Philosophy Is Not Science

Most people view philosophy as a highly abstract discipline with very little connection to objective reality. Yet philosophy differs fundamentally from art, literature, or religion.

For roughly 98% of the history of Western thought, philosophy was considered the mother of all sciences and gave rise to most of the fields of inquiry that exist today. That is why the highest academic degree is called the PhD, a term meaning Doctor of Philosophy. At the same time, we live in an era when many people are no longer sure what the benefit or harm of philosophy is.

Most people view philosophy as a highly abstract discipline with very little connection to objective reality—a discipline more akin to art, literature, or religion. All of these disciplines have much to say about reality. But the prevailing assumption is that none of these statements count as knowledge until they are scientifically proven.

Yet philosophy differs fundamentally from art, literature, or religion, just as the meaning of the word philosophy, "love of wisdom," implies a considerable amount of objective knowledge. This knowledge must be obtained in its own way; otherwise, it would simply be another branch of science.

What is the objective knowledge that philosophy can bring but that cannot be attained through science? This is a question that is increasingly met—even among philosophers—with the bold answer "nothing." For many philosophers, in harmony with the prejudices of our age, have come to believe that only science has the potential to solve enduring philosophical puzzles such as the nature of truth, life, mind, meaning, justice, the good, and beauty.

Hence, many contemporary philosophers are entirely willing to present themselves as gatekeepers or intellectual servants of scientific progress. Their research is mainly used as a precursor to scientific discoveries and as a sedative that makes the pursuit of these discoveries more palatable and agreeable to the general public. For example, a philosopher named S. M. Liao recently argued that we should voluntarily begin bioengineering ourselves to reduce our carbon footprint and thereby become more virtuous.

Professor Colin McGinn also stated in one of his recent writings that he has grown so tired of the disrespect and misunderstanding directed at philosophy that he has asked other philosophers to call themselves "ontic scientists."

In McGinn's view, the name science is broad enough to encompass philosophy, since dictionaries define science as "any body of knowledge on any subject, systematically organized." But this definition is so vague that it reveals the common confusion about what science really is, and McGinn's reminder that the root of science comes from the Latin word "scientia," meaning knowledge, only confuses us further. For by this definition, any academic discipline could be called a science.

"Literary studies" becomes "literary sciences"—and its new name makes it more respectable. "Fine arts" becomes "aesthetic sciences"—a change that would certainly encourage more parents to urge their children to study art. Now that we are warmed up, let us replace the Bachelor of Humanities with the Bachelor of Natural Sciences. (I am even reluctant to point out these options, as famous university deans might get ideas.)

Writers and artists, a fortiori, do not deal with any form of science, because their disciplines deal more with subjective and qualitative standards than with quantitative and objective ones. Of course, this does not mean that only science can produce objective, quantitative knowledge. Philosophy can as well.

The rational culture of scientism impedes the understanding of science itself. Moreover, it overshadows alternative forms of knowledge – which are largely philosophical – forms that can practically bring us more certainty than scientific knowledge. While science and philosophy sometimes overlap, they are two fundamentally different approaches to understanding. Therefore, philosophers should not fuel the conceptual confusion that subsumes all types of knowledge under science. Rather, we must emphasize the fact that many of the disciplines we consider science are at least as philosophical as they are scientific – if not more so.

Consider, for example, mathematics, theoretical physics, psychology, and economics. These are predominantly conceptual-rational disciplines. In other words, these fields are not largely dependent on empirical observations. Because, unlike science, you can engage in them while sitting on your couch with your eyes closed.

Does this mean these disciplines do not yield objective knowledge? It must be said explicitly that this question is meaningless. In truth, if a finding from these fields is considered genuine knowledge, it may in fact be more enduring. Because, unlike empirical observations, which may be mistaken or incomplete, philosophical findings are fundamentally dependent on logical and rational principles. Similarly, while science changes and updates its findings daily through trial and error, logical deductions are always true. This is why Einstein proudly called the empirical efforts to confirm his special theory of relativity "mere details."

Last September, The New York Times reported that scientists at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) believed they had empirically disproved Einstein's theory that nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, but found they could not reproduce their findings in a subsequent experiment conducted a month later. Such empirical anomalies are bewildering. But as CERN research director Sergio Bertolucci put it simply, "This is how science works."

