Science and Moral Choice

Science and Moral Choice
An Examination of the Foundations of Moral Philosophy
By Ronald D. Icenogle, Ph.D.
“This book is an exposition of the basic principles of moral philosophy. In addition to

laying a foundation for the analysis of moral problems, the ideas in this book serve to
integrate our moral thought with scientific thought and to do so in a manner that ought to
appear commonsense to most people.”

Science and Moral Choice:
An Examination of the
Foundations of Moral Philosophy
By
Ronald D. Icenogle, Ph.D.
Copyright © 2013 by Ronald D. Icenogle. All rights reserved.
Published originally by Warren H. Green, Inc., Saint Louis, Missouri, U.S.A.

Copyright © 1996 by Warren H. Green, Inc.
ISBN No. 0-87527-518-4
(Warren H. Green, Inc. was dissolved in 2007)
This 2013 PDF e-book version has some changes compared to the 1996 print
version to improve the clarity of the text.
To Cecilia

Introduction
This book is an exposition of the basic principles of moral philosophy. In addition to
laying a foundation for the analysis of moral problems, the ideas in this book serve
to integrate our moral thought with scientific thought, and to do so in a manner that
ought to appear commonsense to most people. To demonstrate the utility and
importance of the ideas developed in this book, the first and last parts of this book
aim to help the reader understand the practical consequences of the failures in
modern thought and to show how a resolution of these problems clarifies thinking
about the problems of ordinary men and women. The middle part of this book
discusses more technical philosophical issues.
This work borrows from the philosophical work of others and from well-
established principles in logic, mathematics, and science. Where others have
developed basic philosophical concepts, my goal has been to explain these ideas
clearly for the general reader and to refer him to a few basic texts for a more
detailed explanation and defense of these ideas. When I disagree with particular
views of these authors, or when I have added additional insights of my own, I have
appealed to the reader to accept various concepts as commonsense and then
analyzed these concepts in the depth required for my basic purpose, which is to
develop a moral theory with a high degree of plausibility to the reader. Although in
most cases I have not included references to other works when I have discussed
basic principles in the sciences, the reader can refer to any of a number of sources
for further explication of these universally accepted concepts. Overall, I have tried in
this work to achieve a reasonable balance between developing sophistication in
areas of particular importance and treating the subject as a whole broadly enough to
demonstrate the practical utility of the ideas I present.
The approach I have taken in this book implies some basic notions about the
nature of philosophy and how it should be done. Foremost among these is that
philosophy ought to be primarily constructive and only secondarily analytical. That
is, the goal of philosophical analysis is to develop greater insight into an issue that
needs to be clarified for some particular purpose, the analysis proceeding as far as is
necessary to achieve the degree of understanding required for that purpose. This
vii
Introduction viii
approach to the performance of philosophy is essentially the same as that taken by a

scientist in developing theories to understand physical processes. The professional
scientist is trained to first adopt a model or theory that is simple enough to be
readily handled but sophisticated enough to yield useful insights. As knowledge
increases the model or theory is further developed, or perhaps abandoned in favor
of a more promising approach, but there is always a concern for the practical
applicability of the model or theory. Depth is achieved by successive improvements
to complete theories developed for specific purposes.
A significant number of the philosophical ideas adopted in this book are based
on the work of the American philosopher Mortimer J. Adler. Adler has taken the
position that philosophers made fundamental mistakes at the beginning of the
development of modern thought, and that these mistakes lay at the heart of the
problems of disunity and lack of progress that plague modern philosophy. He
advocates a correction of these errors and a return to many of the insights of
classical and medieval philosophy. Moreover, Adler argues that philosophy should be
primarily constructive and only secondarily analytical—the position adopted in this
book—and criticizes modern philosophers for placing analysis at the center of
philosophical speculation. I have found his ideas fruitful and have depended on his
analysis for many of the concepts that underlie this work, although I have supple-
mented them with insights from science and the philosophy and history of science.
However, I have taken exception to one of the key positions that Adler defends, a
position that I believe undermines the ability of his ideas to reconcile scientific and
moral thought. This can be explained as follows.
There are various opinions as to what constitutes the underlying “principle”
behind the progress of science. Two views that have been advocated are: (1) the
metaphysical doctrine of materialism, which holds that the world is essentially a
large mechanism and that spiritual entities, such as intellect and God, do not have
real existence; and (2) the “principle of continuity,” which holds that all physical
phenomena can be explained by laws that are completely consistent and recon-
cilable with each other, and that there are no radical differences in kind between any
types of material beings. Those upholding traditional moral principles and religious
values have tended to reject both of these, as does Adler, while those upholding a
scientific view of the world have tended to accept both of these. In this work I argue
that the results of science and the work of philosophers of science definitively refute
the first principle, but do strongly affirm the second. Many thinkers who reject the
second principle do so primarily because they believe that it implies the first, as
does Adler, but this is an error. A theorem of physics in effect shows that the
principle of continuity does not imply materialism, a theorem that arises in solving
the problem of “Maxwell’s Demon,” a problem that arises in the study of the Second
Law of Thermodynamics, which in turn underlies much of the thought in the
physical and biological sciences. In fact, the acceptance of the principle of continuity

Introduction ix
leads readily to a powerful argument for the existence of God, and with it a
reconciliation of scientific and moral thought that has a simplicity and elegance that
argues strongly for its essential correctness. Indeed, it is difficult to see in what
other manner a reconciliation could ever be achieved.
While the basic arguments I have presented in discussing this issue are those
criticizing the doctrine of materialism and affirming the principle of continuity, it is
significant that the reconciliation of these points of view, which lies at the heart of
moral thinking, involves a discussion of a theorem of physics that lies at the heart of
thinking in physics, chemistry, and biology. It is beyond the scope of this work to give
more than a simple heuristic analysis of this theorem and its implications, but if this
work motivates further examination of this subject it will have accomplished an
important objective.
In addition to discussing this and other fundamental issues in philosophy and
the philosophy of science, I also discuss many of the findings of modern science and
apply them to practical issues in moral decision-making. Of central importance
among these is a discussion of the new science of sociobiology, which is the
application of evolutionary theory to animal behavior, including human behavior. I
enlarge upon the principles of this science by discussing the work of the anthro-
pologist Margaret Mead and other social scientists. These ideas establish that the
family and the social roles of men and women are of central importance in under-
standing the nature of human society, and moreover, that the innate biological
differences between men and women are intrinsic to the manner in which family
and social roles are structured. Some have argued that the differences between the
roles of men and women are not innate to human nature but are purely of cultural
origin, and I discuss the errors in these arguments and clarify the misunder-
standings that they produce.
The discussion in this book has been directed towards the general reader. I
have done this because the ideas presented are of broad applicability. Moreover,
while many of the ideas in this book have already been soundly presented by the
authors I have cited, the basic assumptions and attitudes underlying this work are
not accepted by most academic philosophers, and thus there is no academic
specialty towards which this book could readily be addressed. Indeed, I anticipate
that significant advances in philosophy along the lines presented in this book, or by
other approaches that may prove fruitful, may well come from scientists and others
working from outside academic philosophy. History has shown that new ideas and
outlooks for a discipline often come not from within that discipline, but rather from
those who are somewhat removed from it. This book is addressed to those who may
be interested in examining the issues of moral philosophy from a perspective
different than is usually adopted for them.
Table of Contents
Introduction........................................................................................................................................ vii
I. The Philosophical Enterprise .............................................................................................. 1
II. Basic Principles of Moral Philosophy ............................................................................ 10
III. The Split in Western Intellectual Thought ................................................................... 20
IV. Commonsense Thought, Scientific Thought, and the Objects of Our Thought 34
V. Logic, Mathematics, and Scientific Truth ..................................................................... 47
VI. Materialism, Sociobiology, and Modes of Reality ...................................................... 63
VII. The Equivalence of Causal and Purposeful Thought ................................................ 74
VIII. Man's Place in the Biosphere ........................................................................................... 85
XI. Man's Place in the Universe ............................................................................................ 100
X. Time, Chance, and the Nature of Scientific Laws ..................................................... 114
XI. The Basic Characteristic of Life ..................................................................................... 128
XII. Evolution and Sociobiology ............................................................................................ 136
XIII. Sociobiology and Common Sense ................................................................................. 148
XIV. The Structure of Society................................................................................................... 160
XV. The Social Roles of Men and Women ........................................................................... 173
XVI. The Consequences of Desegregating the Sexes ........................................................ 184
XVII. The Forces Leading to Desegregation of the Sexes ................................................. 198
XVIII. The Ultimate Goal of Life ................................................................................................. 208
XIX. The Concept of Growth..................................................................................................... 223
XX. The Characteristics of a Good Society ......................................................................... 235
References ......................................................................................................................................... 246
Index .................................................................................................................................................. 249
xi

Chapter I
The Philosophical Enterprise

In this book I will be developing a moral philosophy. In doing this, it will be useful to
have some concept of what philosophy should be and how we should do it. Of
course, this is not necessarily an easy thing to do. Philosophers have argued about
the nature of philosophy ever since they first started to philosophize, and in this
century there has been a particularly intense debate on this matter. If we are to
make progress, though, we must have some idea of what we want to do.
The most satisfactory answer has been given by Mortimer J. Adler in The
Conditions of Philosophy (1965). In this book, Adler gives a description of the
general disarray within twentieth-century philosophy and lays down a set of
conditions that, if satisfied, would lead to an improvement in philosophy and make it
worthy of the same respect that is given to science. He then presents arguments to
support his claim that these conditions can be satisfied, and to refute the arguments
of those who hold opposing views of philosophy. In the process he further explicates
what he believes philosophy should be. Finally, he gives a review of how
philosophy’s view of itself has developed historically, which gives insights into why
philosophy has the problems it does and what its future promise is.
I will use his ideas as a framework for this book. I will explain in this chapter
some of the important points he makes in his book, although I will develop the
concepts somewhat differently and will add concepts of my own. In particular, the
ideas I have about the synonymy of our thinking about how the world works and
what we ought to be doing are not developed explicitly by Adler, although I will
show in later chapters that they are implicit in his work. I will not give a detailed
defense of the view of philosophy given here, although I recognize that it implies
certain assumptions with which many professional philosophers would disagree.
Most of the objections that these philosophers could make are addressed later in
this book, and it would be redundant to discuss them here. The reader who may
wish a more direct defense of this view of philosophy, and further explication of
many of the ideas presented here, can refer to The Conditions of Philosophy.
In the following I will often made reference to the notion of common sense, and
speak of ideas or actions as being practical. It will be helpful to understand more
1
The Philosophical Enterprise 2
precisely what I mean by these concepts.

When we say something is practical we usually mean it is something we can
use here and now. A scientist may make a new discovery or develop a new idea, but
if we cannot see any way to put that discovery or idea to use within a reasonable
length of time, we are likely to say that it is of “academic interest” and “not very
practical.” We may be wrong about this, but that is at least how we use the term.
When I say that the moral philosophy I am developing in this book is practical, I
mean that it is something that we can use here and now to help us make decisions. It
is not a philosophy designed solely for personal edification or spiritual satisfaction.
The idea of common sense is closely related. We speak of a person as having
“common sense” if he appears to know how to get things done here and now. If he
seems to do badly with everything, then we say that he “doesn’t have much common
sense.” Since most people are reasonably good at getting things done here and now,
another way of describing common sense is to say that it is “that which everyone
knows.” Everyone knows, for instance, that if you stand in the rain you are going to
get wet, and we say of a person without much common sense that he “doesn’t have
enough sense to come in out of the rain.”
When I say that the moral philosophy I am developing is commonsense, I mean
that it is something that will help us to get things done here and now. I also mean
that it should appear reasonable to most people and should correspond to how they
normally think about things anyway. However, since it develops ideas that are more
sophisticated than what most people use, it will help to clarify their thought,
particularly when they think about complex problems.
It would seem, then, that I have lain down as one of the conditions of this
philosophy that it should be practical and commonsense. Another way of saying this
is that this philosophy should be continuous with the thinking of the ordinary man:
it should address the same sort of problems he addresses, and should analyze them
in the same sort of way he does. Since we are attempting to advance or clarify his
thought, the thinking we employ in this philosophy should be more skilled than that
of most men, but it should not be distinctly different in kind.
Everybody must have a philosophy of some sort—we all must have some
notion of how the world works and what we ought to be doing—and whenever we
attempt to understand and solve our problems we are in effect philosophizing. The
purpose of “philosophizing” in the sense of a special activity is to do the sort of
thinking we do all the time, but to do it more skillfully and with the objective of
understanding in greater depth what we believe about how the world works and
what we ought to be doing. This becomes particularly important during times of
trouble, when we know that what we believe or what we are doing is no longer
working for us, or times of great opportunity, when we know that some significant
new possibilities have opened up for us. We know at these times that the decisions

we make can seriously affect our future happiness. Since these are times of great
emotion, they can also be times when it is the most difficult to think rationally. If we
have learned to think well in our daily lives, we will be prepared for these
exceptional times.
Now that I have stated that one of the conditions of this philosophy is that it
should be practical and commonsense, and have given some idea of what these
terms mean, I will point out a characteristic of moral philosophy that should be
apparent to most people: our understanding of how the world works is intimately
connected with what we think we should be doing. If we learn that the tire on our
car is flat, for example, that leads us to decide that we ought to change the tire.
In this book I will refer to our understanding of “how the world works” as our
understanding of “reality in terms of cause,” while I will refer to our understanding
of “what we ought to be doing” as our understanding of “reality in terms of purpose.”
In doing this I am implying that there is one reality, and that thinking in terms of
cause and thinking in terms of purpose are just different ways of viewing the same
reality. In doing this, I know that I am taking a position that is contrary to that of
most professional philosophers, but I will defend this later in this book.
These two ways of viewing reality correspond to the two divisions of what
Adler calls the “first-order questions” in philosophy. These questions are the subject
matter of metaphysics on the one hand, and moral philosophy on the other.
Metaphysics is our philosophy of how the world works, while moral philosophy is
our philosophy of what we ought to be doing. These two fields can have autonomy of
their own, with questions that belong to them alone and not to other fields.
However, in the practical decisions we make about how the world works and what
we ought to be doing we also incorporate our knowledge of science, history, and
mathematics. Thus, questions about reality in terms of cause are answered by
science, history, mathematics, and metaphysics, while questions about reality in
terms of purpose are answered by science, history, mathematics, and moral
philosophy. Since thinking in terms of cause and thinking in terms of purpose are
simply different ways of looking at the same reality, the questions we ask when we
think in terms of cause are often similar to those we ask when the think in terms of
purpose. This is shown by the fact that both ways of thinking share a common body
of knowledge: science, history, and mathematics. Even when we deal with questions
that belong to metaphysics and moral philosophy alone, we find that they share
similar concepts. For example, both metaphysics and moral philosophy make use of
the concept of the freedom of the will.
The questions of metaphysics include such questions as the nature of being and
existence, the modes of being and types of existence, what change is and what types
of change there are, the material and immaterial, the nature and extent of human
knowledge, and freedom of the will. The questions of moral philosophy include

such questions as what we ought or ought not to do, good and evil, the order of
goods, right and wrong, duties and obligations, happiness, the meaning of life, the
state and its relation to individuals, and justice. As explained earlier, moral philos-
ophy can be subdivided into ethics and politics, the former dealing with the
individual and the latter with the state.
Metaphysics and moral philosophy, which are the two branches of first-order
philosophy, are autonomous branches of knowledge with questions that are distinct
from science, history, and mathematics. What are the fundamental distinctions
between these fields?
To understand the distinctions between first-order philosophy on the one
hand, and science and history on the other, we need to understand the difference
between common experience and special experience. Common experience is the
experience that all people share in life, while special experience is experience that
only a few people have. Examples of common experience are breathing, sleeping,
talking, and thinking. Examples of special experience are studying historical
manuscripts, performing a physics experiment, and psychoanalyzing a patient.
Metaphysics and moral philosophy rely on common experience to verify their
theories and conclusions, so first-order philosophy determines truth about matters
that are of importance to all people and can be judged by all people. Science and
history rely on special experience to verify theories and conclusions, so they
determine truth about matters that may or may not be of importance to most
people. Moreover, to a large extent we have to rely on authority for judgement of the
truth of the claims of science and history.
Another way of explaining this difference is to say that first-order philosophy is
non-investigative, while science and history are investigative. To make advances in
science and history, men have to do experiments, study manuscripts, or do other
special investigative work. To make advances in philosophy, however, a person only
needs to think about and analyze his own experiences, although he should seek help
from other philosophers who have also thought about these matters, as well as from
the results of science, history, and mathematics when they are applicable.
Between science and history, the difference is that science is general and asks
questions about universals, while history is particular and asks questions about
singulars. In other words, science aims at creating general theories about the world
that are applicable at all times and places. History, on the other hand, aims at
understanding particular events that have occurred only once. In practice, some
fields that are called sciences have some of the character of history. For example,
taxonomy includes in its classification scheme extinct species that no longer exist. As
another example, anthropology is acting as science when it seeks to develop general
principles about how human societies are organized, and is acting as history when it
studies particular cultures and societies. Similarly, many historians have

made efforts to develop general principles about the development of civilizations.

Summarizing the above, metaphysics and moral philosophy differ from science
and history in that the former are non-investigative while the latter are investigative.
A non-investigative field relies on common experience to verify its theories and
conclusions. An investigative field, on the other hand, relies on special experience.
It is important to understand that metaphysics and moral philosophy are like
science and history in that they are empirical, and the theories and conclusions of
metaphysics and moral philosophy are subject to verification. They are not some
higher or more edified kind of knowledge. Except for a very few statements that are
taken as self-evident, the results of metaphysics and moral philosophy are not to be
considered incontrovertibly true. Like science and history, metaphysics and moral
philosophy are judged by their ability to explain reality, and if new theories are
developed that explain reality better than earlier theories, then they should be
accepted as true in the same way that new scientific and historical theories are
accepted as true.
Since metaphysics and moral philosophy are empirical and we can judge
theories and conclusions as true or false by appeal to common experience, there
must be some standard by which we judge them. Thus, intimately associated with
metaphysics and moral philosophy, as with history or science, is our epistemology,
or theory of knowledge. As I will explain in more detail later in this book, the criteria
for the truth of the answers to the first-order questions of metaphysics and moral
philosophy are essentially the same as that for the answers to the questions of
science and history.
In addition to the first-order questions of metaphysics and moral philosophy,
philosophy also has what Adler calls “second-order questions,” which are not
questions about common experience but rather questions about our first-order
knowledge. Second-order philosophy is formal rather than empirical, and thus does
not appeal to common experience for verification. It is thus very similar to
mathematics. Second-order philosophy includes logic and other analytic and critical
branches of philosophy.
The following will help summarize the similarities and differences among first-
order philosophy, second-order philosophy, science, history, and mathematics. First-
order philosophy is like second-order philosophy and mathematics in that all of
these fields are non-investigative and do not rely on special experience. We can
make advances in these fields just by analyzing what we have already experienced
and what others have said about the same problems. First-order philosophy, second-
order philosophy, and mathematics are contrasted to science and history, which are
investigative and require special experience to advance. But, from another point of
view, we can say that first-order philosophy is like science and history in that all of
these fields appeal to experience to determine the validity of their conclusions.
Science and history must appeal to special experience, while first-order philosophy

must appeal to common experience. First-order philosophy, science, and history are
contrasted to second-order philosophy and mathematics. Although second-order
philosophy and mathematics require common experience for a few self-evident
axioms, they do not require appeal to experience to determine the validity of their
conclusions.
Another useful point, which Adler does not make, is that there can be
experience common to a large group of people but not to all people. We can thus
develop a philosophy of science, for example, by appealing to the common
experience of scientists or particular groups of scientists. Ultimately we may wish to
relate this knowledge to the common experience of all people, but the distinction is
useful in sub-dividing philosophy.
These classifications give us a useful understanding of what philosophy should
do. They are predicated on certain conditions that philosophy should meet. Adler
states five conditions.
The first condition is that philosophy should be a branch of knowledge, and the
results of philosophy should be considered knowledge. This knowledge is different
than that obtained by science and history, but it is still knowledge in the sense that it
can be true or false. The knowledge that philosophy obtains is, except for a few self-
evident principles or analytic judgements, of the same order as that obtained by
science and history. It requires appeal to experience for its truth or falseness, and is
thus not a loftier knowledge that is of a higher order than that obtained by science
and history. It is also not a lesser kind of knowledge, as would be implied if we
considered it mere opinion.
The second condition is that philosophical theories or conclusions must be
capable of being judged by appropriate standards. These standards should be
comparable to the standards used by science and history.
The third condition is that philosophy should be carried out as a public
enterprise and that the theories and conclusions of philosophy should be capable of
debate. In stating this, Adler is criticizing philosophers who build personal systems
of philosophy that must be accepted or rejected as a whole and are not subject to
criticism or debate on specific issues. For philosophy to meet this condition it should
be much more like science and history than like poetry or music; personal, sub-
jective philosophies are not appropriate. Since philosophy is non-investigative,
however, it should not be specialized to the same extent as science and history.
The fourth condition is that philosophy should have relative autonomy, or some
degree of independence from other branches of knowledge. It should have questions
of its own and methods of its own, even though it will also deal with mixed questions
that involve history, science, or mathematics as well as philosophy.

The fifth condition is that the primary questions which philosophy must
address are the first-order questions of metaphysics and moral philosophy, and the
mixed questions that I have called questions about reality in terms of cause or in
terms of purpose. Philosophy must thus be chiefly constructive or synthetic, and
only secondarily should it be critical or analytic. In other words, the first-order
questions are more important than the second-order questions. We answer the
second-order questions only to help us answer the first-order questions. This
corresponds to how we think about things practically: we consider our
understanding of how the world works and what we ought to be doing as more
important than how we should go about analyzing what we know.
Now that I have explained the conditions that Adler believes that philosophy
should and can meet, and which I have adopted for this book, the notions of practical
and commonsense that I discussed earlier are more apparent. When I say this
philosophy is practical and commonsense, I am saying that it is based on experience
that I believe to be common to all men. I will also be appealing to the reader’s own
experience to judge whether the ideas in this book are truthful. The validity of this
philosophy will depend on whether the reader finds it useful in understanding his
own life.
Related to this notion of practical and commonsense is the point that Adler
makes that philosophy should not be esoteric or out of touch with the world and
beliefs of ordinary men. When I say that this philosophy is practical and common-
sense I am saying that it is not esoteric.
This may be fine to state, but after going further in this book the reader will
find that much of what I discuss is quite abstract. Moreover, he will find that I appeal
to the investigative results of science as much as I do to common experience. How do
I justify this with my stated objectives?
On the first point, just because philosophy is complex and requires abstract
concepts to develop does not mean it is esoteric. Many problems in life are complex,
but are still of concern to the ordinary man. If abstract reasoning can help us to
understand them then the philosophy we develop is not esoteric.
On the second point, I think the appeal to investigative science is helpful, but I
do recognize that it is potentially dangerous in that it can be used to subvert our
common sense, particularly when we discuss ideas in the social sciences about
which many people disagree. When I discuss scientific concepts, and the
understanding of science we have gained from the philosophy and history of science,
I will always relate them to what I believe is the common experience of most people.
In other words, I will try to show that they support rather than subvert what I
believe is common sense for most people. The philosophy and history of science in
particular gives us an understanding of science that relates it to the common
experience of man. When properly understood, even the special concepts

of quantum mechanics and general relativity, which deal with phenomena quite
removed from common experience, do not inherently contradict our normal
understanding of what we experience in our daily lives.
While I try to show that the results of science do not conflict dramatically with
common sense, I do recognize that the advances science has made have had a
profound effect on what people generally understand to be true. Many primitive
cultures believed that what we call inanimate objects, like stones and plants, were all
possessed by living spirits; to those living in such a culture, this was “common
sense.” For the free citizens of Athens in the time of Plato and Aristotle, it was
“common sense” that slaves were an inferior type of human being and were only
suited for menial labor. And most of us accept as “common sense” that we have
unconscious thoughts and emotions, although these concepts were quite radical
when Sigmund Freud first introduced them. So, although I don’t believe that the
scientific theories I discuss in this book should cause us to deny the most basic
things that we understand to be true, I do think they can aid us substantially in
understanding how the world works. It is for this reason that I include a great deal
of science in this book and do not limit my discussion purely to the questions of
philosophy.
The reader may accept all of this, but he may still argue that what I discuss
would not be accessible to many people who may find this work difficult, or who
may not wish to spend the time necessary to understand it. How would I answer this
objection?
My answer would be that, while this book is complex and abstract at times, I
could extract out of it the main concepts that a person needs to understand in order
to make this a workable, practical philosophy to use in his everyday life. In other
words, I could rewrite this book in a way that it could be readily understood by the
average person who did not want to spend the time and energy it may take to read
this book in its present form. If I did this, I believe that most people would find that
the ideas made sense and were useful. I have not done this here because I wish to
convince not just the average reader, but also professional scientists and
philosophers who would be able to find grounds to criticize a simpler work, but
whose objections are answered here. Also, I believe I have solved some important
and general problems in the process. In principle, however, I could extract a
simplified version that would appear reasonable to most people.
I think I have by this time given the reader a good general understanding of my
conception of philosophy and what I wish to accomplish in this book. I need to
explain an additional point that Adler discusses in The Conditions of Philosophy: this
view of philosophy necessarily rests on two presuppositions. As I will explain more
thoroughly later, all rational arguments for the truth of some view or theory are
ultimately circular in that they have to rest on some presuppositions. This is true

in science as well as in philosophy. I wish to state what these presuppositions are at

the start.
The first presupposition is that there is a reality outside our minds; that this
reality has a structure of its own regardless of how we think about it; that this
structure is intelligible; and that reality provides us with the basis for determining
the truth or falseness of our ideas about its structure. In other words, the world is
not a figment of our imagination, but something that actually exists and can be
understood by us. The world is not an illusion, and its structure is not altered by our
understanding it.
The second presupposition is that man has a determinate specific nature which
is itself a determinate part of the real world; that his determinate nature includes
cognitive powers that give man the ability to know what is knowable about reality,
including himself; and that these cognitive powers include not just the sensitive
powers of perception, remembering, and imagining, but also powers of under-
standing and reasoning.
The first presupposition is one that I think most people would accept without
much thought: the world actually exists, it wouldn’t be much different if we weren’t
here to think about it, and we can know something about how it works. The second
presupposition is also one I think most people would accept: people have ways in
which they are similar, people are able to learn something about how the world
works, and people make decisions about what to believe and how to act.
The second presupposition contradicts the views of many philosophers and
social scientists. The existentialist proposition that “existence precedes essence”
effectively denies that man has a determinate human nature and leads to the view
that man can become anything he chooses to become. Marxism is similarly based on
the denial that there is any such thing as a human nature, and leads to the view that
man’s behavior is entirely relative to the circumstances in which he finds himself. As
will be explained later in this book, these views are contradicted by modern science
and are untenable. Ultimately it will be shown that the second presupposition given
here is necessarily implied by the first presupposition, so the denial that man has a
determinate human nature and the cognitive powers to understand himself and the
rest of reality is tantamount to denying that there is a knowable reality outside our
minds. At that point, I will have to rely on the reader’s common sense to recognize
that the world actually does exist.
Chapter II
Basic Principles of Moral Philosophy

