chunks (plus Q&A); seeing dear friends Santiago Elena, Sebastian Bonhoeffer, and Roy Kishony; and making new friends, too—I’ve got the weekend to work quietly and explore Heidelberg.

Yesterday I took the beautiful hike known as Philosophenweg, or the Philosophers’ Way. After crossing the river Neckar, a quick right on Ladenberger Strasse, then the walk up past the grand houses and physics buildings before the gardens that overlook the river, old city, and castle perched in the hills across the way. There were also intriguing and enticing paths into the woods above, but I didn’t take them yesterday.

I returned this morning, despite the chill and overcast sky. The Philosophers’ Way was as scenic as yesterday, but I hardly lingered and hustled up the path to do some exploring in the woods today, hopefully before the rain began.

Off the main path, it soon became very quiet and beautiful in a different way—no longer the dramatic views across the river, and instead the smells, sounds, and colors of autumn in a beautiful forest. The sights and sounds of leaves falling and crunching under foot, and the smells of leaves, branches, and trees returning to the soil.

The slopes and colors and smells reminded me—not exactly, but close enough—of days long past when I hiked and worked in the forests of the Nantahala mountains in North Carolina. I’d be willing to bet there are a lot of carabid beetles in the woods above the Philosophers’ Way. And they have been walking through these woods far longer than the philosophers.

As I walked up and up, there were lots of paths, and at many of the intersections old stones with names, all unfamiliar to me. In particular, this one—Thingstätte—caught my attention. It seemed kind of funny, but maybe in a dark way. I wondered what it meant, and so I took a picture to remind me to look it up when I returned to the city.

My mind also wandered to these woods, and to history. There weren’t any markers of battles or massacres, but what did happen here in the 1930s and 1940s? With friends and family about 20 years ago, I went on a peaceful walk in the lovely forests near Krakow, where we came upon markers for sites of executions during the Second World War. And the violence of man (and it’s almost always men) against humanity continues—from crazed gunmen shooting on happy crowds to suicide bombers, genocidal wars, and even the threat of nuclear war.

In The Better Angels of Our Nature, Steven Pinker tells us the world is becoming less violent. But Peter Turchin warns us that history is nonlinear—it can come in waves, sometimes constructive but other times violent and destructive. I sure hope Pinker is right.

About that Thingstätte above Philosophenweg. It’s a large amphitheater in the woods, built by and for the Nazis. It was opened in 1935 with a speech by Joseph Goebbels, who called it “National Socialism in stone.” I’m glad that I turned around before I got there …

Can we all turn around now? Let’s take The Philosophers’ Way back from the brink, and get on with studying the amazing world that we all share.