However, 5+7 will always equal twelve. No amount of observation will change this fact. While mathematics at this elementary level is testable, in its purest forms, such as analysis and number theory, it is no longer so. Proof at such levels is conducted entirely conceptually. Logic is the same; some arguments are immutably valid while others are immutably invalid.

Logically fallacious arguments can be complex and persuasive. Yet they are invalid and will always remain invalid. Exposing such errors is part of philosophy's task. Therefore, as Socrates pointed out long ago, much of the knowledge gained from philosophy consists of realizing what is not true.

One such case is Thrasymachus's claim that the best definition of justice is the advantage of the stronger, in other words, what benefits the stronger in a contest. Socrates demonstrates the absurdity of this statement by showing that wise individuals have no need to compete with others.

To use another example, Wittgenstein showed that an ordinary word like "game" is used in different ways without its definition being essentially a single form. Although it seems impossible, the meaning of such terms is actually determined by their contextual use. When we look at the faces of individuals in a family, we see a resemblance between their faces. Yet, there does not need to be one particular characteristic present in the faces of all family members to identify them as members of a family.

Similarly, the different uses of the word "game" form a family. The outcome of Wittgenstein's philosophy is that we realize language is a public phenomenon that cannot be logically invented in our solitude. These are, in fact, conceptual clarifications, and in this respect, philosophical truths are relatively timeless.

It is for this reason that the discipline of law qualifies as objective knowledge without needing to rename it “judicial science”—as some universities now use the term. Although this discipline draws on empirical research about human nature and the general functions of society, it fundamentally depends on the strength of the arguments of specialists who are evaluated by the logical validity and truth value of their hypotheses.

If both of these criteria are present, then the reasoning is sound. Thus, the justices of the Supreme Court are philosophical experts on the nature of justice rather than scientific ones. This does not mean that their expertise does not count as genuine knowledge. At its best, it rises to the lofty status of wisdom—the primary goal of philosophy.

Although philosophy sometimes employs thought experiments, thought experiments are not scientific, as they are generally conducted in the imagination of the individual. For example, judges imagine what would happen if “insider trading” were legalized.

They have concluded that while this might reduce legal costs and increase the level of freedom for investors, it would endanger the free market itself by undermining the integrity of the securities market and destroying investor confidence. While this question may seem empirical, it cannot be investigated purely empirically without this thought experiment, which is naturally beyond the capacity of law.

Only legislators could carry out this thought experiment by legalizing insider trading. Even then, this experiment could not be conducted in a fully scientific manner unless there were a separate control group, for comparison, in which insider trading remained illegal. Nevertheless, judges prevent its legalization for philosophical reasons.

Similarly, in ethics, science cannot necessarily tell us what to value. Science has made significant progress in helping us understand human nature. Such research, if accurate, places real constraints on philosophical constructs about the nature of the good. However, evidence of how most people are does not necessarily tell us everything about how we ought to be.

How we ought to be is a conceptual question; that is, how we should act stands in contrast to the empirical question of how we do act. We might construct scientific surveys to measure people’s sense of happiness and examine what causes they link to their level of happiness. But understanding how reliable these self-reports are is very difficult, as many people may not have a precise, coherent, and robust concept of happiness.

We might even ask them whether they find a particular moral argument convincing or not, more precisely, whether happiness should be the sole goal in life. But we do not, and should not, consider these results sufficient for determining the ethical standards of, say, the American Medical Association, because these results require philosophical analysis.

In short, philosophy is not science. It employs the tools of logical analysis and conceptual clarity instead of empirical measurement. And this approach, when carried out with precision, can sometimes yield knowledge that is more reliable and enduring than science. For scientific measurement is, in principle, always subject to a degree of readjustment based on observations we make in the future. Sound philosophical arguments, however, achieve a kind of immortality.

Therefore, if we philosophers wish to restore the authority of philosophy in public culture, we should not change its name but rather confront the issues that are important in our era—not as scientists, but as guardians of reason. This might encourage the general public to think more critically and, consequently, to become more philosophical.

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Philosophy Is Not Science

Julian Friedland

Translated by: Zuhair Bagheri Noaparast

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