In this chapter I will develop some of the basic principles of moral philosophy. These
are concepts which we can use to help us make decisions about what we ought to
seek in life, what we ought or ought not to do, what is good or bad for our lives, and
what is right or wrong in our actions towards others and their actions towards us. I
think these principles will appear reasonable to most people, and I will try to
support them by an appeal to the reader’s common sense. However, the reader does
not have to accept all of them as given at this time, since in the remainder of this
book I will defend these principles and develop greater insights into what they
mean. At the end of this book I will return to these basic principles and develop the
most directly applicable concepts of moral philosophy in greater depth.
I have said before that this philosophy will help us apply the kind of practical
thinking all of us use in our everyday lives to the more complex problems we face in
our personal lives and in our society. In order to do this, we must have some idea of
how we think when we use common sense. In this chapter, I will examine how we
think when we make decisions about the things we want to have and how we ought
to get them—our thinking about ends and means.
The first idea that I want to establish is quite simple but of central importance
to moral philosophy: there are a variety of things we want and need, and some of
these are more important than others. I will illustrate this with an example.
Let us imagine a woman who has just graduated from college and has moved to
a new city to start a job with a medium-sized corporation. Let us suppose that she is
single and has no special boyfriend, and she is employed as a market analyst in
Cincinnati.
When she first arrives in Cincinnati, what is most important to her? She’s
hungry, so first she finds a good restaurant and buys a meal. Then she needs to find a
place to stay. Her company has agreed to pay her hotel expenses for a few days as
she looks for a place to live, so she checks into a nice hotel and starts looking in the
newspaper for apartment ads. She calls a few places, and goes out that evening to
look at them.
The next day she goes to work, at which time she sees a personnel director who
10
Basic Principles of Moral Philosophy 11
introduces her to some of the company’s policies. She has a chance to meet some of
the people with whom she will be working, and is shown where she will work. In the
evening she again goes out looking for an apartment.
Later that week she finally gets an apartment, and then she starts worrying
about furniture and other things for the apartment. She’s also learned more about
her job and starts thinking about what exactly she needs to do at work and how she
should do it. After a month or so she’s pretty settled, her apartment is in reasonable
order, and things are progressing fairly well at work.
At this point she becomes concerned about other things, such as making more
friends. She has some friends from work, but as a whole her social life is not so good,
and in particular she doesn’t seem to be meeting any interesting men. She likes sail-
ing, so she joins a sailing club, and after a while she is busy going to sailing meets
and organizing some of the club’s social activities. After she has been in Cincinnati
about a year her social life is fine, and her job is going smoothly.
I could continue this story to where she finds a boyfriend, gets married, has
children, as well as explain how her career progresses. For that matter, I could make
things more dramatic by imagining that she grows to dislike her job and quits it to
take another. But regardless of how her life develops, I think I have made an obvious
point: at different times in her life some things are more important to her than other
things, and she has some notion that some things should be done first and other
things later. For example, it would seem silly if the woman checked into the hotel and
then immediately joined the sailing club and started getting busy with its activities
before looking for an apartment. We certainly wouldn’t expect her company to pay
the hotel costs. Related to this notion is the notion that the things we do later are in
some sense more important, or should be more important. For example, the woman
probably thinks that having a nice apartment is important, but having friends is
more important. This doesn’t mean that she will want to sleep in the street and
spend all her time making friends, but just that at some point it is foolish for her to
spend her time and money buying nicer and nicer things for her apartment rather
than going out and making friends.
In telling this story, I am appealing to the reader’s own similar experiences to
establish what I think is an obvious fact. We have different things we want and need,
and there is some ordering of these things in our mind. Moreover, we in some sense
see things of a lower order as leading to other things of a higher order, and that the
things of a higher order are in some way more important than those of a lower
order.
The things that we want or need I will call “ends” or “goals.” The ends that we
consider as leading to other ends of a higher order I will call “means.” And the
concept that as our life progresses we become concerned with ends of greater
importance I will call “growth.” The above commonsense observation can then be
restated: we have different ends we want and need, some of these ends are means

to ends of greater importance, and as we grow we become concerned with ends of

increasing importance. I think this statement will appear reasonable to most people.
The concept of growth is of central importance to moral philosophy. I have
defined it as obtaining ends of increasing importance, which we can relate to the
story of the woman starting a new job in a new city. As she gets settled in her
apartment and at her job, develops her social life, and so on, we think of her as
growing in some sense. If at some point she simply stops doing new things and
instead just does her job routinely, goes home in the evenings and watches television
a lot, visits the same old friends all the time, and never bothers to buy anything new
for her apartment, we may suppose that she has stopped growing. And if she starts
drinking heavily, misses work often, and becomes hostile to her friends and starts
losing them, then we would figure she has taken a step backwards. Intrinsic to our
understanding of how we should be living our lives is the concept that we should be
growing in some sense.
While the concept of growth is of central importance to moral philosophy, I will
not discuss it in much detail in this chapter. Later in this book I will return to this
concept. In this chapter I will discuss mostly how we order the ends we want and
need, and the relation between the ends we pursue and the means we choose to get
them.
The decisions we make about the ends we want to obtain and the means we use
to get them I will call our values or choices. I will use the term moral values or moral
choices to mean all of our values or choices. I am thus using the terms “values” and
“choices” in a general sense to mean both the things we decide we want in life, such
as a candy bar, security, a dog, peace and contentment, or listening to a concert, and
also the ways we decide to get them, such as putting money in a candy machine,
obtaining a good job with a large corporation, going to the local kennel, taking up
meditation, or buying a ticket for the symphony. I will use the term moral principles
in a much more limited sense to mean only concepts by which we understand what
things we want and how to get them. Our moral values or moral choices include real
things we may want to possess and real things we may want to do, as well as more
general ideas about how we ought to live our lives. Our moral principles include only
the more general concepts of how we ought to live our lives and do not include
tangible things or real experiences.
As I said before, “ends” or “goals” are the things we decide we want or need,
while “means” are the ways we decide to get them. I will divide ends and means into
different groups in a variety of different ways. For example, later I will talk about
“economic” ends to denote goods used to sustain our lives and to help us obtain
other things. Our decisions about what economic ends we ought to obtain and the
means we ought to use to get them would then be called our “economic values” or
“economic choices.”

An important way to divide up ends is to divide them into the groups of

perceptible ends and imperceptible ends. To understand this division, we need to
understand that one of the actions of our senses is to perceive things that exist in the
world. Any end that can be perceived by our senses is a perceptible end. This can
include tangible things that can be possessed, such as a candy bar or a dog, or
intangible things that cannot be possessed but only experienced, such as listening to
a concert. What perceptible ends have in common is that all of them are things that
exist in the real world and can be perceived by the senses. In contrast, imperceptible
ends are things that cannot be perceived by the senses, but can only be conceived by
the intellect. This group contains no tangible things, but only intangible ideas about
what we want, such as security, contentment, or happiness. Note that security,
contentment, or happiness are things that we may suppose we can feel, or will
produce certain feelings, but they are certainly not real things that can be possessed
or experienced as one can a candy bar or a symphony concert. We cannot go out and
buy a piece of security, or go to security and perceive it. Rather, these are concepts
by which we understand what we may want or need in life.
Another term I will use to mean perceptible ends is goods. Perceptible ends and
goods mean exactly the same thing. I am using goods in a broader sense then it is
usually used, since I am including not only tangible things that can be possessed, but
also intangible things that can only be experienced by our senses.
Now, as I discussed earlier, there are many things we may want in life, such as
candy bars, security, symphony concerts, justice, or a dog, but not all things are of
equal importance. We may decide that justice is more important than a candy bar, or
that a dog would be nicer than going to Handel’s Messiah. Furthermore, we recog-
nize that some ends are means to other ends of greater importance. For example, we
may desire to put money into a candy machine, but we may not see it as important in
itself but only as a means to get a candy bar. If we don’t get our candy bar, we will
probably wish we hadn’t put our money into the machine. To make sense of all the
ends we may desire in life, we need some ordering of the ends in terms of their
importance, along with an understanding of the relationship of some ends as being
means to other ends. I will make a start towards doing this by dividing the ends we
desire into three large groups, and will explore how we think about the ends in each
group as means towards other ends.
For simplicity, I will first consider only perceptible ends. The question I now
ask is: what are the primary perceptible ends, or goods, for which we strive? In other
words, what are the most important things that we can possess or experience in life?
My answer is that the primary goods towards which we strive are friendship, sex,
love, marriage, and producing and raising children. In other words, the goods of
greatest importance to us are those that involve relationships with other people that
in themselves give us some sort of satisfaction. The goods in this group do not

include tangible objects and intangible experiences that are not directly connected
with our relationships to other people, nor do they include those relationships, such
as many business relationships, that are not desired for themselves but rather are
seen as necessary means towards other ends. By saying that the goods in this group
are the goods of greatest importance to us, I do not mean that everyone will desire
friends, sex, love, marriage, or children, but rather that when they do desire them
they consider these the most important perceptible ends in life. Other perceptible
ends may be seen as means to these ends, but the goods of friendship, sex, love,
marriage, and producing and raising children are not seen as means to higher
perceptible ends. Of course, we may subdivide this group by saying, for example,
that marriage is a means to the end of raising children, but I am not concerned with
such subdivisions at this time, only with large classes of ends. I will call friendship,
sex, love, marriage, producing and raising children, and related goods sexual goods.
The goods of this sort that we decide we want and the means we decide to use to get
them I will call our sexual values or sexual choices. Since these goods are the most
important perceptible ends we desire in life, our sexual values are of primary
importance to our moral philosophy and give structure to our other moral choices.
After sexual goods, what goods are considered next most important? My
answer is that the secondary perceptible ends towards which we strive include
chiefly the tangible goods we need to sustain our lives and to help us get other
things we may want or need, and the intangible goods associated with getting these
tangible goods. In other words, the next most important goods in life are those
usually obtained by working at a job, such as money, a house, a car, and other
tangible goods, along with business contacts, college degrees, retirement plans, and
other goods related to working at a job. Other sources of money or tangible goods,
such as an inheritance or prize money, would also be included. Although most goods
of this group are means to other ends, there are some that may be desired solely for
themselves, such as perhaps a fine sculpture or listening to a symphony concert. In
those cases when a person makes a friend, has sex, marries, or has children not
because he desires these things for themselves, but purely as a means for something
else, then these things would not be considered sexual goods but rather goods of
this group of secondary perceptible ends. Examples would be making a “friend”
solely for business and not because of affection, or marrying a woman solely “for her
money” and without any love or desire for the woman. I will call all of these
secondary perceptible ends economic goods, and our decisions about what goods of
this sort we want and the means by which we should get them our economic values
or economic choices. Our economic values are subordinate to our sexual values.
To illustrate that we consider sexual goods as more important than economic
goods, we can consider an example. When asked why they work so hard at their

jobs, many married men will reply that they do so because they have a responsibility
to support their families. We can readily accept such an explanation as reasonable
even if we suspect they may have other motives. But thinking in the opposite fashion
does not seem plausible. It doesn’t seem reasonable if a man says he loves his family
and wishes to support them because he works so hard at his job. A job is not
conceived as an end to which friendship, sex, love, marriage, and children is a
means; rather, it only makes sense to think of friendship, sex, love, marriage, and
children as an end to which a job is a means.
In general, this ordering of sexual goods as more important than economic
goods pervades our common sense. We may admire a man who sacrifices his life to
save the life of a friend or a child. But it seems foolish if he sacrifices his life to save
his automobile. We also assume that men will fight harder in war if they are pro-
tecting their homes and families than if they are fighting only for money. It is basic to
a sound moral philosophy to recognize that the most important perceptible ends in
our lives are people, particularly the people we love. This is simply a matter of
common sense.
By definition, all perceptible ends are either economic goods or sexual goods.
Thus, it might appear that our economic values and sexual values include all our
moral values. However, there is a higher level of thought that takes precedence over
our economic values and sexual values. That higher level of thought is our thinking
about ultimate ends. Ultimate ends may be either perceptible ends or imperceptible
ends. These ends are the ends that we give as an answer to the question of why we
should love, marry, and have children, and it is because of these ultimate ends that
we accept moral values for reasons other than that they help us to obtain wealth,
friends, sex, love, or the prosperity of our children. Many of the questions at this
level are those we tend to ask most when we are young and see the logical necessity
for some end beyond the perceptible ends we can obtain in life, or later in our lives
when either we fail to obtain the wealth or love we thought we desired, or we do
obtain them and find that they do not make us happy. It is at this level of thinking
that we have our religious beliefs and beliefs that some values are of greater
importance than the obtaining of sexual or economic goods.
As an example of an ultimate end that can take precedence over economic
goods or sexual goods, we can consider a priest who decides to sacrifice wealth and
marriage because he believes that he has a higher duty to God. The ultimate end he
envisages is an imperceptible end. Even though we may not wish to do the same
thing, the priest seems reasonable to us when we says that he has sacrificed wealth
and marriage because of his duty to God. But it clearly doesn’t make sense to us if he
says that he has a higher duty to God because he has decided to sacrifice wealth and
marriage. In our thinking, imperceptible ultimate ends are of a higher order than
sexual goods or economic goods.

As an example of an ultimate end that is a perceptible end, we can consider a

political crusader who is working to pass legislation that he thinks is important. For
instance, he might be trying to pass legislation guaranteeing the civil rights of a
minority group. If he believes that this goal is so important that he is willing to
sacrifice his own wealth or the welfare of his family to achieve it, then he has set this
perceptible end as an ultimate end. As another example of an ultimate end that is a
perceptible end, we can consider a person who has established some definite career
goal as the most important thing in his life; for instance, a person who is willing to
sacrifice everything to become a physician. This person has also set a perceptible
end as an ultimate end in his thinking. Even though we may disagree with either of
these persons about the importance of their goals, it at least seems reasonable to us
when they say that they are willing to sacrifice everything for them. But it would not
seem reasonable if they declared that these goals are important because they are
willing to sacrifice everything for these goals. Again, we think of ultimate ends, even
if they are perceptible ends, as of a higher order than other sexual goods or
economic goods.
Thus, we have now three classes of ends: economic goods, sexual goods, and
ultimate ends. I have tried to show that we think of ultimate ends as more important
than sexual goods, and sexual goods as more important than economic goods. By
this I mean that we see economic goods as means to sexual goods, economic goods
as means to ultimate ends, and sexual goods as means to ultimate ends, but we don’t
see ultimate ends as a means to sexual goods, ultimate ends as means to economic
goods, or sexual goods as means to economic goods. I think that this ordering will
appear reasonable to most people.
At the beginning of this chapter I introduced a proposition I considered to be
evident from common sense: we have different ends we want and need, some of
these ends are means to ends of greater importance, and as we grow we become
concerned with ends of increasing importance. Building on this proposition, I intro-
duced three broad classes of ends and showed how they are ordered in importance,
again appealing to common sense. I now want to develop some additional concepts
that are important to moral philosophy. These may be less obvious than what I have
presented so far, but later in this book I will defend these concepts, just as I will
defend all of the ideas in this chapter.
What I want to discuss is what we must do if we are to think clearly about ends
and means. We all have some concrete perceptible ends that we want or need, such
as food, listening to music, talking with friends, or making love, but we also have
many imperceptible ends that we desire, such as security, happiness, fulfillment, or
challenge. These imperceptible ends can be more or less vague, and the vaguer they
are the more difficulty we will have obtaining them. If we have a clear idea of what
happiness means, then we are more likely to be happy than if we have a cloudy idea

of what happiness means. Similarly, if we do not understand what fulfillment means

to us, we are less likely to be fulfilled than if we know exactly what fulfillment
means. Making decisions about concrete perceptible ends is often fairly easy, since it
is just a matter of determining the means to get these goods. But making decisions
about imperceptible ends is often quite difficult because it involves first under-
standing exactly what we mean by these ideas and then translating them into
concrete perceptible ends. In the process we must keep clear in our minds the
relative importance of different perceptible ends.
As an example of this process, let us suppose that a person has been working at
a job for a couple of years, but he no longer finds the job very satisfying and wishes
to find a solution to the problem. He may have some vague feelings that the job is too
“pressured,” or perhaps that it is not “fulfilling” or “challenging” enough. As long as
he thinks of the problem as one of finding such abstract things as “fulfillment,”
“challenge,” or “less pressure,” he will probably have a great deal of difficulty solving
the problem. But once he has been able to translate these concepts into clearly
defined perceptible ends, he can start to find effective solutions to the problems.
Perhaps he decides that the problem is that he is doing too much routine technical
work by himself and he really wants to interact more with other people. The
solution may be a reassignment to a job dealing with customer service, which may
be relatively easy to do. Perhaps the situation is more complex, and the real problem
is not the job itself, but rather that the person’s personal and social life is poor
because the job leaves him too little time to spend with his family and friends. This is
a more difficult type of problem, but if he recognizes the real nature of the problem,
and that his social and sexual needs are ultimately more important than his job
needs, he may be able to solve the problem effectively. But he must understand the
problem. Social and sexual problems are usually more complicated and emotional
than strictly job problems (again, a reflection of the natural ordering of our needs),
and it is often easier to imagine that problems in our lives are simply ones of earning
more money, or having a more challenging or prestigious job, rather than to
understand the true social and sexual nature of them. Perhaps the problem is not
either with his job or his personal life. In this case, the person may be faced with a
problem dealing with ultimate ends. These problems, which entail basic questions
about the meaning and purpose of life, and our relationship to God, can be the most
difficult problems of all. Even to solve spiritual problems, though, it is still necessary
to understand the nature of the problem before a solution can be found. They can be
confusing—after all, why should we be unhappy when we seem to have
everything?—and it is with such problems that clear thinking is most critical.
In explaining further what we need to do to think clearly, I want to draw the
reader’s attention to something that may be slightly confusing to him. The division
of perceptible ends, or goods, into the classes of economic goods or sexual goods

is exhaustive; that is, all goods are either economic goods or sexual goods. I asserted
that sexual goods are in general more important than economic goods. Of course, the
actual ordering of goods in our own lives is complex, so we may forego some sexual
goods at times for some economic goods. Earlier, I gave an example of this when I
had the woman in our story first attend to getting her apartment in order before she
worried about making a lot of friends, but the principle that there is an ordering of
goods, and that sexual goods are generally more important than economic goods, is
valid. I also asserted that there is a class of ends called ultimate ends that are
considered of greater importance than either economic goods or sexual goods, and
that ultimate ends can either be perceptible ends or imperceptible ends. For
example, a miser who considers money the most important goal in life has set the
perceptible end money as an ultimate end that is of greater importance than any
other ends in life. As another example, a person who considers his duty to God as the
most important goal in life has set an imperceptible end as an ultimate end.
However, the classes of economic goods and sexual goods include all the goods that
we can want or need, so a perceptible end that is considered as an ultimate end can
occur in two places in the ordering of ends. Let us label some particular perceptible
end that is considered an ultimate end as A. Then, since A must be either an
economic goods or a sexual goods, it can potentially serve as a means to a goods B.
But since A is also an ultimate end, it is also possible that B can serve as a means to
A. Thus, the end A can potentially be a means to itself. This is illogical. To avoid this
invalid reasoning and the problems that will result from it, we must establish the
following as a principle of moral philosophy: all our ultimate ends ought to be
imperceptible ends. Another way of stating this is to say that some people make the
mistake of setting perceptible ends as ultimate ends, which confuses their thinking
about moral values.
The principle that all ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible ends is of critical
importance to making good moral choices. It asserts that we should never consider
any tangible thing or intangible experience as the most important goal in life. This
can easily be seen in the case of the miser who sacrifices friends and family for
money, but it is also important in less obvious cases. For example, a man may set his
heart on becoming a physician. If he attains his goal he may be quite content, but if
he cannot get accepted to a medical school, or if he fails in his studies, then he will be
broken as a man if he is unable to find some concept of greater importance to
establishing a purpose in life than the goal of becoming a physician. Similarly, any
time we establish perceptible ends as ultimate ends we both leave ourselves open to
tragedy if we are unable to attain our goals, and also limit our potential to grow.
This principle is of such critical importance that I want to repeat it: all our
ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible ends. Of course, perceptible ends are
important because they form the actual substance of our lives, but the ultimate ends

that guide our choices of perceptible ends should not themselves be perceptible
ends. This is important because we can always fail to obtain some desired
perceptible end, lose a perceptible end we have obtained, or discover that a
perceptible end that we obtain doesn’t given us the satisfaction we expected. If we
have set a perceptible end as an ultimate end in our lives, then if we fail to obtain it,
lose it, or are disillusioned with it, we will have a difficult problem: unless we have
some imperceptible end that we consider to be more important, we will have
nothing to turn to. Life is full of failures, loss, and disillusionment. We may have
dreamed of having an exciting marriage with a wonderful lover only to find that our
marriage is a bit dull and our spouse fairly ordinary. We may have dreamed of
becoming the president of a large corporation only to find ourselves stuck in middle
management. Our spouse or children may be killed in an automobile accident. The
company for which we worked twenty years may go bankrupt and we may lose our
pension. Only if we have set imperceptible goals as our ultimate goals will we be
able to make a good life for ourselves in spite of that which we may fail to obtain,
that which we may lose, or that with which we may become disillusioned.
The error of establishing perceptible ends as ultimate ends underlies many of
the errors in our moral choices. One of these is the error of mistaking apparent
goods for real goods, a concept that was first introduced in the moral philosophy of
Aristotle. Apparent goods are goods we think we need, while real goods are goods
that we actually need. For example, suppose that a man has worked very hard for a
couple of years to secure an important promotion at his job. Once he has the new
position, however, he finds that rather than being content with the position and
enthusiastic about the work he has to do, he is depressed and anxious. What he
apparently needed was not what he actually needed. The new position was an
apparent goods and not a real goods. We have all probably experienced working
hard for some goal and then being disappointed once we achieve it. Solving such
problems requires thinking correctly about apparent goods and real goods.
Another aspect of mistaking apparent goods for real goods is to determine
what the real goods are; in other words, to determine what we actually need rather
than what we apparently need. The principles of moral philosophy include not only
the concepts of apparent goods and real goods, but also ideas that help us under-
stand what the real goods are. The ordering of ends I have given in this chapter is
one idea that helps us do this, while the concept of growth I discussed earlier is
another. The remainder of this book will develop ideas that will further our
understanding of what the real goods are.
Chapter III
The Split in Western Intellectual Thought

In the last chapter I developed some basic principles of moral philosophy by starting
with the assumption that we have different ends we want and need, some of these
ends are means to ends of greater importance, and as we grow we become
concerned with ends of increasing importance. These ideas are reasonable and
commonsense, and are reflected in much that has been written about human
development. For example, a similar ordering of the things we desire in life is
reflected in the ideas of the American psychologist Abraham H. Maslow, who argued
that each person has a hierarchy of needs that must be satisfied. Maslow’s views and
the successes of his work and that of the people he has influenced illustrate the
power of commonsense ideas, but also show the problems that develop when we
confuse the roles of science and philosophy.
In Maslow’s view, physiological needs, such as food and sleep, are the lowest in
the hierarchy, and after them come needs for safety, then needs for love and
companionship, then needs for esteem, and finally, at the top of the hierarchy, comes
what he calls the need for “self-actualization.” As each need is satisfied, a need
higher in the hierarchy becomes important to the individual and becomes the focus
of his attention. This process continues as a man develops, and eventually he may
reach the ultimate goal of self-actualization. However, he can do this only if the
lower-order needs are reasonably satisfied. Maslow spent a great deal of time
studying individuals he believed were self-actualized.
The theories of Maslow reflect much that we know from common sense to be
true about everyday life. Maslow believed strongly that psychologists should study
not only psychotic and neurotic people, but also normal, healthy people, and people
with exceptional accomplishments and creativity. Maslow was one of the leading
architects of the twentieth-century movement in psychology known as “humanistic
psychology,” which has emphasized man as a whole and is opposed to behaviorism
and psychotherapy, which have been the two mainstream movements in twentieth-
century psychology. The humanistic psychologists believe that behaviorism is too
20
The Split in Western Intellectual Thought 21
analytical and narrow in its focus, and that it neglects important features of man;
they believe that psychotherapy is too deterministic and emphasizes man’s depen-
dence on the past rather than his potential for the future. Humanistic psychology
includes the work of George Kelly, Carl Rogers, and Rollo May, and is the basis for the
“human potential” movement that has given us the Gestalt therapy of Fritz Perls and
the transactional analysis of Eric Berne.
While the emphasis of humanistic psychology on improving the mental health
of normal people, rather than dealing only with disturbed people, has given us some
useful ideas, the value of humanistic psychology is seriously undermined by some
fundamental misconceptions, misconceptions that illustrate problems with our
current intellectual thought. The most basic misconception is the idea that it is the
business of psychology, as a science, to study normal man as a whole. As I explained
in the first chapter of this book, it is the business of philosophy to develop an
understanding of man and his life as a whole, and it does this through rational
analysis and appeal to common experience. Science, on the other hand, appeals to
special experience, and because of this it is investigative, which philosophy is not.
The questions the humanistic psychologists address are those that should be
answered by philosophy, or by philosophy along with science, history, and mathe-
matics. By misconceiving their enterprise as a science, the humanistic psychologists
mistakenly think that they can give correct answers to these questions principally
through investigation. This confusion weakens their ability to solve the problems
they address.
To illustrate this, we can examine the ideas of Maslow. As I have shown earlier,
the idea that there are different ends we want and need, that some of these ends are
means to ends of greater importance, and that as we grow we become concerned
with ends of greater importance, can be established by an appeal to common
experience. The basic concept underlying Maslow’s theories is thus something we
should accept as reasonable. However, Maslow’s theories go much beyond this basic
concept, and in particular, his concept of self-actualization is something quite
outside of common experience. Self-actualization is an ambiguous concept, but it is
clearly something that few people attain. In Motivation and Personality (1970),
Maslow defines the need for self-actualization as “the desire to become more and
more what one idiosyncratically is, to become everything one is capable of becom-
ing.” Given this, then self-actualization is apparently the state of having become
everything one is capable of becoming, or of continuing to become everything one is
capable of becoming. This is vague, but we can better understand what Maslow
means by examining Maslow’s studies of the people he considers to be self-
actualized. These include historical figures, such as Spinoza, Abraham Lincoln, and
Thomas Jefferson, as well as people who were living at the same time as Maslow,
such as Eleanor Roosevelt, Albert Einstein, and personal friends and acquaintances

of Maslow. He studied these people, and found that they had a number of traits in
common: they were realistic, they accepted themselves and the world they lived in,
they identified with mankind, they were spontaneous, they were independent, they
did not confuse means with ends, and so on. Maslow has thus taken a principle that
can be established by appeal to common experience and supplemented it with
investigations of extraordinary people to come up with a general theory of what man
is and should be. The difficulty with this is that his ideas are not realistic for most
people. The people who Maslow considered to be self-actualized were, for the most
part, exceptionally intelligent, exceptionally creative, and lived through exceptional
circumstances. As valid as some of his ideas might be in understanding the
psychology of extraordinary people, to then establish self-actualization as the
ultimate goal of a man’s life simply does not make sense. Most people have no hope
of achieving this; self-actualization appears to lie within the realm of special
experience, not common experience.
Related to this misunderstanding of the difference between the questions that
philosophy and science address, and the difference between the methods they use to
answer them, is the misconception that science can be “holistic.” Holism is the
theory that there are entities in nature that can only be understood if they are taken
as a whole, and cannot be understood by reduction into component parts. When
applied to the study of man it asserts that man cannot be understood as the sum of
his parts but only as a whole. Now, philosophy is, in a limited sense, “holistic” in that
it synthesizes our knowledge to obtain an understanding of man as a whole, but
science is certainly not and can never be holistic. Science is investigative precisely
because it is able to reduce problems to component parts that can then be
investigated separately. Science advances by an ever-increasing reduction of the
problems it investigates, which sub-divides these problems into areas of investiga-
tion that become increasingly narrow. It is then the business of philosophy, or the
philosophy of science, to synthesize this knowledge into a whole.
Besides this confusing of the questions of philosophy with the questions of
science, and the related misconception that science can be holistic, a third problem
with the ideas of Maslow and other humanistic psychologists is the extent to which
they have been influenced by the continental philosophies of phenomenology and
existentialism. The reason that the humanistic psychologists have turned to these
philosophies, particularly existentialism, is that the other major twentieth-century
philosophies, the analytic and linguistic philosophies, do not address the questions
of meaning and purpose in life that are important to these psychologists. By default
they have had to turn to the phenomenologists and existentialists for the philo-
sophical foundations of their work. But here we have a fundamental contradiction.
Both phenomenology and existentialism are founded on assumptions that effectively
deny that man has a determinate human nature. But if we assume this is true, then
how can we possibly assert that there is a hierarchy of needs that is the same for all

men, and in particular that self-actualization is the ultimate goal a man should strive
for? How can we, in fact, assert that anything is generally true for man? The answer
is that we cannot, or at least we cannot and be logically consistent. Of course, the
humanistic psychologists have enough common sense to understand at some level
that there must be such a thing as a human nature, so the result is not that what they
say is completely wrong and contains nothing that is truthful or helpful, but just that
their ideas are unnecessarily abstruse and confusing. Moreover, because
existentialism places such a great emphasis on an individual man’s own struggle to
“come into being,” both this philosophy and the psychology based on it tend to be
intensely personal and introspective and often ignore important aspects of a man’s
environment. Indeed, existentialism asserts that a man’s environment doesn’t limit
his possibilities at all. In part because of the extreme introspection of this approach
to understanding human nature, as well as the lack of common sense in the
foundations of phenomenological and existentialist thought, we find that many of
the humanistic psychologists, particularly the “existentialist psychologists,” possess
a strange ambivalence between optimism that man can make what he wants of
himself, and pessimism that the whole endeavor is useless anyway. This is an
ambivalence that they inherit from the phenomenological and existentialist
philosophers, and is more a reflection of the problems with their approach to
understanding human nature than it is a realistic portrayal of the human situation.
A correct understanding of psychology as a science, including its proper rela-
tionship to philosophy, would help correct the mistakes of the psychologists and
allow psychology to make more substantive progress than it has in the past. It is
philosophy that must give a picture of man as a whole, a conception of what man is
and should be. With the ideas of a sound philosophy as a foundation for the theories
of psychology, and with philosophy’s conception of what man is and should be as a
reference, then psychology as a science should investigate specific component parts
that make up the whole. It can study learning, as does behaviorism; the behavior and
thoughts of men who experience some of the best things in life, as does some of
humanistic psychology; the behavior and thoughts of men who experience some of
the worst things in life, as does much of psychotherapy; and the physiology of our
nervous system, as does physiological psychology. Clinical practice should not be
thought of as a science, but rather as a technology, with problems specific to its role
as a technology. The model for a normal, healthy person should be that given by
philosophy, and the goal of psychology as a technology should be to develop tech-
niques to help people achieve that ideal.
The philosophical problems within different fields of the social sciences are
reflected in debates over social issues, as these debates usually rely heavily on the
work of social scientists. As an example, we can consider the current debate over

the proper social role for women. As will be discussed more later in this book, sexual
identity and the division in roles between men and women is intrinsic to defining
the structure of a society, and the matter of what these roles ought to be is of great
practical importance. Unfortunately, the debate in this area has usually been very
emotional, indicating profound differences in the basic values and assumptions
underlying the arguments of opposing sides. On one side of the debate are the
traditionalists, who argue that it is necessary for the health of society that most
women make the home and family the main focus of their life’s work. On the other
side are the feminists, who argue that most women ought to work outside the home
in serious careers, just as men have customarily done. In order to make progress in
resolving this controversy the values and assumptions underlying the arguments of
each side must be determined.
As an example of feminist thought, we can consider the ideas that Betty Friedan
discusses in The Feminine Mystique (1963). The central idea of this book is that a
large number of American women shared a problem of emptiness in their lives, a
problem that Friedan calls “the problem that has no name.” The problem was a
feeling of being incomplete and without a purpose in life. Some women were listless
and tired all the time, while other women would become obsessed with sex or
compulsive about doing housework. The problem was severe enough that some
women would break out with bleeding blisters on their hands and arms, and other
women would be driven to suicide. Friedan believed that the root of the problem
was that the lives that these women led as housewives were not challenging enough
and did not allow them to develop and grow as people—in short, that their lives
were so boring that it was driving them crazy and making them sick. Friedan
believed that American women had this problem because they had been taught that
they should stay at home and raise kids and abandon their career ambitions. The
popular culture encouraged this traditional role for women, a role that in reality was
nothing more than a frivolous search for more consumer comforts. As the solution to
this problem, Friedan advises women to actively pursue careers—not simply take
jobs, but have careers, careers that would give them the opportunity to grow and to
make a significant contribution to society.
To understand how Friedan develops her argument, we must understand the
ideas around which her book is structured. Her central ideas are: the problem for
women is not a sexual problem, but a stunting or evasion of emotional and
intellectual growth; the reason women do not grow emotionally and intellectually is
because, in this society, the traditional role for women does not give them the
opportunity to grow; and the role of a career woman, in which a woman makes a
serious commitment to an important career that carries with it prestige and money,
is one that allows women to grow emotionally and intellectually.
The Feminine Mystique is built around these ideas. Friedan first presents

evidence from her interviews with women and from studies in newspapers and
magazines that “the problem that has no name” is a common and serious one for
housewives, and contrasts this situation with that of career women who do not have
this problem. The career-woman role she is advocating is one in which women seek
opportunities similar to what have been available to men rather than limiting
themselves to work in the home. Throughout the book she passes back and forth
between the two roles—traditional and career-woman—and points out the prob-
lems with the traditional role and the good points of the career-woman role. As the
book continues, she criticizes the contributions of Sigmund Freud and Margaret
Mead to what she considers myths about women, she examines the failure of women
to work seriously in high school and college, and she discusses the promotion of the
traditional role for women in America after the Second World War. She also presents
the result of her investigation of the tactics that companies have used in promoting
consumer products to women: companies have used advertising to appeal to the
need of American housewives for adventure and a sense of achievement, and have
thus exploited the emptiness that many women feel. She continues by portraying a
gloomier and gloomier picture of the traditional role for women, and she
particularly denounces the drudgery and tedium of housework. Eventually she
compares what has happened to the American housewife to the dehumanization of
people in Nazi concentration camps. After that, she presents a positive view of what
people can attain in life by introducing the ideas of different social scientists,
particularly Maslow’s concepts of a hierarchy of needs and self-actualization. From
there she presents a new life plan for women that argues for the feminist model: the
career-woman role.
We can contrast the analysis given in Friedan’s book with the analysis given by
George Gilder in Sexual Suicide (1973) and its revision Men and Marriage (1986),
which criticizes the values and policies of the feminists. Gilder bases his books on a
set of beliefs about how men and women interact with each other, many of which
come from the ideas that Margaret Mead develops in such books as Male and Female
(1949). Gilder uses these beliefs to describe many of our current social problems
and to analyze the effect of feminist values and policies on our society. A main idea of
his is that the competition of women with men for job advancement will undermine
the sexual confidence of the men who lose in this competition and will force them to
find other jobs or abandon their careers. Ultimately it undermines the family
structure by undermining the incentive for men to work and support a family, a
problem that will especially affect the middle and lower classes. Thus, the career
advancement of middle-class and upper-middle-class women comes at the expense
of the less affluent members of our society, and in general increases sexual
maladjustment. The young women who aggressively pursue careers will themselves
also tend to be victims because as they advance in their careers the number of

suitable mates for them will tend to decrease and they will be inclined to pursue
older, more powerful men rather than men closer in age and status. In many cases
this will mean that the women will never find a husband.
The work of both these authors contain valuable insights, but like authors of
most works on personal and social problems, Friedan and Gilder do not argue for
their conclusions by presenting philosophical analyses, but rather base their argu-
ments on a core set of beliefs and then try to support these beliefs by presenting
evidence that illustrate these beliefs and extrapolate from them. Friedan does not
argue for the basic beliefs of the feminist ideology, but rather uses that ideology as a
framework for both discussing some of the problems that American women face and
also determining possible solutions. Similarly, Gilder does not argue for his basic
beliefs, but rather uses them to make conclusions about the effects of feminism.
These authors do not really argue with each other, but rather talk through each
other. Their analyses do not mesh. Without a shared set of beliefs on which they can
agree, the views of the authors cannot be reconciled. While each author presents the
views of different social scientists—Gilder embraces Margaret Mead, while Friedan
condemns Mead and embraces Abraham Maslow—such appeals still do not resolve
the debate because the social sciences themselves have no shared set of beliefs. To
establish a shared set of beliefs that can help resolve such debates, it must be
recognized that the problems these authors are addressing are philosophical and
not scientific. Or, more correctly, they are mixed questions that require philosophy as
well as science, history, and mathematics. The arguments cannot be resolved by an
appeal to special experience, but only by an appeal to common experience, because
it is from common experience—the experience we all share—that a shared set of
beliefs is established.
To understand more clearly how the philosophical views inherent in the work
of social scientists can influence the views of a writer using this work, we can
examine the role of Maslow’s concepts of a hierarchy of needs and self-actualization
in The Feminine Mystique. For the first four-fifths of her book Friedan writes chiefly
of the problems that women face, although she strongly implies that the alternative
to the traditional role is the career-woman role. Finally, she presents Maslow’s
theories of growth and self-actualization in detail, including a discussion of studies
that suggest that high-dominance, more “masculine” women are healthier psycho-
logically than low-dominance, more “feminine” women. These theories play a crucial
role in Friedan’s arguments. Since The Feminine Mystique primarily addresses
questions of what a woman ought to seek in life and what she ought or ought not to
do, it is necessary that Friedan have some definite philosophy that presents a model
of what a woman can and should become. Maslow’s theories provide that model.
The moral philosophy implicit in his views provides an underlying moral philosophy
for Friedan’s book. She undoubtedly chose these ideas because of their reasonable

agreement with common sense and because they emphasize the concept of growth
that is so critical to her argument. But by using these ideas as the foundation for her
advocation of the career-woman role as an ideal for women, she is prone to the
problems that pervade the work of the humanistic psychologists.
To begin with, there is the misconception that these questions should be
answered by a science and not by philosophy, so Friedan is prone to all the
ambiguities that a “holistic” science produces. In particular, Maslow’s belief that self-
actualization is the ultimate end for a person’s life, which he derived from the
investigation of extraordinary people, tends to promote an unrealistic view of what
most people can attain. Friedan even goes so far as to suggest that the fact that
Maslow found so few women who were self-actualized is another example of how
our society suppresses the growth of women. This setting of an unrealistic goal as
the ultimate end for a person’s life leads to an overzealous idealization of the life of
the career woman. Moreover, Maslow’s existentialist emphasis on the individual, and
the assumption implicit in existentialism that people can make of themselves
whatever they want, leads Friedan to neglect how a woman’s choice of goals will
affect the actions of others in her society, and how their actions will then affect the
woman. The intensely personal and introspective bias of the humanistic psycholo-
gists is reflected in Friedan’s views, and at best the ideas of these psychologists
simply do not give her the insights necessary to understand the social effects of what
she is advocating.
Just as we can criticize Friedan’s work, we can also criticize Gilder’s work, but
for almost the opposite reasons: while Gilder is good at analyzing the social
problems that a wide-spread acceptance of feminist values and goals would create,
he fails to appreciate the importance for women to grow and the limitations of the
traditional role in allowing that growth. Gilder lacks the humanistic perspective that
Friedan obtains in part from her appeal to the ideas of the humanistic psychologists,
even though he may be correct in much of what he says. The authors are really
trying to do different things: Gilder is trying to explain the reasons for the status
quo, and the problems entailed with changing it, while Friedan is trying to solve
problems that the status quo appears to have created. Both authors bring valuable
insights to the problem, but their intellectual roots make it difficult for them to
incorporate the wisdom of each other.
The problems that plague humanistic psychology and other fields in the social
sciences are examples of the central problem in our intellectual thought: an inability
to correctly synthesize scientific ideas and humanistic ideas, a split between the
scientific and humanistic cultures. In Chapter I, I made the statement that there is
one reality, and that we can view it either in terms of cause or in terms of purpose,
but that each is just a different way of viewing the same reality. The split in our

intellectual thought can be stated this way: the humanists—people who are most
concerned with man’s individual need to find a purpose and meaning in life—view
the world more in terms of purpose, while the scientists—people who are most
concerned with understanding how the world works—view the world in more in
terms of cause, and the two approaches are not compatible. The reality viewed by
each does not appear to be the same reality.
This split is not just a split in our intellectual thought, but it is a split within the
intellectual community. In The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution (1959),
C. P. Snow presents his thesis that the intellectual life of Western society is
increasingly being split into two polar groups: literary intellectuals at one pole, and
scientists, particularly physical scientists, at the other. Between the two there is
most of all a lack of understanding of each other, an inability to find a shared set of
values upon which any understanding can be founded. The two groups simply don’t
communicate. The result is that the humanists, who should be the most sensitive to
the problems in society and the most capable of inspiring people to take action to
solve these problems, are effectively isolated from the scientists, who should be the
most capable of rationally analyzing these problems and finding solutions to them.
The split in our intellectual thought and within the intellectual community is
most evident in modern philosophy. The two dominant traditions in modern philos-
ophy have been the tradition of analytic and linguistic philosophy, which has fused
with the schools of positivism and logical empiricism, and the tradition of conti-
nental philosophy, which includes the schools of phenomenology and existentialism.
These two traditions are totally incompatible, and cannot be reconciled with each
other.
Analytic and linguistic philosophy views reality principally in terms of cause,
and in its most extreme form asserts both that the only meaningful knowledge is
that given by the sentences of logic and mathematics and the postulates of science
and history that have appeal to empirical evidence, and also that metaphysical
concepts, as well as religious, aesthetic, or moral values, have no meaning. Thus, the
analytic and linguistic philosophers deny that any value judgements can be
considered knowledge. For example, they would assert that the belief most
Americans hold that all people have the right to freedom and equal treatment under
the law can have no objective basis, but rather that it is merely the opinion of
Americans. Those who maintain this position also believe in determinism, the
assertion that everything that occurs in the world can in principle be predicted by an
omniscient intelligence and that man has no freedom of choice in his own actions.
Those who accept the extreme view of analytic and linguistic philosophy see the
universe as without a purpose and our existence as the result of a blind process of
evolution.
The continental philosophies view the world principally in terms of purpose,
and in their most extreme form completely deny any restraints on the choices of

men. The continental philosophers recognize that some choices will lead to
alienation, despair, and other problems, but they deny that there is an objective basis
on which to make choices: there are an infinite number of choices, and all of them
are equally valid. They believe that religious, aesthetic, and moral values are
meaningful, but they also believe that these values are purely a subjective result of
an individual’s own struggle to come into being. They in effect hold that nothing in
existence is determined. Those who accept this extreme view see the universe as
having a purpose but deny that there is any objective basis for man to determine
what that purpose is.
The problem with these extreme views is that nobody really believes them. The
analytic philosopher Bertrand Russell may have contended that all knowledge is
limited to science, and that science has nothing to say about values, but that didn’t
prevent him from writing a book on The Conquest of Happiness (1930), which
advises people on what they ought to do to live a good life. Indeed, Russell made a
career of advising people on what they ought to do. Likewise, I doubt if many
existentialists would be willing to stick their arms down the throat of a tiger just to
illustrate their point that we have no objective basis on which to make decisions
about what we ought to do. In other words, these views are so divergent from
common sense that no one could possibly use them in their daily lives.
Despite the discrepancy between such views and common sense, many
philosophers have held them to be true. But other philosophers have recognized this
discrepancy and have tried to reconcile these philosophies and others with common
sense. Although the behavioral psychologists have tended to side with the extreme
views of analytic philosophy, most social scientists have recognized that these
philosophical views conflict with what most of us understand to be true from daily
life and have attempted a reconciliation, as Maslow did in developing theories that
were a blend of common sense, existentialism, and investigatory observations. Most
practical people who use the ideas of philosophers and social scientists in their own
work or personal lives also pick and choose those ideas that conform to their own
notions of how the world works and what we ought to be doing. Clinical therapists,
for example, rarely ascribe exclusively to one school of thought, but rather use a
mixture of ideas that they obtain from a variety of sources. Virtually nobody actually
accepts and uses in their daily lives the extreme conclusions that philosophers have
felt compelled to make.
While philosophers, social scientists, and practical people may all achieve their
own reconciliation of philosophical and scientific ideas with common sense, our
inability to do substantive philosophical work as a public enterprise, with debate
and agreement on theories and conclusions that should require verification by
common experience, results in a great diversity of opinions and an inability to reach
a consensus on the problems we face. Ultimately, a failure to share a common set of

values can be fatal to a culture, and much of the disarray in modern social life is a
result of the great diversity of beliefs and values in our culture. They all have their
origin in the discrepancy between the philosophical concepts we have to work with
and our own common sense, and the related conflict between our humanistic ideas
and our scientific ideas. All serious investigators of social problems must necessarily
find some set of philosophical beliefs on which to base their analyses. Eventually
they will be led to the work of philosophers or social scientists who have based their
work on that of other intellectuals, who will in turn have based their work on that of
still other intellectuals, and so on. If an investigator pursues his analysis in greater
and greater depth, he will eventually be led back to this basic conflict in Western
thought. Depending on a person’s own inclinations, background, and acquired
beliefs, he will almost inevitably slide into an overemphasis either on thinking about
the world in terms of purpose or on thinking about the world in terms of cause, just
as the continental philosophers and the analytic and linguistic philosophers have
done. Either view is necessarily incomplete, and the adoption of one view or the
other makes it difficult to understand those with an opposing view. From this arises
our inability to form a consensus, and with it the divergence of beliefs and values
which tends to fragment our culture.
What is the ultimate source of this discrepancy between the philosophical
concepts with which we have to work and our common sense, and with it the
resultant conflict between the scientific view of the world and the humanistic view
of the world? On this point there is virtually complete agreement among philoso-
phers who have examined the problem in depth. It comes from a belief that the mind
and body are separate, that there is such a thing as a subjective reality and an
objective reality, and that these two realities are separate from each other. This
results in what can be called a dualistic metaphysics, and the discrepancies in our
intellectual thought can be understood as a duality in our thought, a tendency to
think in terms of opposites rather than in an integrated fashion. Those philosophers
who think principally in terms of cause emphasize objective reality, while those who
those who think principally in terms of purpose emphasize subjective reality.
Philosophers who have recognized this problem have tried to find some way to bring
our subjective and objective worlds back together and to eliminate this split.
Although this split may be seen as one between the sciences and the
humanities, it is actually much deeper than that. It is a split within the sciences and
humanities themselves. For example, the central problem in modern biology is the
inconsistency of the apparent assertion of science that the world should be under-
stood in terms of cause and the practical necessity to formulate some biological
problems in terms of purpose. This is explained by the biochemist Jacques Monod in
Chance and Necessity (1971). Monod understands that this contradiction in biology
is also at the heart of our inability to focus on our personal and social problems, and
he tries to present ideas that will help resolve this dilemma. Likewise, the literary

intellectuals recognize this as a problem, for it is at the heart of the anxiety that
occurs in the art of our times. Although artists before the twentieth century suffered
from frustration and despair just as modern artists do, they at least had a vision of
what life could be. That vision has been lost in the modern world. Many literary
intellectuals and other humanists recognize the need to solve this dilemma, and the
solutions they offer for personal and social problems are often basically attempts to
do this.
In fact, all of modern intellectual thought can be understood as a never-ending
struggle to resolve the conflict between the scientific view of the world and the
humanistic view. The split between mind and body was first introduced into
Western thought by René Descartes in the seventeenth century in an effort to
resolve the conflict between the new ideas that emerged with the discoveries of
Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton, and the old religious and moral values of the
Middle Ages that were so important to most men. Before Descartes, the philosopher
Thomas Hobbes had taken the ideas of the scientific revolution to such an extreme
that the old values seemed untenable to many men, and Descartes hoped to refute
Hobbes and to save a place for values in the world of fact that was being described
by science. Descartes introduced the idea that the mind and body are separate and
governed by laws of their own: spiritual laws for the mind and physical laws for the
body. In this way, Descartes hoped to show that one could accept the new ideas of
science but still retain the old ideas of religion and morality. As philosophers were
able to show later in the seventeenth century and early in the eighteenth century,
Descartes failed in his synthesis of humanistic and scientific ideas. Other
philosophers tried in their own way to resolve the dilemma, but most of them took
as a starting point the separation between mind and body. However, that separation
was itself the source of the problem, as was finally recognized by Immanuel Kant
late in the eighteenth century. Kant devised a complex and intricate philosophical
apparatus in an attempt to eliminate this separation of mind and body.
However, despite Kant’s correct understanding of the source of the problem, his
solution to it ultimately fails, and philosophers since Kant have recognized that his
conclusions are erroneous. Philosophers after Kant who disliked his conclusions
have nevertheless recognized that they needed to avoid a separation between mind
and body, so rather than completely rejecting Kant, they started with many of the
premises of Kant and tried to modify his analysis to obtain conclusions that were
closer to what they believed to be the truth. Both the tradition of analytic and
linguistic philosophy and the tradition of continental philosophy have their roots in
Kant’s thought, and in many ways have a great deal of similarity. Nevertheless, their
theories and conclusions are ultimately highly divergent and their ideas do nothing
to reconcile the split between the sciences and the humanities, but rather serve to

divide them all the more. Each tradition is led to an extreme.

A recent attempt by a philosopher to solve the problem of the duality in our
thought is given by W. T. Jones in The Sciences and the Humanities (1965). Jones
clearly understands the problem in modern philosophy, which is mainly one of
finding a place for values in the world of fact that has been described by science. He
points out that our failure to reconcile the scientific view of the world with the
humanistic view has led to a kind of neurotic paralysis when we attempt to solve
difficult problems, whether they are personal problems such as a troubled marriage,
or policy problems such as nuclear disarmament or the spread of communism. Our
thought is so ambiguous that we either adopt irrational solutions, or we simply
retreat from the problems. Jones correctly understands that at the heart of this
problem is our dualistic metaphysics, which asserts that reality consists of the
separate worlds of physical things and of mind. He shows that if this dualistic
metaphysics is accepted, then the conflict between the humanistic and scientific
views of the world is really insoluble.
Jones also points out that Immanuel Kant recognized that this dualistic
metaphysics was at the root of philosophy’s problems, but that Kant’s solution
ultimately does not work. Jones himself presents an analysis that he believes does
eliminate this dualistic metaphysics. But Jones, like the philosophers of both the
analytic and linguistic tradition and the continental tradition, fails to do so. And he
fails for the same reason that other philosophers have failed: he tries to solve the
problem by erecting a complex structure that supposedly corrects the errors of
another complex structure that has failed to work. As most other modern philoso-
phers have done, Jones bases his work on the philosophy of Kant, offering
corrections to what he believes to be errors in Kant’s thought. However, this doesn’t
work. Kant’s thought is already so intricate and complicated that it is almost
guaranteed to produce obscurities and contradictions. The essence of good ideas is
simplicity, and if simpler approaches offer reasonable solutions, then much of Kant’s
work must be rejected, not simply corrected.
The correct way to solve the separation of mind and body is to go back to the
philosophers who originally made this mistake and to correct the errors that led
them to this separation. When this is done, then the solution to the problem of the
separation of mind and body turns out to be quite simple. The answer was given in
ancient times by Aristotle and later by Thomas Aquinas. Perhaps a better way of
stating this is to say that the error of separating mind and body should never had
been made in the first place and would not have been if the thought of Aristotle and
Aquinas had been better understood. The duality in Western intellectual thought did
not occur in ancient and medieval times, but rather was introduced in modern times
along with the rise of modern science. The error that leads to this separation of
mind and body, and prevents us from understanding how they are related and how

the humanities and sciences are related, is discussed briefly by Mortimer J. Adler in
The Conditions of Philosophy (1965), and more thoroughly in Ten Philosophical
Mistakes (1985). The primary error is one in our epistemology—an incorrect
assumption regarding the objects of our thought—although there are other related
errors that contribute to the false separation between mind and body. In order to
understand this error, and how to correct it, we must understand how we think
when we use common sense; to understand how scientific thought is related to
common sense and humanistic thought, we must understand how scientific thought
is similar to our commonsense thought.
Chapter IV
Commonsense Thought, Scientific Thought, and

the Objects of Our Thought
In this chapter I will discuss the commonsense thinking of the ordinary man, and the
specialized thinking of the scientist. Although the thinking of the ordinary man and
the scientist are different in some ways, I chiefly want to show how they are similar,
and to do this in a way that will appeal to the reader’s own common sense. Since I
am discussing how we think, I am laying the foundation for an epistemology, or
theory of knowledge. At the end of this chapter I will discuss an error in modern
epistemology that has led us to misunderstand how we think. When that error is
corrected, our philosophical thought becomes consistent with our commonsense
thought and our scientific thought.
Although I have discussed the notion of common sense before, I will review
what I mean by “common sense,” as well as explain what I mean by “ordinary man.”
By “common sense” I mean the kind of thinking we employ in our daily lives in
dealing with the most immediate and obvious requirements of life—eating, sleeping,
talking with other people, driving a car, going to work. By “ordinary man” I mean a
person who spends most of his time dealing with practical affairs—a businessman,
an accountant, an engineer, a carpenter, a secretary. Of course, even the most
practical of people will spend some of their lives with more abstract problems such
as love, death, and the meaning of life, and even the most extraordinary intellectual
will have to spend some of his time deciding what to wear in the morning or where
to find a pleasant lunch. A more precise definition of “common sense” would be the
thinking we employ when dealing with matters that have immediate consequences,
while “ordinary man” would be any person when he is dealing with such matters. A
philosopher may declare that all reality is an illusion, but he is likely to think twice
before stepping off a cliff; likewise, a scientist may claim that food should be
unnecessary to sustain life, but after he has skipped a few meals he will probably get
hungry and modify his theory. When we are dealing with matters of common sense
we are not able to be wrong for very long—we learn quickly whether what we
believe works or doesn’t work. Ultimately, any valid epistemology would of course
34
Commonsense Thought, Scientific Thought, and the Objects of Our Thought 35
have to account adequately for the thinking of people in extraordinary

circumstances—times of crisis, scientific theorizing, artistic creation—but it is when
dealing with the commonsense understanding of the ordinary man that many of the
issues become most clear.
To make our thinking more concrete, let us consider the case of one particular
fairly ordinary man; let’s examine, say, a man who decides to open a bakery. I think
the reader will consider the following analysis reasonable. The man may have a
number of things he desires in life—perhaps he has a wife and family and wants to
provide a good living for them; he may enjoy sailing a great deal and want to have
the time and money to enjoy his hobby; he may have found that he enjoys working
with other people all day and thrives on busy, hectic work; perhaps he has a friend in
the bakery business whom he admires and wishes to be like. Whatever his desires
and goals in life, for some reason he has decided that opening a bakery will help him
achieve them. Before opening the bakery, he first has to do a great deal of practical
work—he needs to determine what kind of bakery he should open, find a good
location for the bakery, negotiate the purchase or building of the bakery and the
financing of it, buy furniture and arrange for decorating, advertise for staff,
interview applicants, and choose whom to hire. All of these are things that must be
done if he is to achieve his larger goal of opening and running a bakery successfully,
and each task in turn requires him to decide the best way to do it—he must decide
with whom to discuss the different types of bakeries and what books to read about
the matter, with whom he should discuss locations and what sites he should
investigate, with whom to arrange financing and the best way to negotiate the deal,
where to buy the furniture and who should do the decorating, where he should
advertise for workers and how to go about hiring them, and so on. Of course, if he
spends all of his time figuring out what to do nothing will ever get done, so he will at
some point have to take action; but at the same time, if he is too hasty he may make
mistakes that will cause him to have problems either immediately or later on. The
opening of the bakery requires a combination of thinking about what he needs to do
and how to do it, and then actually going out and doing the necessary work.
Let us suppose that he has managed to do all of these things and he finally
opens his bakery for business. He will now be confronted with other problems—
keeping the staff doing their jobs properly, hiring new staff to replace those who
leave, advertising to attract new customers, arranging for delivery of foodstuffs and
other supplies, keeping accurate records of receipts and expenditures, keeping an
adequate amount of cash on hand to pay for expenses, arranging to pay the salaries
of employees, keeping the employees happy, keeping the customers happy. He has
probably learned that running a bakery is a lot more complicated than he had ever
imagined, but he keeps with it because he still believes that it will help him achieve
his larger goals, or perhaps he is too busy to give the matter much thought. In any

case, the business continues and his life goes on.

Now, let us imagine what may happen to our friend. Perhaps he has done a
good job setting up and running the bakery, and also that he has had a reasonable
amount of good luck. The bakery does well and he starts making a great deal of
money. He is likely quite pleased with himself, and he may start considering new
plans for the future based on the success he has achieved. He may hire a professional
manager for the bakery and then start another bakery, which may in turn lead to still
another bakery. As his success builds he will find it necessary to establish new goals
and use what he has learned to achieve them. His business advances, and he is
successful and content for a time.
But perhaps he doesn’t achieve this great success; perhaps instead the bakery
does fairly well, but he never makes enough money to hire a professional manager
and go on to build another bakery. Rather, it provides a reasonably good living, but
also takes a great deal of time. If this is what the man had originally wanted he may
be quite content with this, but if he had dreamed of greater success he will either
have to resign himself to the situation and make the best of it, or he will have to
consider other ways to achieve what he wants. And of course things might go much
worse. The problem may not be just that the bakery doesn’t supply a good living, it
may be that it doesn’t supply much of a living at all—the bakery may be dangerously
close to bankruptcy. If this is the case the man has a serious problem, and will either
have to figure out a way to make the bakery profitable, or else be faced with losing
the business. This situation may produce a severe crisis for the man—he will either
have to find an imaginative solution to his dilemma, or else he may have to give up
his dream of running a successful bakery. If he can successfully resolve this crisis he
may go on to have a productive and happy business life; if he fails to resolve the
crisis successfully he may end up bitter and disillusioned with the bakery business.
If we review the scenario for this man, we see that there is a constant interplay
between his decisions about goals to reach and the means to achieve them. His
decision that hiring staff is a necessary means to opening the bakery implies that he
has established hiring staff as an end in itself, which in turn requires him to deter-
mine the means to do this—say, putting an ad in the paper—which in turn becomes
an end that also requires determining means—say, composing the ad and phoning it
in to the newspaper. This process continues until something is actually done—the ad
is composed and phoned in to the newspaper—and the man can go about thinking
about some other problem. We can consider the decisions the man makes about
goals to achieve as his understanding of reality in terms of purpose (his determining
what he ought to seek and what he ought or ought not to do), while his decisions
about the means to achieve them his understanding of reality in terms of cause (his
determining how the world works and what the effects of particular actions will be).
The decision that composing an ad and phoning it in to the newspaper will result in

the ad appearing in the newspaper is a product of the man’s understanding of the

physical world and human nature. He may not think about the details, but he knows
that if he phones the newspaper with an ad the person answering the phone will
copy down the ad and send it on to the editor of the classifieds, who in turn will
place it in the appropriate part of the classified ads and give it to the typesetter, who
in turn will have it translated into type, and so on, until eventually the ad will show
up in the newspaper the next day because somebody in the past figured out how to
print words on paper, modern engineers have designed advanced printing presses
based on these principles, and businessmen have been able to build organizations to
carry out the production and distribution of newspapers.
I have given this detailed analysis to make clear an important point: in the
commonsense thinking of the ordinary man the process of determining ends is not
divorced from the process of determining means, but rather the two processes occur
together simultaneously. When the man decides that he wants to open a bakery he is
necessarily using his understanding of how the world works, his judgement that
doing so will help him achieve other goals that he understands as important to him,
even if he doesn’t think about all of this explicitly. Likewise, when he determines
from his understanding of how the world works that hiring workers is a necessary
means to opening the bakery, he is necessarily establishing at the same time that
hiring workers is something he wants to do, it is a goal in his life. The two processes
are inextricably linked together, and the man’s thinking continues until something is
actually done and reality has changed—once the workers are hired that is no longer
a goal and the man thinks about other tasks, once the bakery is opened that is no
longer a goal and the goal now becomes to run the bakery successfully, once the
bakery is running successfully perhaps a new goal of opening another bakery is
established, or if the bakery fails, perhaps the man decides to open a laundry
instead. The more immediate the feedback on a decision the more obvious is the
simultaneity of our thinking about means and ends—we may hardly have thought
about being thirsty before our hand is reaching for a glass of water and we start
drinking.
Now, let us consider the more specialized thinking of a man who is not so
ordinary: a research scientist. Most people will accept my explanation of the
thinking of the bakery owner as reasonable because the types of activities he does
are similar to what they do in their everyday lives, even if they haven’t realized quite
how complicated running a bakery can be. But the thinking of a scientist is less
obvious to them. It can even be less obvious to the scientist himself. Rather than use
a hypothetical example, then, I will use a real example and describe my own work in
graduate school. I will eliminate most of the technical details, and instead will give
an outline of how the work progressed.

First, it should be realized that I had at the time a number of things I desired in
life, and I for some reason had decided that obtaining a doctorate in physical chem-
istry would help me achieve them—perhaps I figured that after I got the degree I
could get a good-paying job, perhaps I had dreams of becoming a famous scientist,
or perhaps I simply enjoyed the life of a student. Regardless of the reasons I had for
deciding to get my doctorate, that is what I had decided to do, and now I had to
figure out how to do it. Part of the requirement for the degree was to do original
research that would lead to a thesis, and to satisfy this requirement my thesis
advisor and I had chosen a particular experiment to do.
The reason for doing the experiment can be described as follows. My advisor
and I were interested in studying the interaction of a particular protein with deoxy-
ribonucleic acid (DNA). Proteins are large biological macromolecules that are chains
of amino acids polymerized together, while DNA is a very much larger biological
macromolecule that is two associated chains, each consisting of nucleotides
polymerized together. Most of the components of living organisms are proteins of
one sort or another, while nucleic acids are the materials that store the genetic
information of an organism. The study of the interaction of the protein with DNA is
termed in physical chemistry the study of the chemical kinetics of the protein-DNA
system. Since the protein molecule that I studied is small relative to the DNA
molecule, it can also be referred to as a ligand, a ligand being any molecule or
molecular entity that is small relative to another molecule with which it associates
or interacts. In the experiment we were interested in distinguishing between two
hypotheses about the chemical kinetics of this particular system, which I will call
models 1 and 2. It was important in understanding this system to distinguish
between these two models, but most of the techniques used to study this system
were unable to do this. However, we had a relatively new experimental apparatus in
our laboratory that we believed could be used to distinguish between them, and we
wanted to do this crucial experiment.
The experiment we wanted to do can be described simply. We would make up a
series of solutions of the DNA and protein with the concentration of the DNA, which
I shall call c, increasing from one solution to the next. The ratio of protein
concentration to DNA concentration would remain the same for all solutions. We
would then use our technique to measure a property called a diffusion coefficient,
which I shall call D, for each solution. If model 1 were the correct model, then D
should increase as c increases for the series of solutions, while if model 2 were the
correct model, then D should increase as c increases for the first few solutions in the
series, and then start decreasing with increasing c for the last few solutions. This is
the classic way in which a scientific experiment is conceived: an experiment is
designed to test a hypothesis, or to distinguish between two or more hypotheses.
Since the technique we wanted to use was relatively new and quite compli-

cated, we decided that rather than doing this experiment immediately, we would
first do another experiment. This experiment also was the study of the chemical
kinetics of a DNA-ligand system, but the ligand in this case was not a protein, but a
small organic molecule called ethidium. One advantage of using this system was that
other researchers in our laboratory had already successfully studied the DNA-
ethidium system using our technique, although no one had ever done this particular
experiment before. Another advantage was that we knew from experiments of a
different sort done by other scientists that ethidium interacted with DNA as
described by model 2. Thus, we thought that this experiment would be easy to
perform, and would also verify that our technique did what we thought it should.
However, as often happens with complicated scientific work, we found that this
experiment was not as easy as we first thought it would be. Many technical details
needed to be worked out—I needed to learn how to work the apparatus, I had to
adjust and modify the equipment, I had to prepare the DNA and ethidium and verify
their properties, I had to schedule time on the equipment and work out conflicts
with others who also wanted to use the equipment, I had to learn the theory of the
technique I was using and the system I was studying, and so on. After about a year,
however, all this work was completed and the experiment was performed. The
result? The measured quantity D neither increased nor decreased with increasing c,
but rather stayed constant.
This was a completely unexpected result, and one that did not make sense
given what we knew of this chemical system and the experimental technique.
Results such as this can be difficult for a graduate student, and if after a while an
explanation for unexpected results is not found a crisis can develop. Initially, I
assumed that I had made a technical mistake, but as I checked the possibilities and
could find no reasonable explanation, I began to suspect that there was some basic
error in the way the experiment was conceived. Finally, I started trying to
understand what the problem may be, which required that I explore the theory of
the technique in greater detail; apparently, some assumption had been made at
some point that was incorrect, which in turn led to the false conclusion that there
should be a change in D as c increases. The experiment could only be conducted
properly by finding that assumption and correcting it, which in this case was not an
easy thing to do. The technique required measurements in what is called in chemical
kinetics an “open system,” which greatly complicates the theory. Furthermore, the
theory was based on an analysis of statistical fluctuations (random changes in the
output from the apparatus), and involves a complex theory that is difficult to grasp
intuitively. I spent several weeks just thinking about the problem and discussing it
with my advisor and other members of the laboratory trying to work backwards
through the theory in an effort to obtain some insight into the source of the error.
Eventually an idea came. I was discussing the problem with another person, and he

made a suggestion regarding the concentration of DNA and ethidium and its effect
on statistical fluctuations. I am not sure now exactly what he said, but somehow it
made me think that perhaps the problem was that the ratio of ethidium concen-
tration to DNA concentration was too high, that rather than being about a hundred
to one as it was, it should be about one to one. I was not able to work out a com-
pletely logical rationale for why this should be so, but intuitively it seemed plausible
that this was the source of the problem.
The experiment with the lower ratio of ethidium to DNA was a much more
difficult experiment technically, so it was with faith in this intuition that I decided to
do the revised experiment. It took several months to work out the practical details,
but eventually the experiment was done and the results were as we had originally
expected: D increased as c increased for the first few solutions in the series, then
started decreasing with increasing c for the last few solutions.
Now, let’s compare this situation with that of the bakery owner. While the
details of the work are quite different, the actual process of doing it is very similar. I
have my reasons for choosing to do this work, I have practical details to work out,
and if things work out well I am content and go on to complete my work, while if
difficulties arise I have to use my imagination to solve the difficulties or else aban-
don the work. If I could not have solved the problem with the experiment, I would
have had to stop work on it and find another experiment to do; if I had been unable
to get any experiment to work, I may even have had to abandon my goal of obtaining
a doctorate, or else spend more years obtaining it then I had originally expected. The
only essential difference between the work of the scientist and the bakery owner is
that the work of the scientist usually requires a great deal of abstract thinking using
concepts that are quite removed from our everyday commonsense experiences.
Otherwise, the process is much the same.
The work of a single researcher doing a set of experiments is of course just one
small part of the entire development of science, but the characteristic features of the
work of each scientist that are exemplified in this example get amplified when we
start looking at the scientific enterprise as a whole. Our current understanding of
the development of science got started with the work of a number of historians of
science that emerged around the time Thomas S. Kuhn published The Structure of
Scientific Revolutions (1962). Before this time, the “scientific method” was conceived
as a process of establishing hypotheses and testing them experimentally, and the
advance of science was conceived as the accumulation of new techniques and
theories. My own experiment was originally conceived as a test of hypotheses, which
illustrates how this process contributes to the scientific method. However, we now
understand that underlying the design of these “normal” experiments are certain
implicit assumptions about reality. When a conflict occurs between the results of the
experiments and what is expected, a tension develops in the scientist

that can only be released by solving the discrepancy or abandoning the work. In my
case, the failure of the experiment to yield interpretable results required a
concentrated effort to determine what was wrong in the theoretical analysis of the
technique or in the design of the experiment—it was necessary to understand
explicitly some assumption that was implicit in the design and analysis of the
experiment. This was, of course, a relatively minor problem in a narrow specialty,
but it was still a problem of great personal concern to me. When discrepancies are
deeper and more fundamental and start affecting broader fields of study, the tension
increases, more and more scientists are affected by this tension, and the conflict
within the scientific field in which the discrepancies occur increases. Discrepancies
that affect entire disciplines, such as the problems with Newtonian physics that
affected all of physics in the early twentieth century and eventually led to the
invention of the theory of relativity by Albert Einstein, cause severe turmoil within
these disciplines, a great deal of bitter controversy, and increased philosophizing
about the sources of the discrepancies. This turmoil continues until some new and
revolutionary theory that offers the opportunity to successfully solve these conflicts
finally emerges and is adopted by the scientific community.
Thus, we are developing insight into science as a human enterprise, similar in
kind to the arts and literature, business, government, and other human enterprises.
The insights that we have developed in the philosophy and history of science have
increased our understanding of how man thinks, and we will return to these insights
profitably later on. For the present, though, I want the reader to recognize that the
thinking of the scientist can, in some sense, be very similar to the commonsense
thinking of the ordinary man.
At this point, I want to raise an important question. In discussing our common-
sense thought, I have shown that we do not conceive of our thinking about ends as
different than our thinking about means, that instead we think of both at the same
time; by analogy I have implied that the same is true of the more abstract thinking of
science. Every decision about what we ought to do implies some understanding of
how the world works, and every act of understanding how the world works implies
some decision about what we ought to do. Another way to state this is to say that we
can view a man’s thinking as a process of deciding what to do, as a process of
understanding how the world works, or as both together. In looking at the thinking
of the bakery owner, it is perhaps easier to view it as primarily a matter of deciding
what ought to be done, since the man’s view of how the world works seems fairly
obvious and commonsense; in looking at the thinking of the scientist, it may be
easier to view it as primarily a matter of deciding how the world works, since this
man’s view of how the world works in his field of study is far from obvious and
commonsense. But the picture I have given of commonsense thinking and scientific
thinking is that the process of deciding what we ought to do is not separated from
and different than the process of deciding how the world works.

Now, the question I want to ask is: has most modern intellectual thought
conceived the process of deciding what we ought to do as being synonymous with
the process of deciding how the world works, or has it conceived the two types of
thinking as being quite different in kind? The answer is clearly the latter: the
establishing of a purpose and meaning in life has been thought different than the
process of understanding the physical world. It is widely accepted as true that
descriptive truths (statements about how the world works) do not imply normative
judgements (statements about what we ought to do). When I say that our current
intellectual thought is not consistent with the commonsense thinking of ordinary
men and women, it is this split in the view of how man decides what he ought to do
and how he decides how the world works that I am referring to, and by analogy I am
implying that this split is also inconsistent with our growing understanding of the
history and philosophy of science. This split is the same as the one I referred to in
the last chapter, although it was stated somewhat differently there. Our decisions
about what we ought to do is our thinking of reality in terms of purpose, while our
decisions about how the world works is our thinking of reality in terms of cause. If
the split between these two types of thinking is resolved, than our intellectual
thought will become consistent with both our commonsense thinking and our
scientific thinking.
To understand how this split occurred, we can ask whether there has been a
time in Western thought when we did not have this split. The answer is yes. The
thought of Aristotle and its later development and reconciliation with Christian
theology by Thomas Aquinas gave a view of reality in which cause and purpose were
synonymous. In all fairness, there were discrepancies between the philosophical
concepts of nature and the practical theories of working scientists and engineers, as
there were likewise discrepancies between the avowed moral precepts of the church
and the actual practice of men and women; but nevertheless, in intellectual thought
reality was viewed as much or more so in terms of purpose and it was in terms of
cause, and there was not a clear differentiation between the two points of view.
In ancient and medieval thought it was believed that there were two types of
material: terrestrial and celestial. Terrestrial material was composed of four
elements: earth, water, air, and fire. Each of these elements were thought to have a
natural place it desired to be: at the center of the universe we had earth, then above
that water, then above that air, and above that fire. Because terrestrial matter was
not perfect, there were disturbances in the locations of these elements, but the
movement of terrestrial matter could be understood by its desire to return to its
natural location. Thus, a stone fell to the earth because the stone, being earth
material, desired to be at the center of the universe. Fire and smoke rose upward
because they desired to be above the earth. Beyond the elements of earth were the

celestial bodies: the moon, planets, and sun. These formed spheres around the earth:
first the moon, then Mercury, Venus, the sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The celestial
bodies were considered perfect and divine, so it was considered obvious that they
should move in the most perfect way, with uniform circular motion. Outside the
spheres of the moon, sun, and planets was the sphere of the fixed stars, and beyond
that was Heaven. It was thought that the motion of each sphere caused the motion of
the next sphere inside it, and so on until the motion of the moon moves the elements
of the earth. Logically, it appeared necessary to postulate the existence of an
immovable mover outside the last sphere, which was considered a proof of the
existence of God. As a whole, this view of the world saw the world as a large
organism, analogous to a living being, with God desiring to move the universe, with
each celestial body being a spirit that moved the next celestial closer to the earth,
and so on until finally there were the elements of the earth desiring their proper
locations.
This scheme provided a tidy and unified view of the universe. Moreover, there
was no differentiation in thought between the universe conceived as caused and the
universe conceived as the fulfillment of man’s purpose in life. A logically consistent
system for viewing the universe in this fashion was worked out by medieval
philosophers based on the philosophy of Aristotle.
Despite the logical soundness of this system of thought, there were some
problems. Even in ancient times it was known that the motion of the moon, planets,
and sun could not be calculated using perfect circular motion, and instead
astronomers developed a complicated system of epicycles (superpositions of
circular motion) to calculate the positions of the celestial bodies. As a whole, such
discrepancies did not create many problems as there was little discussion between
the men of philosophical temperament and those involved with practical affairs. In
ancient times and most of the Middle Ages, men who devised theories came from the
upper classes and despised those who did manual labor, so social custom discour-
aged the testing of general principles by experiment. Modern science developed
when men who thought philosophically started checking principles experimentally.
The transition between medieval and modern physics first started with
Copernicus. Astronomy based on the Ptolemaic system, with the earth placed at the
center of the universe, had previously had many successes, and was far better than
any other ancient system, but by the time of Copernicus the system had become so
complicated and inaccurate that it seemed doubtful to many that it could possibly be
a true description of nature. Moreover, it was causing many practical problems, such
as errors in the design of calendars. To provide an alternative system on which to
base astronomy, Copernicus advanced the theory that it was the sun and not the
earth that was at rest at the center of the universe, and that the earth moves around

the sun as well as rotating about its own center. This theory met with a great deal of
resistance, however, not only because it upset the view of the universe that had
become common sense to most men, but also because it contradicted all the known
principles of physics. The earth was considered of a very different material than the
celestial bodies, and earth was thought by its nature to move in a straight line to the
center of the universe, a principle that seemed to be confirmed by the behavior of
stones and other matter on the earth. Since Copernicus had no consistent theory of
motion to replace the old views, they could not simply be abandoned. To adopt the
views of Copernicus about astronomy required that scientists adopt laws for
astronomy that were logically inconsistent with the laws of physics. Moreover, the
Copernican astronomical system itself was initially neither simpler nor more
accurate than the Ptolemaic system, so again it was not apparent to many that it
should be a better description of reality. However, the Copernican system did
provide a new approach that gave astronomers a way to deal with their problems
that they otherwise would not have had, and with time it became more accepted.
Further advances in astronomy were made by Kepler based on the Copernican
system, and Galileo made advances in the laws of motion that helped remove some
of the conflicts between the Copernican system and the laws of physics. This work
finally culminated in the laws of motion advanced by Isaac Newton, and the Western
world underwent a decisive shift in its view of the universe.
It was out of this intellectual ferment that modern philosophical thought was
born, part of the effort of man to establish a new view of the universe to replace the
old view that was being destroyed. It was at this time that some basic philosophical
errors were made, errors that have led to the split in our intellectual thought in
modern times. These errors and the problems they have created in modern thought
have been discussed by Mortimer J. Adler in Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985).
They are basic errors that lead after a long series of deductions to conclusions that
violate our common sense, but modern philosophers have not solved these prob-
lems by correcting the original false assumptions, and instead have resorted to ever
more complicated devices to get rid of absurd conclusions.
The way to reconcile philosophy with common sense is to correct the original
errors. Adler gives a detailed defense of this solution to the problems of modern
philosophy in Ten Philosophical Mistakes. I will outline some of his ideas here.
In the Introduction to his Essay Concerning Human Understanding, John Locke
defines the word “idea” as whatever is the object of understanding when a man
thinks. What are the ideas about which a man can think? As Adler points out, the
mental activities that we call “thinking” include such things as “perceiving,”
“remembering,” “imagining,” “conceiving,” “judging,” “reasoning,” “sensing”, and
“feeling”; thus, our “ideas” include percepts, memories, images, thoughts or con-
cepts, sensations, and feelings. These are the “ideas” which Locke considers the

object of our thinking. What is the result of considering our ideas the objects of our
thought? First of all, if our ideas are the objects of our thought, then the only thing of
which we can be conscious are our own ideas; we cannot, for instance, be aware of
the ideas of other people. I have my ideas, you have your ideas, but we do not share
these ideas with each other, we can only infer the existence of these ideas in other
people indirectly from our perceptions of their actions. But more than this, it denies
that we have the ability to share perceptions of things we believe to be physically
real. For example, if we are sitting in a room and there is a table between us, I can
infer the existence of the table from my perception of the table and you can do
likewise, but we do not in any direct sense know that the table I perceive is the same
as the table you perceive. Again, we can only decide this by inference.
If we continue the reasoning from this basic premise, as other philosophers
have done, we are eventually led to absurd conclusions that contradict common
sense. One of these conclusions is that it is impossible to have any knowledge of
reality outside of our own minds, that anything of which we are aware is purely a
construction of our own mind and has no reality of its own. To avoid these absurd
conclusions, philosophers have resorted to various devises. For example, Locke
assumed that at least some of our ideas are representations of things that really
exist in the external, physical world, and from there he tried to develop an episte-
mology that led to conclusions consistent with common sense. But when one takes
this approach it becomes difficult to explain how these ideas come to be representa-
tions; moreover, later philosophers have shown that the conclusions that Locke
eventually reached were the result of invalid reasoning. As modern thought has
developed, the devices to solve these problems have become increasingly more
complicated and obscure. Immanuel Kant introduced a priori or transcendental
factors as part of the constitution of the mind in an effort to solve these problems,
but the philosophy he then produces is a legacy to complexity and obscurity. Aside
from the logical problems with his work that later philosophers have found and
tried to correct, we must ask ourselves whether, if philosophy is truly aimed at
understanding the world that everyday living and common sense presents to us, any
philosophy that is as complex as the thought of Kant be a true conception of reality?
The correct way to solve the problem is to recognize that, except for our purely
subjective sensations and feelings, our ideas are not the object of our thought, not
that which we apprehend when we are conscious, but rather that by which we
apprehend objects which are not ideas. This is the answer that Thomas Aquinas
gives in Part I of his Summa Theologica: our ideas are that by which we apprehend
objects that have existence outside of ourselves. If we take this approach, then we
are not lead to the absurd conclusions that many philosophers have had to make, but
instead are led to a natural commonsense view of the world. Rather than viewing
each man as isolated in his own individual and private world, with the existence of
the external world only being inferred from his ideas, we instead view all men as

sharing the same external world. The objects we perceive, remember, imagine, or
conceive, can likewise be perceived, remembered, imagined, or conceived by other
men. In short, we can communicate with each other about reality.
The error of considering our ideas the object of our thought leads to the
concept that the mind and body are separate and that there is a subjective reality
and an objective reality. This leads to the dualistic metaphysics I discussed in the last
chapter. If we consider our ideas as that by which we perceive real objects, then we
are not led to the concept that the mind and body are separate, and the distinction
between subjective reality and objective reality disappears. We avoid a dualistic
metaphysics, and with it all the ambiguities and obscurities that have pervaded
modern intellectual thought. We avoid the internal divisions within our scientific
and humanistic thought, the division between our scientific and humanistic thought,
and the division between our intellectual thought and our commonsense thought.
And we do this not through complex and artificial philosophical constructions, but in
a simple way that is easily comprehended.
Chapter V
Logic, Mathematics, and Scientific Truth

The dualistic split in Western intellectual thought, which has resulted from the
incorrect assumption that our ideas are the objects of our thought, has led to the
predominance of two schools of thought in twentieth century philosophy. On the one
hand, we have the school of analytic and linguistic philosophy, which is closely
related to and has merged with the schools of positivism, empirocriticism, logical
positivism, and logical empiricism. On the other hand, we have the schools of
continental philosophy, which include phenomenology and existentialism. The
analytic and linguistic philosophies have been closely associated with logic, mathe-
matics, the natural sciences, and some schools in the social sciences, such as
behaviorism in psychology; the continental philosophies have been closely associ-
ated with other schools in the social sciences, such as humanistic psychology, and
with the humanities. In Chapter III, I discussed the effects of phenomenology and
existentialism on humanistic psychology, which illustrates the ways in which these
philosophies have been used. In this chapter I will discuss the analytic and linguistic
philosophies.
In this chapter I will discuss only a part of the work that can be included in the
analytic and linguistic tradition of philosophy. I will not discuss linguistic theory, for
example. Rather, I will discuss what the philosophers of this tradition wanted to
achieve in the study of logic, mathematics, and the nature of scientific truth. Since I
will not be discussing their theories of language, I will call all of the philosophers in
this tradition analytic philosophers. In doing this, I am simplifying the history of this
tradition not only by ignoring linguistic theory, but also by ignoring the diversity of
opinion within analytic theory. Since there is not a clear separation between, say, an
analytic philosopher and a logical positivist, I think this is the simplest way to
discuss this group.
As I explained in Chapter III, the most extreme view of this school holds that
the only meaningful knowledge is that given by the sentences of logic and mathe-
matics, and the experimentally verifiable postulates of science and history that have
appeal to empirical evidence. I will take this as the characteristic view of analytic
philosophy, although again I realize I am simplifying this discussion by not consid-
47
Logic, Mathematics, and Scientific Truth 48
ering the philosophers within this group who have disagreed with this extreme view.
It is this view that has guided most of the work of this school.
Before I discuss analytic philosophy, I want to discuss some general features of
logic. Since all understanding requires some concept of what is required for
reasoning to be correct, logic is necessarily the most fundamental field of study in
establishing the truth or falseness of any statement. Logic underlies all mathematics,
science, and history, as well as the rest of philosophy.
Traditionally, logicians have distinguished between deductive logic and in-
ductive logic. Deductive logic establishes principles for making logical conclusions
based on given premises. For example, if we assert that “Bill’s cat is white” and “the
cat on the chair is black,” then by deduction we can conclude that “the cat on the
chair is not Bill’s cat.” Inductive logic, on the other hand, establishes principles for
making conclusions based on particular facts that serve as evidence for these
principles. For example, if we often see Bill carrying a white cat, we may conclude
that “Bill’s cat is white.”
Nowadays logicians no longer make this distinction. The problems that were
considered problems of inductive logic are no longer seen as logical problems, but
rather as problems in the methodology of science. Logic today means deductive
logic. Nevertheless, many of the important philosophers of the analytic tradition
assumed that the problem of establishing conclusions by appeal to evidence was a
problem of logic, and it was ultimately the failure of this assumption that led
philosophers to consider induction as a part of the methodology of science and not
as a part of logic.
Although logic underlies all branches of knowledge, there has always been a
question as to whether logic alone is enough to establish knowledge. Although some
kinds of knowledge are clearly the result of deduction—for example, all the
theorems of geometry are logical deductions from a small number of axioms—
mathematics seems to require principles that go beyond logic. Moreover, scientific
theories require what has been called induction in order to be established. Can
mathematics and induction ultimately be understood in terms of deductive logic?
Underlying the work of the analytic philosophers was the assumption that
mathematics and induction can be reduced to deductive logic, and they tried to
formulate the basic principles of mathematics in terms of logic and to establish
induction as purely a matter of logical analysis. They recognized that the principles
of science and history also need an appeal to investigative experience to be
established, but they believed that given all the relevant observations, one could
correctly deduce these principles using logic alone. They also recognized that
scientific theories could never be irrevocably proven because later experience might
require a theory to be modified, but again they believed that the most probable
theory could be established logically using the available observations.

The analytic philosophers failed to do this, and it is now generally conceded

that this is impossible. The implications of this failure for our understanding of
human thought are enormous, however, and for this reason I will discuss what they
attempted to do and why they failed. But before I do this, I want to explain what this
failure means in a practical sense.
One of the implications of the impossibility of reducing mathematics and
scientific methodology to logic can be explained as follows. In the application of logic
to the analysis of arguments a number of logical fallacies have been identified. For
example, a well-known fallacy is to argue ad hominem, or against the man rather
than against his argument. We make this fallacy when, instead of addressing the
issues that a person raises, we argue that his beliefs are wrong because he is a crook
or a liar, or because he has certain political motives. Another fallacy is to argue in a
circle, which means to assume what one wants to prove. For example, suppose I tell
Mike that Bill is a great salesman. Mike asks me why Bill is a great salesman, and I
reply, “Because he sells a lot every month.” I have argued in a circle because I have
not really answered Mike’s question, but instead have simply said that Bill is a great
salesman because he sells a lot, which is more a definition of what a great salesman
is than an explanation of why he sells so much. I have committed the fallacy of circu-
lar argument.
The failure of the analytic philosophers to establish a logical basis for induction
effectively means that all arguments are ultimately circular. All arguments are
ultimately founded on some presuppositions that cannot be defended logically but
have to be accepted on grounds other than logic. For example, I pointed out in
Chapter I that all of the discussion in this book is predicated on the presupposition
that there is a knowable reality. I cannot defend this presupposition entirely by logic.
An opponent can be logically consistent in arguing against this proposition, and I
could not defeat his argument by showing that his argument was illogical, but could
only defeat his argument by showing that my argument was more reasonable in
some sense that goes beyond logic. All knowledge is ultimately based on some
decision that goes beyond logic.
To understand better what the analytic philosophers have done and why they
failed, it is useful to examine what are known as logical paradoxes. The advancement
of logic has, to a large extent, been the result of efforts to remove particular
paradoxes. A paradox is an argument that derives self-contradictory conclusions by
apparently valid deduction from acceptable premises. A famous paradox, which was
first associated with the Cretan philosopher Epimenides in the seventh century B.C.,
is the “liar paradox,” which occurs when a person says, “What I am now saying is a
lie.” If a person says, “What I am now saying is a lie,” then we can validly deduce that
his statement is true if it is false, and false if it is true, which is self-contradictory.
Solving paradoxes such as this has advanced logic, but the failure of the analytic
philosophers to establish a logical basis for induction means that we are ultimately

left with logical paradoxes that cannot be resolved by logic alone.

One of the founders of analytic philosophy was Bertrand Russell, who early in
the twentieth century worked to reduce mathematics to logic. Part of the reason he
did this was to solve a number of paradoxes in the foundations of mathematics,
paradoxes that can be considered counterparts of the liar’s paradox of Epimenides.
Russell believed that reducing mathematics to logic would help solve these para-
doxes. What does reducing logic to mathematics mean? This can be explained as
follows. Some fields of mathematics, such as geometry, are founded on what is called
the axiomatic method, but most of mathematics is founded on what is called the
genetic method. The axiomatic method constructs a mathematical system by using a
small set of premises, called axioms, and from these premises deducing the
theorems of the system. The genetic method instead establishes a system by gener-
ating the objects of the system in an orderly manner, and from these objects and
their obvious properties deducing the theorems of the system. Systems generated by
the axiomatic method are established by logic alone, but systems generated by the
genetic method appear to rely on principles that are outside of logic. Reducing
mathematics to logic would mean that we could generate all mathematical systems
by the axiomatic method, including those now generated by the genetic method.
In his attempt to reduce mathematics to logic, Russell showed that all of tradi-
tional pure mathematics, including analytical geometry, could be derived from the
properties of natural numbers, and furthermore that the entire theory of natural
numbers could be derived from three primitive ideas and five primitive propositions
in addition to the ideas of pure logic. Russell then tried to show that these three
primitive ideas, which are the ideas of zero, number, and successor, could be defined
in terms of the logical ideas of class, belonging to a class, and similarity. Russell
attempted to do this in Principia Mathematica, which he produced along with Alfred
North Whitehead between 1910 and 1913. Once he had completed this work,
Russell felt he had reduced mathematics to logic.
Although Russell came close to reducing mathematics to logic, ultimately his
solution fails. In 1931 Kurt Gödel proved an “incompleteness theorem” that shows
that it is impossible to establish axioms that provide a rigorous basis for all of
mathematics. Gödel’s incompleteness theorem can be explained as follows. A
mathematical system contains a set of objects along with a set of operators that
define relationships between these objects. For example, arithmetic contains such
objects as the natural numbers 0, 1, 2, 3, and so on, as well as such operators as “+”
for addition and “=” for equality. Any combination of objects and operators that can
be considered true or false is a sentence in the system. For example, “2 + 3 = 5” is a
sentence in arithmetic. Deductions from the axioms of the system, or from the

obvious properties of the objects of the system, establish whether a sentence is true
or false. For example, from the obvious properties of natural numbers we can
deduce that “2 + 3 = 5” is true and “3 + 1 = 8” is false. A system of mathematics is
complete if every possible sentence of the system can be proven either true or false.
What Gödel proved was that for a large class of formal systems, there are some
undecidable sentences, sentences that be neither proved nor disproved. Gödel’s
theorem applies to essentially all mathematical systems that are of significant
interest.
The proof of Gödel’s incompleteness theorem follows from what can be
considered an extension of the liar’s paradox. In a loose sense, Gödel showed that in
interesting formal systems you can construct a sentence that essentially means,
“This sentence cannot be proved.” Now, if the system is complete this sentence must
be either true or false. If it is true, then it cannot be proved to be true, but if it is false,
then it can be proved to be true, which is self-contradictory. This means that the
system is inconsistent. More exactly, Gödel showed that if a system is consistent
(meaning no theorems of the system are contradictory), then this statement is
unprovable and the system is incomplete (meaning there are sentences in the
system that cannot be decided). If the system is made complete, then it is
inconsistent. As part of this proof, Gödel showed that the consistency of a system
cannot be proven in the system. In other words, a judgement as to the consistency of
an interesting formal system cannot be made in the language of the system itself.
The significance of Gödel’s incompleteness theorem can be better understood
by considering one of the central concepts that Russell uses in Principia Mathemat-
ica. In developing his ideas, Russell came across a logical paradox that has become
known as “Russell’s paradox,” which again is a counterpart of the liar’s paradox. This
paradox arises in set theory, and Russell had to use set theory to give his definitions
of the three primitive ideas of the theory of natural numbers in terms of logical
concepts. Set theory is the logic of sets or classes, where a “set” or “class” is a
collection of objects of any kind, the objects being called members of that set or
class. (Some developments of set theory distinguish between sets and classes, but in
this discussion I am considering a class to be exactly the same as a set.) Now, the
member of a class can itself be a class. For example, the class of all Chrysler cars is a
member of the class of all makes of automobiles. It is also conceivable that a class
can be a member of itself. In developing set theory it is important to make a distinc-
tion between classes that are members of themselves, and classes that are not
members of themselves. Most classes are not members of themselves, as in the
above example: the class of all Chrysler cars is not itself a member of the class of all
Chrysler cars. In developing set theory we need to limit our attention to those
classes and only those classes that are not members of themselves.
Although limiting our attention to those classes and only those classes that are

not members of themselves can be stated as a condition for certain developments of

set theory, we have a problem when we consider the class of all classes that are not
members of themselves. Let us call this class T. We are defining T as containing only
classes that are not members of themselves, which are the classes we wish to
consider. But we have a problem. We can ask ourselves if T is a member of itself,
with the following result. If T is a member of itself, then it does not satisfy the
condition of membership, and so it is not a member of itself. But if it is not a member
of itself, then it does satisfy the condition of membership, and so it is a member of
itself. This is self-contradictory, and presents a paradox that can potentially invali-
date Russell’s reduction of mathematics to logic. Russell believed he solved this
paradox by developing his “theory of types,” which is the theory that classes form a
hierarchy of types and that a class can only be regarded as a member or nonmember
of a class that is at the next higher level in the hierarchy. Another way of stating this
is to say that the judgement of membership of a class in another class cannot be
decided in the same language in which the first class is described, but only in a
language at a higher level in the hierarchy. This is essentially what Gödel was to
show later in the first part of his proof of his incompleteness theorem.
What Gödel proved in total was that the solution that Russell proposed to this
paradox still leaves a paradox in the language in which it is stated. To solve this new
paradox one must go to a language of a higher level, but again one finds a new
paradox. The process continues indefinitely, and one can never find a language of a
high enough order to resolve the paradox. The paradox is irresolvable by logic.
The implications of Gödel’s incompleteness theorem are enormous and have
had a profound effect on logic and mathematics. It is closely related to a result in the
field of logic known as recursive function theory, which is the study of mathematical
functions to determine if they can be calculated mechanically. If they can be
calculated mechanically, then a computer can be programmed to calculate them. A
computer is essentially a device for making logical deductions from a given set of
premises, premises that are implicit in the logical structure, or algorithm, of the
computer program. Functions that can be calculated mechanically, and thus can be
calculated by a computer, are called recursive functions. If mathematics can be
reduced to logic, then a logical procedure for calculating all functions should be
possible, and all functions should be recursive. If mathematics cannot be reduced to
logic, then there must be some functions that are not recursive. Indeed, it has been
shown that a large number of important functions, including many in elementary
number theory, are not recursive. Since they are not recursive, they cannot be
calculated mechanically.
What are the implications of these results? Since it is impossible to reduce all of
mathematics to logic, then the attempt must be ill conceived. It should not be
thought necessary or desirable to make this reduction. What has led to the idea that

such a reduction is possible and desirable? Essentially it follows from the error in
philosophy I discussed earlier, the notion that our ideas are the objects of our
thought and not that by which we apprehend objects that have existence outside of
ourselves. I will not be able to give a rigorous explanation of this, but I will give a
heuristic explanation.
Mathematical concepts are ideas, and if we assume that they are objects of our
thought, then they must necessarily be logically complete and consistent since they
must exist independently of our minds. However, if we assume that mathematical
concepts are that by which we apprehend objects that have existence outside of
ourselves, then we do not necessarily need to assume that they are logically com-
plete and consistent, but rather we can assume that they require some action of the
mind that lies outside the realm of logic.
Another way to explain this is to ask whether we “discover” or “create” new
ideas when we advance mathematics. Here I am using “discover” in the sense of
“finding something that already exists in its entirety,” while I am using “create” in the
sense of “making something that doesn’t already exist at all.” If we believe that when
we develop mathematical ideas we discover them, then we believe that these ideas
have independent existence. The view of the analytic philosophers is that we
discover mathematical ideas. However, if we believe mathematical ideas are entirely
the result of the willful action of the human mind, then we believe that they are
created. The continental philosophers would consider mathematical ideas to be
created. Neither the view of the analytic philosophers nor the view of the
continental philosophers is correct. We neither “discover” nor “create” mathematical
ideas in the sense I have defined these terms. Instead, what we do is “invent”
mathematical ideas in the sense that we “make something that doesn’t exist out of
something that already exists.” This view comes naturally when we understand that
our ideas are that by which we apprehend an object that has existence outside of
ourselves.
The analytic philosophers believed not only that mathematics could be reduced
to logic, but also that scientific methodology could be reduced to logic. Of course,
science differs from mathematics in that it is investigatory and relies on empirical
evidence, so science itself cannot be reduced to logic. It will always be necessary to
make observations and perform experiments in order to advance science. But the
analytic philosophers believed that scientific theories could be deduced logically
from a set of observations or experimental results, and they devoted a great deal of
effort to reducing scientific methodology to logical analysis. Just as they believed
that mathematical concepts are “discovered,” so too they believed that scientific
theories are “discovered.” However, just as they failed to reduce mathematics to
logic, they also failed to reduce scientific methodology to logic.
One reason they failed is obvious. Since scientific theories are based on
mathematics and not just logic, then if it is impossible to reduce mathematics to

logic, it is also impossible to reduce scientific methodology to logic. But there are
additional problems. The analytic philosophers tried to use probability theory and
statistical analysis to show that scientific induction is a process of choosing the
theory that has the greatest probability of explaining observations or experimental
results. This idea arises quite naturally because the actual experimental validation of
hypotheses does require a choice between competing theories, and that choice
inherently involves a statistical analysis. For example, the experiment that I de-
scribed in Chapter IV was designed to distinguish between two models for the
chemical kinetics of the DNA-ligand system. This is the classic way of designing a
scientific experiment, and when we analyzed the results of the experiment, we chose
as correct the model that best fit the experimental data. The analysis of the data
required a statistical analysis of goodness of fit; we had to choose as correct the
model that statistics told us had the greatest probability of being correct. Neverthe-
less, although the idea that a scientist chooses the most probable model or theory is
inherent in the design and analysis of all experiments, there are serious difficulties
with the idea that scientific induction is solely a matter of choosing the most
probable theory. For example, although in our research we chose as correct the
model that best fit the data, we only considered two models, and the notion that one
accepts the most probable model doesn’t explain why we chose those two models in
the first place. This problem is a classic one in chemical kinetics, since it is easy to
construct alternative models that fit all the known experimental data.
In chemical kinetics, the criterion for selecting one model over others that also
fit the experimental data is often described as “simplicity”—the “simpler” or “sim-
plest” of the models that fit the data is chosen as correct. If one wanted to reduce the
process of choosing models in chemical kinetics to logical deduction, then one must
be able to reduce such criteria as “simplicity” to logical criteria. The process of
selecting the simplest model then becomes the process of testing all possible models
using these logical criteria. But if we try to do this we immediately run into
difficulties. Since there are in principle an infinite number of theories, it is impos-
sible to test them all. Likewise, we can in principle devise an infinite number of tests
of any one theory, so it becomes impossible to apply all of the tests. Furthermore,
any logical procedure for analyzing experimental work requires constructing some
language in which the analysis is described, but since new theories at times require
a change in the language in which the problem is described, it would be necessary to
analyze the work in all possible languages, of which there are also an infinite num-
ber. Moreover, by Gödel’s incompleteness theorem, the consistency of the language is
not deducible in that language, so the languages in which one may wish to analyze
the problem may leave the problem undecidable. In short, one is led inextricably to
logical paradoxes that defeat any attempt to verify theories solely on logical grounds.
Others have tried to show that the acceptance of scientific laws is a process of
falsification rather than a process of verification, but in that case one is led into the

trap that no theory accounts perfectly for all of the experimental data, so all theories
would have to be falsified. Again, one is led into a logical paradox.
These results confirm and enlarge on the results obtained from the attempt to
reduce mathematics to logic. Just as we do not accept mathematical principles for
purely logical reasons, we also do not accept scientific theories for purely logical
reasons. That is, scientific induction cannot be understood as logical deduction from
a few elementary principles. The advancement of mathematics and science require
actions of the mind that cannot be understood logically.
There are a number of important implications that follow from this work. One
of these is that our minds do not work mechanically. In other words, our minds are
not a mechanism in the same way that, say, a computer is a mechanism. Another
important implication is the following. If there were a logical procedure for inducing
scientific theories, then any event that occurs in the physical world would have to
follow logically from some prior event. That is, an omniscient intelligence that knew
all that could be known about the world could in principle determine exactly what
would happen in the future. Every event in the world would thus be determined
prior to its happening. However, if there is not a logical procedure for inducing
scientific theories and we must resort to some other basis on which to decide their
validity, then there is no conceivable way that such an omniscient intelligence could
understand everything that must be understood in order to determine exactly what
would happen in the future. Every event in the world would not then be determined
prior to its happening. The basic assumption of the philosophers of the analytic
tradition implies determinism, and the failure of this assumption necessarily implies
freedom of choice.
The meaning of this can be clarified by considering the use of computers. A
computer can quickly and accurately make deductions from general principles, the
general principles being implicit in the logical structure of the computer program. If
we had a strictly logical procedure for establishing mathematical and scientific
theories, then we could in principle devise a computer program that would be able
to develop mathematical theories and make scientific inductions. Thus, the
advancement of mathematics and science could become a strictly rote process, one
that would require no imagination or creativity. But since there is no strictly logical
procedure for establishing mathematical and scientific theories, this is impossible to
do even in principle. The human mind does not work like a computer; a computer
cannot be programmed to be imaginative or creative in the way that the human
mind can be. The development of mathematics and science is a human activity. The
theories of mathematics and science do not exist independently of the human
mind—they are concepts by which we apprehend objects that have existence

outside of ourselves, not concepts that have independent existence and are the
objects of our apprehension.
If we do not accept mathematical and scientific theories for strictly logical
reasons, then how do we decide whether something is true or not? In Philosophy of
Science (1957), Philipp Frank discusses some of the pragmatic reasons that scien-
tists give for accepting certain theories and not others. Some scientists say that the
theories they accept appear to them to be “simpler” or “more elegant” than other
theories—somehow they are more concise and pleasing. But the decisive reason
does not seem to be considerations of this sort, but rather something that has been
called “dynamic.” The theory is more dynamic in that it gives the scientists new
insights and approaches that allow them to solve problems in their field and to
advance the field more successfully. A good example is the acceptance of the Coper-
nican system over the Ptolemaic system—initially it was neither simpler nor more
accurate, but it did allow astronomers to try new approaches to solving their
problems, something the old system no longer seemed able to do.
The insights of the philosophers of science on the pragmatic reasons that
scientists give for accepting theories have now combined with new approaches in
the history of science to give us a completely new picture of the nature of science
and the criteria for scientific truth. Thomas S. Kuhn describes the new ideas in the
history of science in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1970). I will describe
the main outlines of what Kuhn has said.
In Kuhn’s analysis, and my discussion of it that follows, the term “science” is
used in a broad sense to mean essentially all fields of research apart from first-order
philosophy—principally science, but also second-order philosophy, mathematics,
and history. I don’t think this broadening of the definition of science for this
discussion should be confusing.
Kuhn and other historians of science changed their approach to the history of
science because they were having difficulty fitting what they learned about historical
events in science into the then generally accepted picture of the development of
science, which assumed that science grew by the accumulation of individual discov-
eries and inventions, a picture that comes across in textbooks together with the
popularizations and philosophical works that are modelled on them. In general,
these books show the development of science as a process of discovering new
theories and new techniques that better describe and measure a particular set of
problems, a set of problems accepted as important at the time the books are written,
not necessarily at the time of the discoveries the books describe. But historians had
found that it was difficult to identify precisely when these discoveries were made,
who made these discoveries, the reasons other scientists had erred, and the
superstitions that prevented some scientists from accepting the new discoveries.
The more they studied the older theories, such as Aristotelian dynamics or philo-

gistic chemistry, the more these theories appeared as valid and scientific from their
own point of view, and the less they appeared like products of myth or superstition.
These observations caused many historians to doubt the process of accumulation
they had assumed. The new way of understanding the development of science that
started to evolve from the work of these historians is the subject of Kuhn’s book.
To understand this new viewpoint, we need to understand the notion of a
scientific community, which Kuhn describes as the practitioners of a scientific
specialty. To a much greater extent than those in most other fields, they have had
similar educations and professional experiences, and have come to view their
specialty in a similar way. They share what Kuhn calls a paradigm, which is a
collection of beliefs, values, techniques, and so on that define the accepted theories
and techniques for studying the specialty, and the accepted problems for future
work in the field. Only rarely are there competing schools of thought, groups that
approach the same subject from incompatible viewpoints, and when they do exist
they usually disappear rapidly once one of the viewpoints prevails. Because of the
unanimity of beliefs among the members of a scientific community, scientists usually
do not debate the fundamentals of their field, but instead concentrate on those
problems that are accepted as important. This work is what Kuhn calls “normal
science,” which includes a number of activities. One of these is measuring certain
quantities that the paradigm says are important to know, such as boiling points of
liquids, specific gravities of solids and liquids, positions of stars, electrical
conductivities, characteristics of unknown biological species or unknown character-
istics of known species, and so on. Another activity is comparing observations with
the predictions of a theory, such as measuring the precession of Mercury’s periheli-
on and comparing it with the prediction of Einstein’s general theory of relativity. A
third type of activity is to advance the applications of the paradigm by such things as
measuring universal constants, deriving new quantitative laws, and applying the
theories to new areas in which the paradigm suggests the theories will improve
understanding. Included in these activities is what Kuhn calls “puzzle-solving,”
which is the finding of answers to problems for which the paradigm assures there
are answers. Just as a person would not want to attempt to solve a jig-saw puzzle if it
were impossible to assemble a picture, so too do scientists work only on problems
for which the paradigm assures them there is a solution. Much of this work may
require great ingenuity and can be fascinating, but it does not aim to produce major
new theories or to discover new phenomena, but rather aims to fit the specialty into
the mold that the paradigm presents. Normal science occurs when the principles
and values of the community remain fixed.
An important aspect of normal science is that the scientists gain much of their
understanding of the nature of the paradigm through their application of the theo-
ries and other principles of the paradigm, rather than through explicit explanation

of them. For example, a physics student will learn Newton’s second law of motion—
force equals mass times acceleration—which is taught as a basic law of nature. But
simply being taught this does not mean the student can use this law; rather, he
learns its use through a series of problems to which this law is applied. At first,
learning to use the law can be quite difficult, but with time and practice an intuitive
understanding of the application of these principles develops in the student, and it is
only at this time that he has really “learned” the second law of motion. This occurs
throughout the education of the scientist, and he learns his field as much or more
from actually doing the work as from studying the principles upon which the work is
based. Much of the understanding that the scientist has of his field is difficult for him
to articulate explicitly, and as he advances in his education and learns a technical
specialty, it becomes increasingly difficult for the scientist to communicate what he
is doing to scientists and laymen outside his field of specialty. The scientists within
the field communicate to themselves through special journals and at conferences
that are attended by other members of the community. This intense specialization is
a major characteristic of advanced sciences.
The scientific community is an efficient way to achieve the goals that normal
science tries to attain, and it also appears to be an efficient way to encounter new
phenomena and invent new theories even if these are not the goals of normal
science. The intense specialization that scientists attain allows them to study a small
piece of nature in minute and precise detail, and as long as they are able to fit these
observations into the mold that the paradigm gives them, normal science will
continue. But occasionally scientists make discoveries that cannot be fit into the
paradigm, or they repeatedly fail to solve a problem that the paradigm says should
be solved. An example of the former is Röntgen’s discovery of X-rays in 1895, and of
the latter is the failure of the Ptolemaic system to account for astronomical observa-
tions. If these “anomalies” are judged important, the scientists continue to try to fit
their observations into the mold provided by the paradigm, but when these efforts
repeatedly fail, scientists start searching for new approaches to solve their prob-
lems. A crisis begins to emerge within the field, and what had previously been a
unified community may start breaking into factions with different approaches to
solving the problem.
The development of a crisis in a field results in activity quite different from that
of normal science. For example, since much of the scientists’ understanding of their
field is intuitive and a result of their training as much as it is from the explicitly
stated principles of the paradigm, there is increased work at trying to understand
the philosophical foundations of the field in order to make these implicit assump-
tions explicit. If a crisis continues and remains unresolved the solution of the crisis
starts to become the major focus of the community and eventually comes to be seen

as the purpose of work in the field.

A crisis within a field can be resolved in one of three ways. First, the observa-
tions may finally be fit back into the conceptual mold of the paradigm; second, the
practitioners of the field may find no solution and may abandon the field for a later
date when an attack on the problem appears more promising; or third, a new theory
and paradigm may emerge to replace the old one. The new paradigm does not
emerge without controversy, however. The theories and beliefs of the new paradigm
involve what can be considered a change in world view, a totally new way of looking
at the field. Because the new world view is premised on different assumptions, it is
difficult for the practitioners of one viewpoint to understand those with the other
viewpoint—they argue through each other, their arguments do not mesh. The
process by which the community rejects the old paradigm and adopts a new one
cannot be one of simple logic because the proponents of different paradigms
effectively see the world from a different point of view. The logical arguments given
by members of one group appear to be circular to the members of other groups, as
indeed they are because they are premised on different assumptions. For example,
the old law of motion accepted in the Middle Ages said that a body falls to the
ground because it is the nature of the body to fall to the ground, while smoke rises
because it is the nature of smoke to rise. Once one accepts the more modern laws of
Newton, the old laws of motion appear to be meaningless. They appear to say that
some bodies fall because they fall and other bodies rise because they rise. It appears
that one is simply assuming what one is trying to prove. But as is discussed by Frank
in Philosophy of Science, the same argument can be made against Newton’s laws:
when they are examined closely, it can be seen that they do not by themselves say
anything about the world, but rather simply provide a machinery by which what
actually happens can be predicted. The philosophical content that is provided by the
laws is not explicit in the statement of the laws, but rather is implicit in the mind of
the scientists who apply them. As long as these assumptions remain implicit the
scientists supporting two competing paradigms will inevitably be talking a different
language and their arguments will not join.
We encountered the concept of different languages before when we discussed
one of the pitfalls of the efforts of the analytic philosophers to find a logical
procedure for establishing mathematical and scientific theories. There are in
principle an infinite number of different languages in which these theories can be
formulated. If we wish to deduce a mathematical theory, we are led through an
infinite number of these languages as we attempt to resolve logical paradoxes; if we
wish to deduce a scientific theory, we need to test our theories in an infinite number
of languages. The impossibility of doing this means that the proponents of different
paradigms cannot resolve their disagreement by logical arguments.
If the arguments supporting competing paradigms cannot be resolved by logic,

then how is it that scientists are finally convinced that one paradigm is better than
the other? Some scientists never are, they are never able to see the new point of
view, and the field eventually progresses without them. Some have said that this
resistance to change shows that even scientists cannot admit their errors when they
are confronted with proof of opposing views, but the change from one point of view
to another is a major reordering for the scientist, and is very difficult for a person
who has long been committed to another point of view. This resistance to change is
in many ways a major strength of the scientific community, for it is the motivating
force for normal or puzzle-solving science, and a key reason for its success.
Moreover, it assures that new viewpoints will not be adopted capriciously for
reasons that later turn out to be fallacious. But ultimately old viewpoints must be
abandoned and new ones adopted if science is to advance.
Although the advance of a field from one paradigm to another often occurs
when one generation replaces another, it also often occurs because many or all of
the scientists in a field are converted from the old paradigm to the new paradigm.
The reasons for this change are often difficult to discern, but certain criteria appear
to be important. Some scientists will argue that the new paradigm is notably better
at solving the problem that has led to the crisis; if this is true, and if it does not leave
unsolved too many of the problems that the old paradigm solved, this is an effective
argument, and one that is often used. Other scientists will use the argument that the
new theory is simpler or more elegant, or other similar criteria. But none of these
arguments appear decisive, and the final decision for accepting a new paradigm over
the old one or some other alternative paradigm is not ultimately based on what the
new paradigm has achieved compared to the old paradigm, but rather on the
promise the paradigm provides for future research. The scientist who decides to
adopt a new paradigm does so because he has faith that the new paradigm will allow
progress to be made in the future. It is this quality of being “dynamic” that is the
final reason that scientists accept one paradigm over another, and science advances
as scientists follow through on their faith in the new paradigm.
These insights show that it is necessary to adopt a new view of human under-
standing. We see that advances in our scientific theories occur not for strictly logical
reasons, but rather require considerations of purpose. Scientists believe in a new
theory or a new law because it offers hope and direction for them. As science
progresses, the laws that have been established are laid down in textbooks and start
to appear to be self-evident descriptions of reality quite divorced from any nor-
mative prescriptions, but that is not how they were derived in the first place. The
findings of the analytic philosophers that there are no strictly logical grounds on
which to verify or falsify theories are corroborated by the historians who show that
new theories are never accepted for strictly logical reasons. An old theory is never
falsified in the absence of a new theory to replace it; old paradigms are only rejected

when new paradigms offering hope for future research are adopted. The process
occurs at the same time, and it involves a shift in world view for the scientists
making the change.
It is evident, then, that the epistemology of the analytic philosophers is unable
to adequately explain the true source of knowledge. This epistemology has its origin
in the incorrect assumption that our ideas are the objects of our thoughts, which
leads to the notion that scientific concepts are representations of some reality out-
side of ourselves, and that scientific process is just the accumulation of discoveries
and inventions that allow us to achieve a better representation of that reality. If
instead, we adopt the view that our scientific concepts are that by which we
apprehend objects that have existence outside of ourselves, then we are led to an
epistemology in which the human mind is necessarily a part of scientific under-
standing, and in which scientific theories cannot be conceived as being independent
of the human mind. We see, then, that this epistemology is consistent not only with
the commonsense understanding of the ordinary man, but also with the scientific
understanding we have of reality. What is the quality of the two types of thinking
that gives both this unity between the understanding of reality and the
understanding of purpose? The answer is that both types of thought result in
activities in which the acceptability of ideas can be proven or disproved relatively
quickly by experience. In our daily lives we quickly learn if our commonsense ideas
are right or wrong because we act on these ideas; in scientific work we quickly learn
if our ideas are right or wrong because we conduct experiments to test these
concepts. As discussed earlier, the closer the results follow upon our decisions, the
more obvious is the simultaneity of our thinking about means and ends.
The efforts of the analytic philosophers was based on the premise that the only
meaningful knowledge is that given by the sentences of logic and mathematics and
the theories of science and history that appeal to empirical evidence. For this to be
true requires that mathematics and the methodology of science and history be
reducible to logic, which is exactly what the analytic philosophers attempted to do.
The impossibility of doing this is essentially a reductio ad absurdum argument
against these premises. Logic, mathematics, science, and history require knowledge
other than what is given by logic and empirical observations in order to advance,
and if such knowledge is meaningless, then so are logic, mathematics, science, and
history.
The study of the philosophy and history of science show that inherent in the
advance of science is a conception of reality both in terms of cause (as given by the
theories and methodology of the paradigm) and in terms of purpose (as given in the
methodology and goals of the paradigm). Hence, scientific advancement requires a
metaphysics and moral philosophy, which are first-order philosophy. The unmis-
takable conclusion from the work of the analytic philosophers, and the study of the

philosophy and history of science, is that first-order philosophy is a necessary

component of the development and advancement of second-order philosophy,
mathematics, science, and history. To deny that first-order philosophy is knowledge
of the same order as that achieved by second-order philosophy, mathematics,
science, and history, is to undermine the very basis for advancement in those fields.
Chapter VI
Materialism, Sociobiology, and Modes of Reality

In the last chapter I discussed how the analytic philosophers attempted to reduce
mathematics and scientific methodology to logic. This work was premised on the
belief that our ideas are the objects of our thought, which leads to the notion that
our ideas must be logically complete and consistent in themselves. These beliefs
require that the ultimate source of knowledge be logic; in the view of the analytic
philosophers, truth must be logical consistency. The contradictions that result from
the work of the analytic philosophers argues against these beliefs, and show that
knowledge and truth require actions of the mind that go beyond logic.
The analytic philosophers argued that the only meaningful knowledge is that
given by the sentences of logic and mathematics and the experimentally verifiable
postulates of activities such as science and history that have appeal to empirical
evidence. This can be true, however, only if mathematics, science, and history can be
reduced to logic, for otherwise there would be no ultimate criterion for judging the
validity of any statement; if we deny that first-order philosophy can produce
meaningful knowledge, then the only basis for judging the truth or falseness must be
logic. Since the analytic philosophers showed that it is impossible to reduce all
knowledge to logic, they have produced a reductio ad absurdum argument that
proves the necessity for first-order philosophy. The advancement of second-order
philosophy, mathematics, science, and history require first-order philosophy; the
very fields of knowledge that the analytic philosophers claim are the only fields that
contain meaningful knowledge require first-order philosophy in order to exist.
Although the beliefs on which the analytic philosophers based their work are
wrong, there is a sense in which their beliefs are correct: once the concepts of logic,
mathematics, science, or history are established, they do not of themselves imply a
first-order philosophy. That is, the laws of physics or biology, the principles of
mathematics, well-established historical facts, or any such ideas do not by them-
selves imply a metaphysics or a moral philosophy.
This is an important point, and its effect on our understanding of scientific
63
Materialism, Sociobiology, and Modes of Reality 64
theories is discussed at great length by Philipp Frank in Philosophy of Science

(1957). I will discuss this in greater detail later in this book, and will give just a brief
summary here. We might imagine, say, that the laws of motion developed by Isaac
Newton imply something about the nature of reality. But when we examine these
laws in detail we find that they consist solely of a formal system in mathematics
along with a set of “operational definitions,” which is a set of rules that relate the
objects of the mathematical system to physically measurable things. For example,
Newton’s second law asserts that force equals mass times acceleration. The formal
system defines the relationship between force, mass, and acceleration, while the
operational definitions tell us how to measure force, mass, and acceleration. When
examined closely, this law implies nothing about the nature of reality other than to
say how force, mass, and acceleration are correlated in time.
As I will discuss later, this applies to all of the laws of science. Many people
have made suggestions that, say, Einstein’s theory of relativity implies determinism,
or that quantum mechanics implies free will. This is not true. No scientific law
implies a metaphysics.
How then are metaphysics and science related? Although scientific laws do not
by themselves imply first-order philosophy, all scientists have a first-order philoso-
phy that gives direction to their work. Some of this first-order philosophy is implicit
in the paradigm of the scientific enterprise, and is accepted because it gives the
scientists hope for solving problems within the field. In the areas of science in which
work is actively progressing the first-order philosophy of the scientists is vital to
that progress and to the eventual acceptance or rejection of scientific theories. But
once principles in science, or in second-order philosophy, mathematics, or history,
are established by a consensus of the practitioners in the field, they have a truth that
is independent of the metaphysics or moral philosophy that gave direction to their
development.
As an example, we can consider the overthrow of Newtonian physics and the
acceptance of relativistic physics. Newton’s laws of motion seemed to many people
to imply a particular metaphysics, but that metaphysics was really a result of the
ideas people had developed from common experience along with what they had
learned by using the laws of motion in practice. The laws themselves are merely a
formal mathematical system along with a set of operational definitions that was, and
still is, applicable to the analysis of many phenomena. When Newtonian physics no
longer seemed to work for some phenomena for which it was thought it should
work, and thus the metaphysics that people had associated with it no longer seemed
to give a valid picture of reality, then people had to examine the metaphysical
principles they had assumed to be correct. Eventually, Albert Einstein was able to
establish a new set of principles upon which to base a theory, and by doing this was
able to construct the theory of relativity. First-order philosophy was vital to the

development of both Newton’s laws of motion and Einstein’s theory of relativity, but
just as Newton’s laws of motion do not by themselves imply a metaphysics (and thus
can still be applicable to many phenomena even though the metaphysics thought to
underlie them has been found to be wrong), the theory of relativity also does not by
itself imply a metaphysics. It too is simply a formal mathematical system with a set
of operational definitions. The metaphysics is in the mind of the scientists who use
the theory, and results from the common experience they share with all men along
with the special experience they have gained in using the theory in their work. If in
the future the theory of relativity should no longer work for important problems, the
metaphysics that is implicit in the minds of the scientists who use relativity will have
to be examined and perhaps altered to accommodate a new view of reality. The
essential independence of scientific theories from metaphysical assertions is an
important reason that science can advance so readily. It is also an important reason
that a scientific field can achieve a firm consensus of opinion.
Since scientific theories do not imply a first-order philosophy, the truth of
scientific principles cannot be accepted or rejected by philosophy. They are accepted
or rejected by science. Philosophers can aid scientists when there is controversy in a
field by developing insight into the assumptions implicit in the minds of the
scientists, but the truth or falseness of scientific theories are ultimately decided by
the scientists themselves. Those outside a scientific field cannot accept or reject
scientific theories using first-order philosophy, they can only evaluate these theories
by examining the field as a scientific enterprise, which requires determining the
degree of consensus within the field and the firmness of the paradigm that the field
accepts. If there is a strong consensus and a firm paradigm, the theories of the field
need to be accepted as true and it is not the business of philosophy to argue against
them. It is not the business of philosophy to accept or reject well-established
theories.
To better understand what we must do in analyzing a field as a scientific
enterprise, I want to discuss a point that Thomas S. Kuhn makes in The Structure of
Scientific Revolutions (1970). Kuhn observes that all sciences appear to have a
period of time during which no universal paradigm exists but instead a number of
competing schools and sub-schools that adhere to incompatible viewpoints compete
for dominance in the field. Kuhn calls this a “pre-paradigm” period. During this
period none of the viewpoints is convincing enough to attract all the members of the
specialty, and progress is slow because a great deal of energy is expended arguing
fundamentals rather than concentrating on solving specific puzzles. Significant
contributions may be made to the concepts, phenomena, and techniques used to
study the specialty, but it is only when one viewpoint attains ascendency over all the
others that the specialty starts to take on the character of normal science and begins

to progress rapidly. The science then becomes increasingly reductionist, which

means that the properties of complex systems are analyzed in terms of the
properties of their component parts. Some fields, such as mathematics and astron-
omy, developed paradigms in prehistory, while others developed them later. The
study of motion received its first paradigm with Aristotle, statics with Archimedes,
the study of heat with Black, and physical optics with Newton. Others, like
biochemistry, formed out of specialties that were already mature. Currently, we still
have specialties that are in a pre-paradigm stage, most notably in the social sciences,
where there are competing schools of thought in most fields of study. Among the
social sciences, only economics and some specialties like physical anthropology
appear to be in a stage where they can be considered to have firm paradigms. A
science apparently reaches a firm consensus on theories and methodologies only
after a long struggle.
With this observation in mind, we can see that philosophical debate as to the
validity of some of the different schools of thought in the social sciences is
appropriate if they have not established a firm paradigm. But it would be quite
absurd for a philosopher to present a philosophical argument to, say, prove that the
second law of thermodynamics is incorrect. The second law is so firmly established
within the scientific community that any attempt to refute it on philosophical
grounds is ridiculous. One would in effect be arguing that a perpetual motion
machine could be built, which people with common sense understand is absurd.
Once controversies have been settled and there is a firm consensus among the
researchers in a scientific field, the theories that the scientists accept must be
considered correct on authority. This may require evaluating the competency of the
scientists practicing the field, the degree of consensus within the field, the length of
time that a consensus has dominated the field, and other aspects of the field as a
scientific enterprise, but for a person who is not an expert in a field to attack
scientific theories that have been universally accepted by competent scientists is
foolish. The acceptance or rejection of theories is the business of the scientists.
If scientific theories do not imply first-order philosophy, and first-order
philosophy cannot be used to reject established scientific theories, then how do
established scientific laws affect first-order philosophy? Since first-order philosophy
uses common experience it can develop knowledge that cannot be developed by
science, but it must not present theories that conflict with established scientific
laws. For example, the second law of thermodynamics is a well-established law of
physics. The metaphysical doctrine of dialectical materialism, which underlies
Marxist sociology, is inconsistent with the second law. Therefore, dialectical
materialism cannot be correct and must be rejected. Science aids our interpretation
of common experience by limiting our options as to which metaphysical theories we
can adopt. On the other hand, science cannot by itself establish any metaphysical

theory. That can only be done by an appeal to common experience.

An understanding of these important points can help illuminate two recent
debates: the relation of science to the metaphysical doctrine of materialism, and the
validity of the newly established science of sociobiology.
Materialism is the metaphysical doctrine that everything that exists is material,
and nothing is immaterial. Thus, materialism asserts that things such as the intellect
or will that are usually understood as immaterial do not exist as immaterial entities
but instead are the result of physical processes, just as everything that occurs in the
world is the result of physical processes. In order to be consistent, those who accept
materialism must deny the existence of God or free will, and accept the view that the
universe, including the human mind, is just one large mechanism without any
ultimate purpose to its existence.
Materialism has been commonly associated with science, and in particular with
advances in science. When Newtonian physics overthrew the medieval conception of
the universe, it was commonly interpreted as proving that the universe is simply a
large mechanism and not the large organism it had been envisaged to be by
medieval thought. Thomas Hobbes and other contemporaries of John Locke, the
philosopher who introduced the error of regarding ideas as the objects of our
thought, were materialists, and this metaphysical doctrine deeply influenced their
thought. Even today, each new advance in science seems to many people to imply
materialism, particularly when it affects our conception of ourselves.
However, when we examine logic and the philosophy of science we find that it
absolutely refutes materialism. The reductio ad absurdum argument that the
analytic philosophers have made by attempting to reduce mathematics to logic does
this because it shows beyond any doubt that our minds do not work like a
mechanism, and therefore that the actions of the mind cannot be the result solely of
physical processes. Moreover, the history of science corroborates this because the
establishment of scientific principles is inexplicable unless we introduce the concept
of purposeful choice in our judgements of what is or is not the truth. Purposeful
choice necessarily implies a will that is immaterial. Thus, the philosophy and history
of science refutes materialism, and since scientific theories do not of themselves
imply any metaphysical doctrine, there is no conceivable advance in science that
could possibly establish materialism. That the advance of science seems to do so is
purely an illusion.
This understanding of the nature of philosophy and science helps illuminate
the recent debates over the new field of sociobiology. Sociobiology is the study of
both human and nonhuman societies using the theories of modern biology. I will
discuss sociobiology in greater detail later in this book. At this time I want to give a
general discussion of the debates over sociobiology.
Most attacks of sociobiology take one of two approaches. The first is to show

that the theories of sociobiology conflict with a metaphysical doctrine that the
person making the attack believes to be true. The second is to assume that socio-
biology asserts some particular metaphysical doctrine, such as materialism, and
then to argue against that metaphysical doctrine. The error in the first approach is to
use a metaphysical doctrine to argue against a scientific theory. The error in the
second approach is to assume that a scientific theory implies a metaphysical
doctrine.
The only correct way for someone outside of the field to attack or defend the
theories of sociobiology is to examine sociobiology as a scientific enterprise, and to
ask whether the researchers in the field have a firm paradigm and have reached a
consensus on the theories in question. Since sociobiology in part purports to
provide a general theory for understanding human society, it is also relevant to ask
how the consensus within sociobiology compares to that achieved by other schools
of thought that purport to do the same thing. To do this thoroughly requires some
work, of course, but it is the only correct way to attack or defend the theories of
sociobiology. I think any reasonable analysis would show that the basic theories of
sociobiology are beyond question. Sociobiology was formed out of other sciences
that have well-established paradigms, and its application to nonhumans is not
questioned even by most of those who deny its application to humans. The logical
consistency of sociobiology with the rest of the natural sciences, and the compara-
tive degree of consensus within the field compared to that within other schools of
thought in the social sciences, is compelling evidence of its validity. When I discuss
the theories of sociobiology in detail later in this book, I will show that they are also
consistent with our common sense.
Since any reasonable analysis of sociobiology as a scientific enterprise will
show that the members of this field are competent professionals with a firm
paradigm and a consensus on many important theories, it remains for philosophy
only to examine areas of controversy, to develop a deeper understanding of the
implications of sociobiology, and to reconcile first-order philosophy with its
theories. In doing this philosophy should also help prevent us from using these
theories to make unwarranted conclusions. For example, the original presentation of
sociobiology by Edward O. Wilson in Sociobiology: The New Synthesis (1975) has a
decidedly materialistic and deterministic bias, and in his later book On Human
Nature (1978), Wilson explicitly acknowledges his belief in “scientific materialism”
and asserts that the successes of sociobiology further support this view of reality. In
this he is wrong, and it is certainly legitimate to attack these views on philosophical
grounds. However, such an attack does nothing to undermine the theories he
presents as science, and in general any refutation of the entire field of sociobiology
on philosophical grounds is inherently invalid. The field is already established as a
science.

Later in this book I will discuss some of the central ideas of science and will at
that time discuss in greater detail exactly what science does and doesn’t tell us about
the world. But at this time I want to clarify what I meant earlier when I said that
science does not imply a metaphysics. Some people may object to this assertion by
pointing out that science tells us that atoms, viruses, black holes, and other things
that we cannot directly perceive in everyday life exist. Am I denying that such things
exist? No, I am not denying that they exist, but I am saying that we understand them
in terms of a metaphysics that is founded on common experience. In other words,
science presents us with theories and we project our commonsense metaphysics
onto these theories in order to understand them. This results in metaphysical
constructions such as atoms, viruses, and black holes, but the theories of science do
not require any one unique interpretation of these entities.
To provide an example that should be easy for the reader to understand, let us
consider the concept of a molecule. The reader has probably learned in school about
gas molecules and organic molecules. He has learned that almost everything is made
up of molecules. But how does he actually picture them? He of course has never
actually seen a molecule, he has only accepted that they exist. If he is a scientist he
may have performed an experiment from which he can infer the existence of
molecules, but he has never directly apprehended them. Therefore, the picture he
has of molecules may be quite different from the picture someone else has. He may
think of drawings of molecules in textbooks, or of ball-and-spring models of large
molecules; if he has training in quantum mechanics he may have a much more
refined picture of molecules. But regardless of how he thinks of molecules, the
picture he has of them is constructed out of entities that he directly apprehends in
his daily life.
To simplify this discussion I will use the following terms: “macroscopic” things
are things that are of the size we directly apprehend in our lives, such as people,
automobiles, erasers, furniture, houses, and cockroaches; “microscopic” things are
things that are much smaller than what we directly apprehend, such as atoms,
viruses, electrons, and bacteria; “megascopic” things are things that are much larger
than what we directly apprehend, such as continents, galaxies, and black holes. Our
metaphysical concepts are based on the macroscopic things that we apprehend in
our daily lives because metaphysics is based on common experience. In understand-
ing the entities that science tells us exist in the microscopic or megascopic worlds,
we project these metaphysical concepts onto the theories of science. Since we must
make our first-order philosophy consistent with the theories of science we may
modify our metaphysics in the process, but we construct our pictures of microscopic
and megascopic entities out of the macroscopic entities we apprehend in our
commonsense world.
The way a trained scientist pictures entities such as molecules, electrons, and

black holes is not different in kind from how the reader or anybody else pictures
such entities. Although the scientist’s picture may be more sophisticated than a
layman’s, he still uses the entities he apprehends in the macroscopic world to
construct this picture. Furthermore, the observations he makes are made in the
macroscopic world. The organic chemist may think in terms of molecules and
chemical reactions, but what he actually handles is the goo that is produced in his
beaker; the physicist may use the theories of quantum mechanics to calculate the
effect of passing light through a grating, but what he actually measures is the initial
configuration of light and grating and the resultant spectrum; the astronomer may
investigate the far reaches of the universe and develop theories about galaxies and
other entities much larger than himself, but what he actually apprehends directly
are the photographs and other data he collects in his observatory. It is from the
macroscopic entities that he apprehends through the special experience of investi-
gation, as well as those that he apprehends through the common experience he
shares with all people, that he constructs his picture of the microscopic and mega-
scopic entities that science says must exist.
It is critical to a proper understanding of the implications of science to
recognize that the reality of such microscopic and megascopic entities as atoms,
viruses, and black holes is distinct from the reality of the macroscopic entities the
scientist actually apprehends in his work and that all of us apprehend in our daily
lives. We must recognize that macroscopic entities have a greater reality than
microscopic and megascopic entities. Mortimer J. Adler discusses this important
point in Chapter 10 of Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985). In this chapter he
criticizes what he calls the “fallacy of reductionism,” which is attributing greater
reality to the component parts of a body than to the body itself. For example, we may
see a table before us, but a scientist might declare that it is in fact made up of a
multitude of atoms with a great deal of empty space between the elementary
particles of electrons, protons, and neutrons. Some scientists and contemporary
philosophers have regarded these constituent parts as having more reality than the
composite bodies that these elementary components constitute. However, such a
view presents us with problems. For example, if atoms and molecules are more real
than the composite bodies made up of atoms and molecules, then since a man would
be just a collection of atoms and molecules and these atoms and molecules may
change with time, it would appear that we cannot attribute identity to this individual
from one time to the next. This leads us to a moral dilemma: if we cannot attribute
identity to an individual then it is difficult to assign moral right or wrong to our
actions with respect to the person or his actions with respect to us. Other similar
problems develop from this error of assigning a greater reality to the microscopic
components of macroscopic bodies than to their whole. Adler correctly says that we
must assign the greatest reality to the things we directly apprehend in the
macroscopic world and lesser modes of reality to their constituent parts. Thus, the

table is more real than the atoms of which it is composed, and a man is more real
than the atoms of which he is composed. Only by doing this can we retain the
understanding of the world that common sense tells us is true.
We make a similar mistake when we assign a similar or greater reality to
megascopic entities than to the macroscopic entities of which they are composed.
For example, we might attribute a greater reality to large groups such as
organizations and societies than to the individuals that make up these groups. We
can call the mistake of attributing a similar or greater degree of reality to groups
than to individuals the “fallacy of holism” in the social sciences, where “society” is
conceived of as more real than the individuals that make up the society, where “big
business” is something more real than the men and women who make up the
corporations, and where “government” is seen as more real than the people who
carry out the tasks of government. Of course, concepts such as “society,” “big
business,” and “government” are useful concepts, but those who indiscriminately
condemn society, big business, or the government as monolithic evils, or praise them
as monolithic goods, are making this “fallacy of holism.” Similarly, anyone who treats
other groups, such as the upper class, lower class, men, women, or racial groups as
monolithic entities with a coordinated purpose is making a similar error. To
conceive of society as resulting from, say, the upper class oppressing the lower class,
or men oppressing women, is a distortion of reality. Keeping clearly in mind that the
individuals and things we apprehend in the macroscopic world we inhabit in our
daily lives have a greater reality than do groups of these individuals and things
would do a great deal towards clearing up many of the misconceptions in the social
sciences.
As I noted before, what is most real to a scientist are the things that he
apprehends in the macroscopic world: the goo in the organic chemist’s beaker; the
light source, diffraction grating, and spectrum in the physicist’s laboratory; the
photographs and other data of the astronomer. The scientist projects his under-
standing of the macroscopic world onto the interpretations of microscopic and
megascopic entities that the theories of science seem to require. For example, the
physicist will use quantum mechanics to correlate the configuration of the light
source and diffraction grating with the resultant spectrum, but in learning to use
quantum mechanics he must often think of entities such as atoms, electrons,
protons, wave packets, and so on. Although strictly speaking quantum mechanics is
simply a formal mathematical system along with operational definitions that allow
the scientist to make these correlations, he will not be able to understand quantum
mechanics unless he has some metaphysical ideas about the nature of reality for the
microscopic entities that quantum mechanics appears to require in order to be
interpreted. However, it is easy for him to make errors when he develops these
ideas. As an example, we can consider two common but incorrect interpretations of

the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

The Heisenberg uncertainty principle applies to our “observations” of micro-
scopic particles such as electrons, protons, and neutrons. It is usually stated in one of
two ways. One way is to say that we cannot measure the position and momentum of
a microscopic particle exactly but only within a certain range. More precisely, if ∆x is
the uncertainty in the position of the particle and ∆p is the uncertainty in its
momentum, then ∆x ´ ∆p is greater than or equal to h/2π, where h is a physical
constant known as Planck’s constant. The other way the uncertainty principle is
usually stated is to say that our measurement of the position and momentum of the
particle changes its position and momentum, and that if ∆x is the change in the
position and ∆p is the change in the momentum, then ∆x ´ ∆p is greater than or
equal to h/2π. But neither of these statements is exactly correct. Strictly speaking, it
is not true that our measurements of the position and momentum of a microscopic
particle are uncertain, or that our measurements cause the position and momentum
to change; rather, what is true is that position and momentum are not concepts that
are applicable to interpreting microscopic phenomena. It is only when we attempt to
interpret microscopic phenomena by using concepts that are only appropriate for
macroscopic phenomena that we are led to these interpretations of the Heisenberg
uncertainty principle.
Now, such interpretations may be necessary for the scientist if he is to
understand and use quantum mechanics, but they are not necessarily a correct
interpretation of reality. As Frank points out in Philosophy of Science, there are an
infinite number of metaphysical interpretations of quantum mechanics that would
be consistent with its theories, and these theories don’t give us any way to distin-
guish between these interpretations. The theories of quantum mechanics, and the
experimental observations that support these theories, simply do not imply a
metaphysics. To avoid possible misinterpretations we have to recognize that the
theories of quantum mechanics are best understood as a formal mathematical
system with a set of operational definitions that allows us to do such things as
correlate the configuration of a light source and diffraction grating with the
resultant spectrum. The metaphysical entities that we use to understand quantum
mechanics are not given to us by quantum mechanics but rather are constructed by
us out of the metaphysical entities that we use to understand the macroscopic
world. The former are less real than the latter.
As an example of how misinterpretations of microscopic and megascopic
phenomena can mislead us, we can see that a misunderstanding of the Heisenberg
uncertainty principle leads Adler to make an error in the first section of Chapter 4 of
Ten Philosophical Mistakes. In this section he is discussing how our knowing
something affects the thing we know. He states that our knowing something in no

way affects or alters the thing we know except in one case, and that is when we use
quantum mechanics: when we study microscopic phenomena described by quantum
mechanics our knowing something does alter the thing that we know. This is
incorrect. The measurements of phenomena described by quantum mechanics are
not different in kind from the measurements of other phenomena. We do not alter
the “position” and “momentum” of a microscopic particle when we measure them,
because strictly speaking “position” and “momentum” are concepts that are inappli-
cable to microscopic particles. It is incorrect to suppose that quantum mechanics, or
any scientific theory, can provide exceptions to the theories of knowledge we
develop by an appeal to common experience. The theories of quantum mechanics
result from special experience, and the laws of science do not of themselves imply
any metaphysical or other philosophical theories.
We can avoid such misinterpretations by keeping three points clear. First,
metaphysics is a part of first-order philosophy, and because of this its theories and
conclusions are verified by appeal to common experience and not special experi-
ence. Second, although we need to make our metaphysics consistent with the
theories of science, the theories of science do not of themselves imply a metaphysics,
but instead we use metaphysics to understand the theories of science. And third, the
entities we apprehend in the macroscopic world of common sense have a greater
reality than the entities of the microscopic and megascopic worlds described by
science.
Once we understand these points clearly, then the reason “scientific
materialism” is a false metaphysical doctrine becomes evident. “Scientific material-
ism” bases its position on the investigative results of special experience rather than
the non-investigative understanding of common experience; it projects metaphysical
concepts used to understand the microscopic and megascopic worlds described by
science onto the macroscopic world of common sense; and it assigns greater reality
to the entities of the microscopic or megascopic world than to the entities of the
macroscopic world. When “scientific materialism” is used to interpret sociobiology it
makes us think that we are just a packaging for genes rather than human beings.
This is a serious error, one that undermines any reconciliation of science with the
humanities, and of science with common sense.
Chapter VII
The Equivalence of Causal and Purposeful

Thought
In Chapter III, I explained that the underlying difficulty in modern intellectual
thought is a false separation of mind and body, and in Chapter IV, I explained that the
error of considering our ideas as the objects of our thought, rather than that by
which we apprehend objects that have existence outside of ourselves, has prevented
modern philosophers from successfully correcting this false separation. The separa-
tion of mind and body is a metaphysical concept, while the concept that our ideas
are the objects of our thought is an epistemological concept. Both of these concepts
are errors, but the latter is the more fundamental error. Most modern philosophers
have tended to believe that accepting the metaphysical concept of dualism, the
concept that the world is ultimately composed of the two separate entities of mind
(or spirit) and body (or matter), will lead to problems. To avoid these problems they
have instead tended to accept the metaphysical concept of monism, the concept that
the world is ultimately composed of only one separate entity. The philosophers who
tend to accept monism tend to accept either the metaphysical concept of material-
ism, which is the concept that the ultimate entity is matter, or the metaphysical
concept of idealism, the concept that the ultimate entity is spirit. I discussed the
concept of materialism in the last chapter. Materialism has been most closely
associated with science and those philosophers, such as the analytic and linguistic
philosophers, who embrace science as the source of ultimate truth. The concept of
idealism has been most closely associated with the humanities and those
philosophers, such as the continental philosophers, who believe that man can only
find the truth by understanding his own need to find meaning and purpose in life.
The epistemological beliefs about cause and purpose go together with the
metaphysical beliefs about matter and spirit. Philosophers tend either to think
principally in terms of cause and adopt the ideas of materialism, or to think
principally in terms of purpose and adopt the ideas of idealism. The former is the
dominant trend in scientific thought, while the latter is the dominant trend in
humanistic thought. Neither approach is correct, and neither really solves the false
74
The Equivalence of Causal and Purposeful Thought 75
separation between mind and body. The only correct way to solve the problem is to
understand that our ideas are that by which we apprehend things that have
existence outside of ourselves. In this chapter I will show rigorously how doing this
leads to the understanding that our thinking in terms of cause is equivalent to our
thinking in terms of purpose when we use common sense in our daily lives. By
building a philosophy in which causal and purposeful thought are equivalent, we can
extend our commonsense thought to complex problems. This is essentially what we
do in our scientific thought and is one of the reasons for the great success of modern
science.
In the last paragraph I used expressions like “tend to believe” and “tend to
accept” frequently. The reason I qualified my statements in this way is because most
philosophers have not embraced one extreme or the other, but instead have tried to
find a middle ground. For this reason many philosophers dislike such labels as
“monism” or “dualism,” which they correctly believe gives a misleading impression
of their thought. Indeed, what virtually all modern philosophies have in common is a
mixture of dualistic and monistic ideas, which in turn stems from the mixture of
dualistic and monistic ideas in the philosophy of Immanuel Kant. As I have ex-
plained, Kant recognized that the dualistic separation of mind was the source of the
problems in philosophy, and he attempted to develop a philosophy that eliminates
this separation but avoids the extreme monism that was inherent in most of the
philosophy of his age. He succeeds in developing a balance between extreme
dualism and extreme monism, but he does so at the expense of simplicity and clarity.
His solution is not sustainable, and later philosophers who have used Kant’s ideas as
a place to start have been led almost inexorably towards one or the other of the
extreme views of monism—materialism or idealism. Extreme dualism and extreme
monism are in a sense very similar, since they are both based on the mistake of
considering our ideas as the objects of our thought.
The philosophy I am developing in this book also balances dualistic and
monistic ideas. It is dualistic in that it asserts that the world is inexplicable unless
we recognize that there are two distinct types of entities in our world—mind or
spirit on the one hand, and body or matter on the other. But it is monistic in that it
asserts that mind and body are not separate entities, but instead that they together
form a whole. All that is necessary to achieve a proper synthesis of these ideas is to
recognize that the objects of our thought have existence outside of ourselves, and
that our apprehension of them initially depends on our apprehension of bodies—
that is, real existing material entities—through sense-experience. This is a simple
idea, and one that appeals to common sense. If this idea is accepted, then the
problems that modern philosophers have gone to enormous lengths to solve are
avoided.
In this chapter I will be discussing how we think. I first need to explain an

important distinction that Mortimer J. Adler discusses in Ten Philosophical Mistakes

(1985). The human mind has two quite distinct cognitive powers, which follows
from the nature of the objects that we apprehend with the mind. The objects we
apprehend are either sensible, intelligible, or both. Objects that are sensible are
those we apprehend by sense-perception, and also the sensible particulars we
remember or imagine. For example, a table in our living room is a sensible object we
can perceive, remember, or imagine. Objects that are purely intelligible are those we
cannot apprehend by the senses, such as the objects of mathematical thought,
metaphysical objects such as spiritual beings, and objects of thought such as liberty,
justice, beauty, truth, and knowledge. Since there are two distinct types of objects it
follows that there are two distinct cognitive powers that apprehend them—sense
and intellect. Sense includes the powers of perceiving, remembering, and imagining,
the results of which we call sense-experience, while the powers of the intellect
include understanding, judging, and reasoning, which together we call thought. The
two facilities are separate but interact—the intellect depends for all its initial
apprehensions upon sense-experience, and moreover, while some objects of thought
are purely intelligible, our sense-experience provides us with objects that are
usually both sensible and intelligible. For example, when we perceive a particular
object—say, a table in our living room—we not only perceive it as a particular
individual table, but we also understand that it is an object that belongs to classes of
objects we call tables, furniture, wood products, and so on. In this view, our
perceptions, memories, and images are not “ideas,” but rather the term “idea” is only
appropriate for the concepts by which we understand intelligible objects, these
concepts being the product of our intellect.
It is also important to recognize that the intellect, as I am using the term here,
is immaterial. The clarity of thought that comes from recognizing that there are two
distinct types of entities in the world—mind and body—is only possible if the
ultimate constituents of the mind—intellect, will, and consciousness—are recog-
nized to be immaterial. Adler discusses the immateriality of the intellect in Ten
Philosophical Mistakes, and I will discuss it in more detail later in this book.
Now, let us return to the general discussion I gave in Chapter IV about
commonsense thinking. At that time I made the point that in our commonsense
thought we do not consider thinking about means as separate from thinking about
ends, but rather that we think in both ways simultaneously. If we adopt the view of
Adler that our concepts (or “ideas”) are that by which we apprehend intelligible
objects, then the real things that form the objects we apprehend by our concepts of
purpose must be the same as the real things that form the objects that we
apprehend by our concepts of cause. For example, the concept of what we want to
eat for lunch must have as part of its object some real things that are also part of the
object of our concept of what are suitable lunch foods. The objects are somewhat
different for each of the two concepts, but there are real things that are part of both

of these objects. Now, at any instant we have one particular concept of purpose
among other concepts we may have, and that concept is our decision about what we
ought to do at that instant. What is the object of that thought? I think it is evident
that the object of our decision about what we ought to do is, in some sense, the total
of all our sense-experience. That is, what we decide to do at any given moment is the
result of all that we have experienced.
To illustrate this, let us consider what a young child does when he is hungry. If
he is old enough to walk around he may learn that reaching for things on the tops of
counters and appliances is a good way to get food. So when he is hungry he will
reach for things on the tops of counters and appliances. But let us imagine that one
day he reaches for something on top of a hot stove. He gets burned. The next time he
is hungry he will think twice about reaching for things on top of the stove. All the
sense-experience he has had will affect his decisions about what to do. If we
consider examples such as this, I think that it will appear reasonable to suppose that
the object of our decision about what we ought to do at a given instant is, in some
sense, the total of all our sense-experience.
Likewise, at any instant we have one particular concept of cause among other
concepts we may have, and that concept is our decision about what the
instantaneous effect of our action will be. What is the object of that thought? I think
it is evident that the object of our decision about what the instantaneous effect of
our action will be is, in some sense, the total of all sense-experience. That is, what we
decide will happen instantaneously after our action is the result of all that we have
experienced.
I can use the same example of a child learning what to do when he is hungry to
illustrate this. He first learns that reaching for things on the tops of counters and
appliances will often result in finding food, but after he has been burned once he will
anticipate that reaching for things on the top of the stove is potentially dangerous.
All the sense-experience he has had will effect his decisions about what will happen
instantaneously after he does something. If we consider examples such as this, I
think that it will appear reasonable to suppose that the object of our decision about
what the instantaneous effect of our action will be at a given instant is, in some
sense, the total of all our sense-experience.
At this point, I believe one more thing is obvious: the sense in which the object
of each of these two decisions is the total of all our sense-experience is exactly the
same; that is, the object of both of these concepts is exactly the same object, and thus
these concepts are exactly the same concepts.
This is an important point. What I am saying is that our thinking about reality
in terms of purpose and our thinking about reality in terms of cause is exactly
equivalent at the instant of action. There is no distinction at all between the two
types of thought. Our instantaneous thoughts of cause and purpose are equivalent.

I think the argument I have given for the truth of this assertion will appear
reasonable to most people. All philosophical arguments eventually reduce to the
reasonableness of one assertion as opposed to its alternative, and I believe that this
assertion is more reasonable than its alternative—that these concepts are different.
Moreover, the ideas that derive from this assertion have a reasonableness and
elegance that further argues for its truth, as will be become evident as this
discussion progresses. For these reasons, it will be accepted as a basic premise of the
moral philosophy developed in this book that our decision about what the
instantaneous effect of our action will be is equivalent to our decision about what
the instantaneous effect of our action will be—in other words, that our thinking in
terms of cause and our thinking in terms of purpose are equivalent at the instant of
action.
As I said earlier, the relation of our thinking about means to our thinking about
ends becomes clearer when we think about actions that have immediate conse-
quences. What I am saying here is that as we narrow our focus to an exact instant
and its instantaneous effect, our thinking about means and ends becomes exactly
simultaneous—as we drink water from a glass we at the same time assume that this
will quench our thirst. Adler’s distinction that our concepts are that by which we
apprehend objects having existence outside of ourselves leads naturally to this
understanding. However, if we consider our ideas as the object of our thought, then
there is no reason to suppose that our decision about what we ought to do at a given
instant is the same as our decision about what the effect of our action will be. Since
most modern philosophers have incorrectly held that our ideas are the objects of
our thought, they have been led to the opposite conclusion that these two concepts
are quite different.
To make this assertion about the equivalence of causal and purposeful thought
at the instant of action clearer, let’s again return to the instant at which we do
something. These two concepts—our decision about what we ought to do, and our
decision about what the instantaneous effect of that action will be—may be more or
less vivid to us. When we are sleeping, for instance, these concepts are virtually non-
existent because we are unconscious. During the day much of what we do doesn’t
require a great deal of thought and these two concepts are not very vivid. However,
at times of stress these concepts become much more vivid, and at times of severe
emotional crisis they can become quite vivid as our minds search through all that we
have experienced to find some answer to whatever dilemma is facing us. At such
times small bits of remembered sense-experience can come forward to the
consciousness. Indeed, when people are faced with imminent death they often
report that their entire lives flash before them in an instant—it is as if the mind, in
its realization of imminent peril, is trying desperately to apprehend this object (the
total of all sense-experience) as vividly as possible in an attempt to determine what

can be done to prevent the peril.

It immediately follows from this observation that there is an intimate
connection between descriptive statements, which are decisions about what does or
does not exist, and normative judgements, which are decisions about what one
ought or ought not to do. However, this is one thing that contemporary philosophers
have been led to misunderstand. Instead of recognizing that descriptive statements
and normative judgements are inextricably linked, they have instead asserted that
the two are completely separate. Since almost all of modern philosophy rests on the
incorrect assumption that ideas are the object of our thought, almost all modern
philosophers agree that saying what exists does not imply anything about what one
ought to do—that “is” does not imply “ought.” In Chapter 5 of Ten Philosophical
Mistakes, Adler discusses moral values and implicitly recognizes that normative
judgements are inextricably linked with descriptive statements. This is the correct
understanding, and it is a mistake to believe that descriptive statements and norma-
tive judgements are completely separable.
At this point I have reached a critical stage in the development of moral philos-
ophy. I have shown that causal thought and purposeful thought are closely linked in
our commonsense thought and in our scientific thought, and at any given moment
our concepts of instantaneous cause and purpose are exactly the same. If we want
our intellectual thought to be continuous with and consistent with our common-
sense thought and our scientific thought, then it follows that we should construct it
such that our concepts of cause and purpose are in all cases equivalent. In other
words, we should construct our intellectual thought such that reality can be viewed
either in terms of cause or in terms of purpose with no contradiction and no
assumption that one or the other is a more valid way to view reality. Once this is
done we will have a natural reconciliation of our scientific and humanistic thought. I
have shown that such a construction arises naturally when we consider our ideas as
that by which we apprehend objects that have existence outside of ourselves. I will
now develop this concept in its greatest generality. The concepts I am developing are
at this point in their most abstract form; as this book progresses I will apply them
more and more to concrete situations that will illustrate how these abstract
concepts can be used.
In Chapter I, I pointed out that the two branches of first-order philosophy—
metaphysics and moral philosophy—are autonomous branches of knowledge, and
that they have questions that belong to them alone and not to other fields. However,
in the practical decisions we make about how the world works and what we ought to
be doing we also incorporate our knowledge of science, history, mathematics, and
second-order philosophy. Thus, questions about reality in terms of cause are
answered by science, history, mathematics, second-order philosophy, and meta-
physics, while questions about reality in terms of purpose are answered by science,
history, mathematics, second-order philosophy, and moral philosophy. In order to

explicitly recognize that our knowledge of all these fields is used in our decisions
about how the world works and what we ought to be doing, I will use the term
metaphysical science to mean our understanding of reality in terms of cause, and the
term moral science to mean our understanding of reality in terms of purpose. I am
thus using the term “science” in the broader sense that Kuhn uses it to mean any
well-established field of study, and I am qualifying it by “metaphysical” or “moral” to
explicitly recognize that our understanding of science is tempered by the knowledge
we have obtained from experiences that we have in common with all people. When
people think of “science” they usually think of what I am now calling “metaphysical
science,” since scientific thought is usually expressed in terms of cause; indeed,
when I use the term “science” by itself I will usually mean metaphysical science. But
the ideas of science can also be used for specific purposes. The ideas of the physical
sciences are used in engineering and applied science, and the ideas of the social
sciences are used in clinical practice and in the making of social policy. The type of
thinking used in these fields can be extended to our lives in general. When scientific
concepts are combined with the moral philosophy we have obtained from
experiences that we have in common with all people, then we have “moral science.”
These definitions of metaphysical science and moral science will be useful for the
discussion in this chapter.
In Chapter IV, I showed that our causal thought and our purposeful thought is
nearly equivalent in our commonsense thought and our scientific thought, and I
showed earlier in this chapter that they become exactly equivalent for our instan-
taneous thought. If we want our first-order philosophical thought to be consistent
with and an extension of our commonsense thought and our scientific thought, then
we must build our metaphysics and moral philosophy such that the relationship of
the parts of common experience and science to each other and to the whole of
common experience and science when we use moral philosophy to address the
mixed questions that involve both moral philosophy and science is the same as the
relationship of the parts of common experience and science to each other and to the
whole of common experience and science when we use metaphysics to address the
mixed questions that involve both metaphysics and science. This can be stated
succinctly by saying that our moral science must be symmetric to our metaphysical
science, where I have used the term “symmetric” to mean that the relationship of the
parts of common experience and science to each other and to the whole of common
experience and science must be the same in both metaphysical science and moral
science even though metaphysical science and moral science are not exactly the
same thing. This is a specialized use of the term “symmetric,” but it should not cause
any confusion in this discussion.
To clarify what I mean by this, we should note that in science we have a

hierarchy of laws. The laws of physics are considered more general than the laws of
biology in that the laws of physics apply to all material things including biological
organisms, while the laws of biology apply only to biological organisms. Man is
considered the end result of evolution, and the laws that apply uniquely to man are
the least general of all laws in science. This is because the study of man requires
concepts that are only valid for the study of man, while the concepts required to
study lower forms of life are also applicable to the study of man. In saying this I am
simplifying somewhat, since organisms that have evolved along evolutionary paths
that don’t ultimately lead to man do have unique concepts that apply only to them.
Still, if the laws that apply to man are not the only concepts of low generality, there
are certainly a much larger number of concepts of low generality that are used in the
study of man than are used in the study of other organisms. The laws of science as
traditionally stated in terms of cause form a hierarchy with the most general laws of
physics at the top and the least general laws by which we apprehend characteristics
of Homo sapiens at the bottom. This is how we would view science from the point of
view of metaphysics. From the point of view of moral philosophy we would keep the
same structure of the hierarchy, but we would reverse everything. We would place
man and his purpose at the top of the hierarchy and view lower forms of life and all
inanimate objects, as well as the concepts governing their purpose, as of lower order.
When we do this we establish a hierarchy in moral science that reflects the same
relationships of the parts of science to each other and to the whole of science as does
metaphysical science.
As a simple, commonsense application of this principle of symmetry, let us
consider the case of a man who is standing on the shore of a lake and wants to get to
an island in the middle of the lake. When we examine how he would think about this
in terms of purpose, we would have something like this: he wants to get to the
island; to do this he needs to rent a boat, so that means he wants to rent a boat; to
rent a boat he needs to talk to the man in the boatshed, so that means he wants to
talk to the man in the boatshed; to talk to the man in the boatshed he needs to walk
over to the boatshed, so that means he wants to walk over to the boatshed. Having
thought this through more or less consciously, the man walks over to the boatshed,
talks to the man in the boatshed, rents a boat, and travels to the island. If we
examine this in terms of purpose we have a hierarchy: to travel to the island is the
ultimate goal, and intermediate goals are renting a boat, talking to the man in the
shed, and walking to the shed. If we examine this in terms of cause we also have a
hierarchy, but one that is reversed, a mirror image of the previous hierarchy: the
man walks to the shed, talks to the man in the shed, rents a boat, and travels to the
island. Our common sense tells us that the structure of the events ought to be the
same regardless of how we look at it. It would be nonsense to have the man renting
the boat, then walking to the boatshed, then traveling to the island, and then talking
to the man in the boatshed. We see that in our commonsense thought the hierarchy

that exists when we think of events in terms of purpose must be symmetric to the
hierarchy that exists when we think of events in terms of cause. If we want our
philosophy to be commonsense we must apply the same principle to more complex
situations.
As an example of a more complex situation, we have the hierarchy of
perceptible ends that I introduced in Chapter II when I asserted that sexual goods
are more important than economic goods. At that time I defended this by an appeal
to common sense, but this hierarchy also exactly reflects our current understanding
of human behavior. We know from evolutionary theory that our primary motivation
is to replicate our genes, a motivation that is even stronger than our motivation to
survive. Of course, we tend to first become concerned with survival and then later
with reproduction, but in critical times we will risk our own death in an effort to
perpetuate our genes. A mother will risk her life to defend her young, and a man will
risk death to protect his family or to win the love of a desired woman. Although
some people may at first dislike such a reductionist approach to moral values, ulti-
mately I will show that it simply reaffirms the traditional values we have long held
that love, marriage, family, and service to mankind are important and satisfying
things in life. As long as we don’t make the fallacy of assigning a greater reality to
our genes than to our existence as human beings, there is nothing in evolutionary
theory that contradicts our common sense or undermines our humanity.
Given this, the first principle of moral philosophy must be that our moral
understanding of science should be symmetric with respect to our metaphysical
understanding of science. This principle in part means exactly the same thing as
does the first axiom of moral philosophy that Adler states in Ten Philosophical
Mistakes: we ought to desire whatever is really good for us and nothing else. But it
goes beyond this by telling us that what is really good for us in terms of perceptible
ends can be defined by the logical structure of science. Note that the acceptance of
this principle is based on philosophical arguments and not scientific theories.
Science only tells us about perceptible ends and not about imperceptible ends
because science studies only material entities. Imperceptible ends can only be
established by philosophy because they require an understanding of immaterial
entities such as will and consciousness, and these can be understood only by an
appeal to common experience. When we combine the observation that science only
tells us about perceptible ends with the principle I asserted in Chapter II that all our
ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible ends, then it becomes obvious that science
cannot provide us with ultimate ends. Ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible ends,
which can be provided only by philosophy. The relationship in moral science of
moral philosophy to science then becomes clear: moral philosophy is concerned
with providing ultimate ends that are imperceptible ends, while science is con-
cerned with understanding the relationship of perceptible ends. We are thus led to a
clear understanding of the relationship of material values to spiritual values.

This principle of symmetry can be clarified by an example where its application

is obvious. In general, scientists in basic research are engaged in learning more
about the nature of reality while scientists and engineers in applied research use
what has been learned to solve practical problems. Although they share a common
body of theories, measurements, and techniques, the practice of each is quite
different. The difference does not lie in any fundamental disagreement between the
laws and principles of scientific knowledge on the one hand, and the application of
these laws and principles on the other, but rather in that the problems attacked and
the methods used to solve them are different. A scientist doing basic research learns
a specific small area in great detail and attempts to solve the puzzles that the
paradigm of the field suggests are solvable; the engineer or applied scientist instead
needs to know about the various fields that affect whatever technology he is
attempting to develop, and needs to coordinate this information so as to solve the
technical problem he is addressing. The way a scientist in basic research thinks
about problems will thus usually be quite different from the way an applied scientist
or engineer thinks about problems. Despite this difference, however, no one would
deny that there is in principle a direct relationship between the structure of
scientific knowledge and the structure of the problem the engineer or applied
scientist is addressing. It is in this sense that I use the word “symmetric” to mean
that the structure of metaphysical science has in principle a direct one-to-one
transposition to the structure of moral science.
This principle of symmetry between metaphysical science and moral science
immediately leads to an important result. We have found that we cannot establish
scientific principles on the basis of logic alone, that there is irreducibly an element of
choice in what we believe that goes beyond logic and requires some conception of
purpose. This means we have freedom of choice in what we believe. By symmetry,
this means we have freedom of will in what we do. Freedom of choice in what we
believe and freedom of will in what we do are exactly the same thing, there is no
fundamental distinction between the two. As Adler points out in Chapter 6 of Ten
Philosophical Mistakes, all theories of freedom of will rests on three affirmations:
the will is immaterial, the way its acts are caused is different than the way acts are
caused in the range of material phenomena, and above all, the causal indeterminacy
of the will does not reduce free will to a chance event. The determinists reject free
will because they consider it a chance event, which it is not; but the exponents of
free will do not argue for the premises on which free will rests. The argument given
here is, however, an argument for these premises. I am claiming that the nature of
scientific knowledge and the historical development of science necessarily implies
free will. The reductio ad absurdum argument against the belief that the truth or
falseness of all knowledge can be determined by logic that results from the failure of

the analytic philosophers to reduce mathematics and scientific methodology to logic

means that there is no logical procedure that even an omniscient intelligence could
use to predict the occurrence of all subsequent events from the present structure of
the universe. Any such prediction would have to rely on scientific principles that are
not established solely by logic, but are also established by acts of choice based on
motives of purpose. By the principle of symmetry these acts of free choice are
equivalent to acts of free will, and thus our understanding of the nature of scientific
truth and the historical development of science necessarily implies the freedom of
the will.
The affirmation of the freedom of will is a necessary component of any sound
moral philosophy, and unless we accept it any reconciliation of the humanities and
sciences is impossible. The denial of free will is tantamount to affirming the
materialistic doctrine that the world is simply a large mechanism without any
purpose to its existence. As I have shown, determinism and materialism are both
untenable positions, and are not supported by modern science. A correct under-
standing of the philosophy and history of science instead affirms the existence of
free will.
Chapter VIII
Man's Place in the Biosphere

In this chapter and the next I will discuss some of the similarities and differences
between human beings and the other material beings in the world. In this chapter I
will discuss in particular the relationship of man to other living things, and in the
next chapter I will continue this discussion and generalize it to include the
relationship of man to the universe as a whole. I will not be developing a detailed list
of similarities and differences between human beings and other material beings, but
rather I will be discussing fundamental philosophical issues about the nature of
these similarities and differences. The findings of modern science are crucial to a
correct understanding of man’s place in the biosphere and in the universe, so the
questions I am addressing are mixed questions that involve both science and philos-
ophy.
In the previous chapters of this book I have discussed some of the fundamental
principles of moral philosophy, and have also discussed the relationship of scientific
thought to commonsense thought. In the last chapter I showed that in our com-
monsense thought and in our scientific thought, causal thought is equivalent to
purposeful thought in the sense that as we focus on decisions that have more and
more immediate effects, our thinking in terms of cause and our thinking in terms of
purpose becomes more and more equivalent. To reconcile the sciences with
common sense and with the humanities we need to build this equivalency into the
structure of our thought. Only by doing this can we develop a correct understanding
of man’s place in the universe.
The failure of modern philosophers and scientists to recognize the equivalency
of causal and purposeful thought has led not only to the split between the sciences
and the humanities, but also to problems within the sciences themselves. In addition
to creating difficulties that obscure specific scientific issues, these problems have
also made it difficult for scientists to understand exactly how the findings of modern
science should affect our ideas about man’s relationship to the rest of the universe, a
difficulty that many scientists themselves have recognized. As an example, the
French biochemist Jacques Monod, who with André Lwoff and François Jacob was
awarded the Nobel Prize in 1965 for his studies of the replication and transcription
85
Man’s Place in the Biosphere 86
of genetic material, discusses such problems as these in Chance and Necessity: An

Essay on the Natural Philosophy of Modern Biology (1971). Monod writes about the
impact of modern discoveries in molecular biology on our conception of man and his
place in nature. In particular, he argues that the findings of biology completely
repudiate philosophies that he calls “vitalist” and “animist.” The “vitalist”
philosophies assume that there is some radical difference in kind between inanimate
objects and living beings, and because of this that there are laws that operate only in
the biosphere which cannot ultimately be reconciled with the fundamental laws of
physics. The “animist” philosophies assume that there is some ultimate and
universal purpose towards which the universe is heading, and that man is the
ultimate embodiment of this purpose. The vitalist philosophies have been
completely contradicted by modern biology, and now have little influence on
modern thought. The animist philosophies, particularly the powerful philosophy of
Karl Marx, have been more influential. Monod shows that the philosophical doctrine
of dialectical materialism upon which Marxism is predicated is completely
contradicted by the findings of modern science, as are the doctrines of all of the
animist philosophies he discusses. Monod calls for a repudiation of the vitalist and
animist philosophies and an attempt to build a new philosophy on what he terms
the “ethic of knowledge,” which for him is the choosing of the “postulate of
objectivity” as the condition of true knowledge. The “postulate of objectivity” is the
systematic denial that knowledge can be obtained by interpreting phenomena in
terms of final causes or “purpose,” which according to Monod has guided scientific
work for the last three centuries and cannot be denied without denying science
itself. He recognizes a dilemma, however. The animist systems, which avoid any
distinction between knowledge and ethics and instead see them as two aspects of
the same reality, have the ability to inspire men; but modern science, which sepa-
rates knowledge from ethics, does not. Monod sees no way to solve this dilemma
except by establishing the ethic of knowledge as itself a moral choice and the basis of
a moral philosophy.
The dilemma with which Monod is faced is the result of the philosophical
errors I have discussed in this book, and in particular is the result of the error of
assuming that our ideas are the objects of our thought and with it the failure to
recognize the equivalency of causal and purposeful thought. Monod partly recog-
nizes that this is the source of the problem when he says, in the first chapter of
Chance and Necessity, that in order to understand living organisms, we must
describe them and their components in terms of purpose, which contradicts the
postulate of objectivity on which he says science has been built. This is to him a
profound epistemological contradiction, and he says, “The central problem of
biology lies with this very contradiction, which, if it is only apparent, must be
resolved; or else proven to be utterly insoluble, if that should turn out indeed to be

the case.” Although Monod has some understanding of what the problem is, he has
not found a way to resolve this contradiction, and because of this his call for
adopting the “ethic of knowledge” as the basic postulate of moral philosophy does
not quite work: he sees the main features of the problem, but he is unable to find a
real solution to it. He recognizes that modern science has met with unparalleled
success, and that with the unraveling of the genetic code, the secrets of life itself are
being opened to man; that the findings of modern science have repudiated the foun-
dations of most of the systems of values we try to follow and to teach; that the
“postulate of objectivity,” which appears to have guided us in our advancement of
modern science, cannot provide us with a system of values to live by; that indeed
science itself appears to require postulating the “ethic of knowledge” as a
prerequisite to its advancement, and that this is in itself a moral choice; and finally
that somehow from all of this we need to find a new philosophy and a new system of
values to guide our lives. But exactly what this new philosophy should be Monod is
not quite able to say.
The philosophy I am developing in this book is one that resolves the dilemma
that Monod is discussing and in general reconciles our scientific ideas with our
humanistic ideas. Since this philosophy asserts that interpreting reality in terms of
cause is no different than interpreting it in terms of purpose, it would be considered
“animist” by Monod’s definition, but it is an “animist” philosophy that is consistent
with modern science and is built on it. This is one of its fundamental strengths—it
presents no ideas that are contradicted by modern science, but rather presents ideas
that will help modern science resolve its philosophical problems. The recognition of
the equivalency of causal and purposeful thought is not only central to the
reconciliation of the sciences with the humanities, but also central to the resolution
of the philosophical problems in biology and in other of the sciences.
Although the resolution of the epistemological contradiction between causal
and purposeful thought is central to the reconciliation of the sciences with the
humanities, there is another issue that must be resolved before this reconciliation is
possible. That issue is whether or not there is some radical difference in kind
between human beings and other living beings, and because of this difference, there
are laws that operate only for man that cannot ultimately be reconciled with the
laws of physics. Probably no belief is more universally held among scientists than
the conviction that all scientific laws governing physical events in the universe will
ultimately be found to be reconcilable with each other and with the fundamental
laws of physics. Yet the contrary belief that there is a radical difference in kind
between human beings and other living beings is held by a few natural scientists,
some social scientists, and many of those in the humanities. The “humanist” phi-
losophies these people adopt are analogous to the “vitalist” philosophies Monod
discusses: the humanist philosophies maintain that there is a radical difference in

kind between human beings and other material beings, while the vitalist philoso-
phies maintain there is a radical difference in kind between living beings and other
material beings. As Monod points out, the vitalist philosophies have been completely
contradicted by the findings of modern science. Is the same true of the humanist
philosophies? It is clear that unless this issue is resolved to the satisfaction of both
the scientists and the humanists, a reconciliation of the sciences and the humanities
is impossible.
Mortimer J. Adler is one of the most adamant defenders of the view that the
difference between human beings and other living beings is a radical difference in
kind. He defends this position in detail in The Difference of Man and the Difference It
Makes (1967), and gives a briefer explanation of his ideas in Ten Philosophical Mis-
takes (1985). Since Adler gives a clear exposition of this point of view I will use his
work as a basis for this discussion. Despite the clarity with which Adler presents the
issues, he makes crucial mistakes, mistakes which lead him not only to conclude
incorrectly that the difference between human beings and other living beings is a
radical difference in kind, but also to conclude that the consequences of there being
only a superficial difference in kind are far more drastic than they actually are. In
this chapter and the next I will explain the reasons that the difference between
human beings and other living beings is only a superficial difference in kind, and in
doing this I will correct some of the mistakes that Adler makes. I will also explain
why the consequences of there being only a superficial difference in kind are not as
drastic as he supposes. Since the type of arguments that Adler uses are similar to
those used by other philosophers who assert that the difference between human
beings and other living beings is a radical difference in kind, the analysis I give in
this chapter should help resolve the issue to the satisfaction of both scientists and
humanists.
We first need an understanding of what we mean by a difference in kind. A
“difference in kind” contrasts with a “difference in degree.” Two objects differ in kind
if one object possesses some characteristic that is completely absent in the other,
and because of this it is impossible to conceive of a series of objects that are
intermediate between the two. For example, we can compare a triangle with a
square. A triangle has three sides, while a square has four sides. In discussing the
number of sides each of these figures has, we can see that a triangle and a square
clearly differ in kind: the number of sides is distinct between the two types of
figures, and we cannot imagine a series of figures that are intermediate between the
two. We can’t imagine a figure with three and a half sides, for example—that is
clearly a preposterous idea. The difference between a triangle and a square is a
difference in kind. In contrast, two objects differ only in degree if there is no
characteristic that one object possesses that is completely absent in the other, and
because of this it is possible to conceive of a series of objects that are intermediate

between the two. For example, we can compare two equilateral triangles of different
size. An equilateral triangle is a triangle whose three sides are equal in length.
Equilateral triangles of different size thus have the same shape, but differ in the
length of their sides. Both triangles possess the same characteristics, but they differ
in that one triangle has a greater degree of one of these characteristics—the length
of its sides—than the other triangle. Moreover, we can imagine a continuum of
triangles of increasing size between the two triangles; that is, regardless of the size
of two equilateral triangles that differ only in the length of their sides, we can always
imagine a third triangle whose size is intermediate between the two. The difference
between two equilateral triangles of different size is only a difference in degree.
In addition to understanding how a difference in kind compares with a
difference in degree, we also need to understand how a superficial difference in kind
compares with a radical difference in kind. Both a superficial difference in kind and a
radical difference in kind are real differences in kind; that is, objects that differ
either superficially or radically in kind truly differ in kind in that at least one of the
objects possesses a characteristic that is completely absent in the other. However, if
the difference in kind is only superficial, then there is some underlying characteristic
that varies only in degree between the two objects—this underlying characteristic is
then manifested in the superficial difference in kind when the degree of that
characteristic reaches some threshold or critical point. If the difference in kind is
radical, then there is no underlying characteristic that differs only in degree that can
account for the manifested difference in kind. As an example of a superficial
difference in kind, we can consider the three states of matter: solid, liquid, and gas.
There is clearly a difference in kind between these three states, since each of them
possesses characteristics that are not possessed by the others. However, we know
from modern physics that underlying this difference in kind are characteristics that
vary continuously and that the manifested difference in kind is only superficial.
More specifically, we know that a material in the solid, liquid, or gaseous state still
consists of the same molecules and the only underlying difference between the three
states of matter is that the temperature of the material is different in degree. If we
heat a solid material its temperature will rise until at some specific threshold
temperature the material will melt and form a liquid, and if we continue to heat the
material its temperature will continue to rise until at another higher threshold
temperature the material will boil and form a gas. The three states differ in kind, but
the difference in kind is only superficial and not radical. If instead there is no
underlying characteristic that varies only in degree, then the difference in kind
would be radical. It should be apparent that it is intrinsically difficult to prove that a
difference in kind is radical because one can always argue that there is an underlying
characteristic that differs only in degree, but that this characteristic

has not yet been discovered. Thus, I can give no clear examples of a radical
difference in kind. Indeed, the great majority of scientists accept as a basic principle
of scientific research that there are no such radical differences in kind, and that
ultimately all things that exist and all actions that occur can be understood in terms
of principles that are reconcilable with each other and with the fundamental laws of
physics. Another way to say this is to say that most scientists believe that underlying
all physical phenomena is a continuum of states and that there is no basic discon-
tinuity in the universe. *
As Adler points out in The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes,
Western philosophers have maintained one of three positions regarding how man
differs from other living things: (1) man differs only in degree, (2) man differs in
kind, but only superficially, and (3) man differs radically in kind. Adler correctly
shows that the first of these alternatives—that man differs only in degree, and that
perceived differences in kind are only apparent and not the manifestations of some
underlying characteristic that has reached some threshold or critical point—not
only is denied by science, but also is philosophically contradictory and therefore
totally untenable. Scientists and philosophers who maintain that the difference
between man and nonhuman animals is entirely a difference in degree include
mostly scientists and philosophers, such as Thomas Hobbes, who uncritically accept
classical materialism. Adler correctly maintains that the only philosophically tenable
alternatives are that man differs from other living things either superficially or
radically. These alternatives can be stated more exactly as: (1) the differences
between human beings and other living beings include differences in degree and
superficial differences in kind, but do not include radical differences in kind; or (2)
the differences between human beings and other living beings include differences in
degree, superficial differences in kind, and radical differences in kind. These two
alternatives are inconsistent with each other, so they cannot both be true. Moreover,
since the first alternative implies a basic continuity in nature while the second

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
* As it is a basic postulate of quantum mechanics that the only possible values that can result from the
measurement of a physical observable are certain discrete values that are solutions of the basic equations
of quantum mechanics, there appears to be a fundamental discontinuity in matter that becomes im-
portant when interpreting phenomena occurring at the molecular and sub-molecular level. The exact
significance of this discreteness, as well as of the fundamental randomness in nature that quantum
mechanics seems to imply, is the subject of much intense debate among physicists and philosophers of
science. Indeed, the conceptual interpretation of quantum mechanics is a difficult problem in the
philosophy of science, in part because of the difficulty in interpreting quantum mechanics in terms of the
concepts we use to apprehend the macroscopic entities we encounter in everyday life. Debates regarding
the metaphysical implications of the discontinuity in measurements of microscopic states are not rel-
evant to the discussion of continuity in this book, however, because my purpose is to examine the
differences between material entities at a scale of organization much greater than that at which the
discreteness of quantum mechanical measurements is of any significance.

implies a basic discontinuity, the alternatives are not only exclusive but also ex-
haustive. Thus, one of the alternatives must be true and the other must be false. The
issue is then to determine which of the alternatives is more reasonable. Adler
recognizes that most scientists accept the first alternative and deny that there are
radical differences in kind, but he argues that the second alternative is the correct
one.
To clarify this debate, let us imagine how a man of common sense would
classify the things he apprehends in his life. Since he actually apprehends things that
exist in the macroscopic world, he uses the macroscopic properties of things to
classify them. He notes that there are nonliving things and living things—stones,
water, automobiles, credit cards, and lampposts are nonliving, while trees, cats,
cockroaches, people, roses, and dogs are living. Among the nonliving things he notes
that there are crystalline solids, noncrystalline solids, liquids, gases, and so on.
Among the living things there are plants that are stationary and animals that are
mobile; animals that move only on the ground and other animals that can fly; and
animals—human beings, that is—that talk to each other and other animals that do
not. All of these various types of things clearly differ in kind because there are
characteristics unique to some things that are not present in others. Man can talk
while dogs cannot, liquids flow while solids do not, dogs bite while trees do not. The
things we apprehend in the macroscopic world we live in clearly have differences in
kind.
However, the question is whether at the microscopic level there is a basic
continuity. Can all things that we apprehend ultimately be understood in terms of
the properties of fundamental entities such as electrons, protons, neutrons, atoms,
molecules, and so on? Or is there at some point a clear discontinuity that can never
be explained as a variation in degree? The reason that most scientists believe that
ultimately there is a basic continuity in nature is because so far almost all
differences in kind that were thought by some to be radical have been found to be
only superficial. We now know that there is no discontinuity at the microscopic level
between crystalline solids, noncrystalline solids, liquids, and gases. We also know
that there is no discontinuity at the microscopic level between living and nonliving
things—the viruses are clearly at the borderline between living and nonliving.
Furthermore, we know that here is no discontinuity at the microscopic level
between animals and plants—there are unicellular microorganisms that both
photosynthesize light like plants and also move about like animals. Other types of
differences that were once thought to be radical have been found to be only super-
ficial. For example, at one time it was thought that chemistry and physics were very
different fields of study and that there was no direct relationship between the
subject matter of the two fields—chemistry was the science of quality and physics
was the science of quantity. We now know that the difference between the two fields
is not radical but only superficial, as is evidenced by the fields of physical chemistry

and chemical physics. Similarly, the separation between chemistry and biology has
been bridged by biochemistry. The outstanding success that modern science has had
in developing an understanding of superficial differences in kind at the macroscopic
level in terms of variations of degree at the microscopic level has led to the
conviction by most scientists that ultimately all physical processes in the world can
be explicated by laws that are reconcilable with the fundamental laws of physics. Of
course, just because this belief is so universally held does not mean that it is correct,
but it certainly appears to most scientists to be reasonable.
Now, how can we answer the question of whether there is a basic continuity in
nature at the microscopic level? Since this question addresses more the expectation
of that which we will find rather than that which has already been found, this is a
mixed question that needs to be answered by both philosophy and science. In other
words, the belief in a basic continuity in nature is not a theory or law of science, but
rather it is part of the first-order philosophy of scientists that directs their work and
gives them hope for future progress. As noted above, the two alternatives of there
being either a basic continuity or a basic discontinuity are mutually exclusive and
exhaustive—we must choose one or the other. So the question that we must ask is
which of the two alternatives is more reasonable. Let us imagine a trained scientist
who is philosophically naive about the wider implications of his beliefs and is
interested primarily in the advancement of science. Which of the two alternatives
would appear more reasonable to him? In the past it has been found that progress
has been made by assuming that there is no basic discontinuity at the microscopic
level, so this alone is a compelling reason for a scientist to accept this belief.
Moreover, a belief in a basic continuity gives him greater motivation to search for
common principles and greater hope that science will continue to make progress in
the future. It is thus clearly more “dynamic” to believe that there is a basic continuity
in nature than to believe that there is a basic discontinuity—the latter alternative
establishes a limit to what science can achieve that is not established by the first
alternative. If there are one or more basic discontinuities, then there are some
problems that are not susceptible to reduction to fundamental principles. Moreover,
believing that there are one or more basic discontinuities seems to prejudge certain
issues that are not prejudged by accepting the alternative; that is, assuming a basic
discontinuity in nature seems to be accepting a priori a certain result that would not
be accepted a priori by assuming a basic continuity. The principle of continuity thus
appears to be more objective than the principle of discontinuity. From all of these
considerations, it is apparent that from the point of view of a scientist who is
unfamiliar with the philosophical arguments supporting the existence of radical
differences in kind, a belief in a basic continuity in nature is more reasonable than a
belief in a basic discontinuity. To accept the latter alternative a scientist would need
compelling reasons showing the former alternative to be unacceptable.
In The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes Adler tries to show that

there are compelling reasons to believe that there is not a basic continuity in nature.
What he argues in this book is that there are serious implications to accepting the
view that there is only a superficial difference in kind between human beings and
other living beings, and that because of these implications we cannot accept this
view. Adler doesn’t present his argument quite like that, but that seems to be the
main motivation for his conclusions. For instance, he argues that there is no
scientific evidence to prove that animals have conceptual thought, but such an
argument is not really addressing the issue. The question is not what current
empirical evidence proves, but rather which of the two alternatives given above is
more reasonable for guiding research in the future. What he needs to do is to show
that overall the position that there is a radical difference in kind is more reasonable
than the position that there is only a superficial difference in kind. If this is not
shown then we have to accept the view that the difference in kind is superficial
because this is clearly the more “dynamic” of the two alternatives. As is shown by
the philosophy and history of science, this quality of “dynamic” is ultimately the
criterion for truth. In other words, the burden of proof lies with those who maintain
that the difference between human beings and other living beings is a radical
difference in kind.
Adler attempts to show that both philosophical and scientific insights favor a
belief in a radical difference in kind between nonhuman animals and man, but in
doing this he makes a critical mistake that both undermines his argument and leads
him to assume that the consequences of there being only a superficial difference in
kind between nonhuman animals and man are more drastic than they are. He
repeats this mistake in Chapter 2 of Ten Philosophical Mistakes when he discusses
the intellect and the senses. I will explain this mistake and its correction by
discussing what he says in this chapter of Ten Philosophical Mistakes.
Earlier I discussed the distinction that Adler makes between the intellect and
the senses: the senses apprehend feelings, sensations, and sensible objects that can
be perceived, remembered, or imagined, while the intellect apprehends intelligible
objects that may also be sensible. After discussing these distinctions, Adler then
discusses the mistake made by Hobbes, Berkeley, and Hume when they assert that
the mind, in its functioning as a cognitive instrument, is entirely a sensitive faculty
without any trace of intellectuality. He correctly shows that this assumption
inevitably leads us to deny that we have any abstract ideas or concepts in our minds,
a conclusion that is refuted by common sense. The correct assumption that the mind
has two distinct faculties of sense and intellect leads to a natural commonsense
understanding of the presence of abstract ideas. Adler then explains that the failure
of Hobbes and Hume to distinguish between the senses and the intellect lead them
to conclude that man differs from nonhuman animals only in degree, and not in kind.
He goes on to criticize animal behaviorists who interpret their experiments as
showing that animals have concepts as well as percepts, and then declares, “If these

interpretations and attributions were correct, much of what has been said in the
preceding pages would have to be withdrawn.” But this is wrong, we would not need
to interpret the thought of both animals and man as being purely sensible if it turns
out that animals do have concepts; instead, we could interpret the thought of both
animals and man as having intellect as well as sense. Indeed, many of the findings of
the animal behaviorists would be more intelligible if this were done.
This is the mistake that Adler makes—he doesn’t recognize that the immate-
riality of the intellect would not be refuted simply because animals are able to have
concepts and thus have intellects. In other words, he doesn’t recognize that a belief
in a basic continuity in nature at the microscopic level between man and nonhuman
animals does not require us to assert materialism and deny immaterial entities. This
mistake is related to a misunderstanding that leads Adler to assert that man’s ability
to develop concepts does not depend on the size and complexity of his brain, which I
will discuss in the next chapter. At this point I want the reader to recognize that the
basic conflict between Adler and the animal behaviorists is not that the latter do not
understand the distinction between sense and intellect (although they may not), but
rather that Adler asserts a priori that there is a radical difference in kind between
man and nonhuman animals, while the animal behaviorists assert a priori that there
is only a superficial difference in kind. In other words, for basic philosophical
reasons both groups assert the positions that they do, and the reasons they assert
these positions have little to do with the experimental evidence that they are
analyzing. The reason the animal behaviorists assume only a superficial difference in
kind is that this viewpoint is more “dynamic”—it allows for the possibility of
understanding the behavior of man in terms of the behavior of animals, and vice
versa, and thus offers them greater opportunity in their research. The reason that
Adler assumes a radical difference in kind is because he believes that unless this is
done we would have to deny the immateriality of the intellect, and because of that
we would have to reject most of the central tenets of his philosophy and accept
conclusions that undermine any rational attempt to establish a sound moral
philosophy. However, Adler is mistaken in believing this. In the next chapter I will
show that accepting the principle of continuity does not lead to these drastic
conclusions, but instead leads to conclusions that enhance our ability to establish a
sound moral philosophy. Once this is done, the principle of discontinuity becomes
completely untenable and the principle of continuity becomes the only reasonable
choice. The argument is then decided in favor of the animal behaviorists.
The mistake of asserting that the difference between man and nonhuman
animals is a radical difference in kind is a serious mistake because it undermines any
reconciliation of the sciences and the humanities. Indeed, it is a mistake that

underlies much of the work in the social sciences, particularly anthropology and
sociology, and it leads social scientists to misunderstand and misinterpret the
results of biology, and in particular it makes it difficult for them to understand how
the theories of the natural sciences can aid them in their own work. All of these are
serious problems. A good example of how a belief in a radical difference in kind
leads to problems in the social sciences is the confusion caused by the use of the
word “culture” by cultural anthropologists.
The definitions of culture used by anthropologists are reviewed by Leslie A.
White in “The Concept of Culture” in American Anthropologist (1959), which I will
use as a basis for this discussion. As White notes, most definitions of culture used by
social scientists have been based on the assumption that culture is something that is
unique to man. The earliest such definition that was widely accepted is the classical
definition by Edward Burnett Tylor in 1871 that culture is “that complex whole
which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and many other
capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society.” As cultural
anthropology developed, this definition proved inadequate and many other
definitions of culture have been tried. These have ranged from the idea that culture
is “the totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior,” to the idea that culture is
“an abstraction from human behavior,” or even to the idea that the whole concept of
culture is a “statistical fiction.” The idea that White proposes is that culture is “a
class of things and events, dependent upon symbolling, considered in an extra-
somatic context.” This definition requires an understanding of “symbolling” and
“extrasomatic context.” “Symbolling” is essentially an action of man that is depend-
ent on the use of symbols to represent ideas. This concept is made more precise by
describing the various stages through which animals and man have evolved in their
ability to communicate with other members of their species, the last stage being the
development of language and the use of symbols. This last stage is exclusively an
attainment of man, so symbolling is something that only man does. Culture is thus
defined as including only things and events that are unique to man and are not
shared by nonhuman animals. Considering these things and events in an
“extrasomatic context” essentially means that they are considered as they relate to
each other rather than how they relate directly to the persons handling the things
and participating in the events. Although the definition of culture stated above is
fairly short, the actual idea of culture that it presents is quite complex because it
involves the ideas of symbolling and extrasomatic, both of which are quite complex.
This definition and comparable ones are used by many anthropologists.
Underlying the above definition is the correct assumption that the main
distinction between animals and man is that man possesses a propositional
language, and the description of the evolution of man’s behavior that symbolling
implies may well be valid. But a definition of culture that is as complex as this one

has a severe drawback. By assuming so much within the very definition of culture
the use of the concept necessarily imposes upon the work of the cultural anthro-
pologists many philosophical presuppositions that needlessly bias their view of
their discipline. For example, if culture is assumed to require an ability unique to
man, then anthropologists will necessarily have to interpret their subject matter as
divorced from the larger study of the behavior of all animals and will resist any
attempts to reinterpret their work using concepts developed by biology. Fur-
thermore, the view of the evolution of language that is implicit in the concept of
symbolling will become a necessary part of the way they define their problems, and
it will be difficult for them to incorporate alternative views of the evolution of
language. Of course, no definition is completely unbiased, and many of the ideas that
are incorporated into the definition of culture may well be sound, but the more
complex the definition of culture used by anthropologists the greater will be their
biases and the less flexible will be their ability to incorporate or resolve conflicting
ideas. If a simpler definition of culture is workable, then it would be inherently
sounder just because it is simpler.
As an example of a definition of culture that is both workable and notably
simpler, we can consider the kind of definition used by the animal behaviorists. For
example, in The Evolution of Culture in Animals (1980), John Tyler Bonner defines
culture as “the transfer of information by behavioral means, most particularly by the
process of teaching and learning.” This definition is inherently simpler and
philosophically more neutral than the definition of the cultural anthropologists
given above. Bonner’s definition reflects the fact that information is passed between
the members of a species either through teaching and learning, or through the
transmittance of genes to offspring. Culture is the transfer of information by
teaching and learning. Underlying the application of this definition to man is the
assumption that man and nonhuman animals differ only superficially in kind.
Bonner shows how these simple concepts can be used to organize an elegant and
convincing description of how organisms evolved their mental capacities and
behaviors, and how man is both similar to and different from other animals. In
contrast, the definition of the cultural anthropologists is based on the assumption
that man and nonhuman animals differ radically in kind, and that animals evolved
through several stages of communicating to finally achieve the ability found only in
man that is called “symbolling.” Symbolling is considered a radical change in the
history of evolution—either an animal symbols or it doesn’t. The difference in the
definitions of the animal behaviorists and the cultural anthropologists helps
establish a paradigm for the social scientists that is in conflict with the paradigm of
the animal behaviorists. In other words, a basic disagreement over whether the
difference between man and nonhuman animals is superficial or radical separates
the thought of the animal behaviorists from the thought of the cultural anthropolo-

gists. Those who maintain that the difference is radical believe that this separation
can never be resolved, while those who maintain that the difference is only
superficial believe that this separation can be resolved.
As a further defense of his assertion that man differs radically in kind from
animals, Adler presents in both The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes
and Ten Philosophical Mistakes a more precise definition of “concept,” and then
claims that with concepts thus precisely defined it can be shown that animals do not
have concepts. Monod, on the other hand, presents in Chance and Necessity a
different definition for “concept,” and then goes on to explain why it is appropriate
to consider animals to have concepts. I will not attempt to clarify this debate here,
since that would require an involved discussion of the relevant experiments and the
way in which they are analyzed. However, I do think it would be helpful to give one
example of many that Bonner cites in The Evolution of Culture in Animals that
illustrates cultural transmittance and maintenance in animals; indirectly, it can be
seen that it would be difficult to interpret such behavior if we didn’t assume that
animals have the ability to develop concepts.
In Among the Elephants (1975), Iain and Oria Douglas-Hamilton describe some
of the observations that scientists and others have made of different groups of
elephants in Africa since around the turn of the century. Many of the groups are
quite tame and relatively unafraid of man, but there are some groups that have been
hunted extensively and are fearful of man and dangerous. One group in particular
shows how changes in behavior can be learned and then taught to succeeding
generations. In 1919 there was an attempt to annihilate all the elephants in one
particular group of about 140 that lived in the South African Park of Addo. Although
the elephants in this group were comparatively tame, they were endangering the
local citrus trees, and the farmers had contracted with a well-known hunter named
Pretorius to exterminate the group. Hunters who had used semi-automatic rifles
that killed entire family groups at one time had successfully exterminated other
groups of elephants. Pretorius did not use this method, however, but instead killed
the elephants one by one. Most of the elephants that survived witnessed the death of
family members. Although all but between sixteen and thirty elephants were killed
within a year, Pretorius was unable to kill the remaining elephants. The elephants
had learned to be extremely cautious and they had taken to remaining in heavy
brush during the day and went out only at night. Eventually Pretorius had to give up
his hunt. The survivors were never killed, and in 1930 they were given a sanctuary
in the Addo Park, where they remain to this day. The behavior of this group of
elephants has never changed: they keep themselves hidden in deep brush during the
daytime and go about only at night, they are extremely wary of humans, and they are
considered among the most dangerous elephants in Africa. However, few of the
original elephants can still be alive—the behavior that they learned when

they were hunted by Pretorius has been passed down to their offspring even of the
third and fourth generation.
In The Evolution of Culture in Animals, Bonner presents a survey of learning
and teaching in organisms from simple single-cell bacteria on up to man. Bacteria
will move in chemical gradients towards locations that are more likely to contain
food, a response that can be considered instinctive action in its most primitive form.
As we move up to more complex organisms, we find that they start to display
habitual responses that depend not only on their current environment but also on
their past environments—this can be considered the most primitive form of
learning. The reason that learned behavior has evolved is apparently two-fold: first,
in some cases it makes the organism more adaptable to its environment and
increases its chance to survive and reproduce, and second, it apparently requires a
less drastic change in the genetic material to code for a learned response than to
code for all the details of a comparable instinctive response. We can expect that an
organism will evolve a purely instinctive pattern of behavior only in situations
where it is difficult for the organism to learn the proper behavior. For example, some
birds, called brood parasites, place their eggs in the nest of other birds whose eggs
the eggs of the brood parasites mimic; if successful, the birds whose eggs were
displaced will be tricked into raising the offspring of the brood parasites. In species
of brood parasites the courtship and mating behavior of the birds needs to be coded
strictly because young birds will not have the opportunity to learn this behavior
from their parents, and indeed we find that the courtship and mating behavior of
these birds is entirely instinctive, while that of most other birds have many learned
components. This is a reflection of the fact that behavior is never purely instinctive if
learned behavior can be substituted for instinctive behavior.
As we progress from less highly evolved organisms to more highly evolved
organisms, there is a steady increase in the ability of the organism to adapt its
behavior to its environment and eventually to teach specific behavior to other
members of its species. Even in moderately developed organisms such as ants,
termites, and bees, there are behavioral differences between different colonies that
reflect different environments. We find among many birds and mammals a primitive
form of culture in which behavior is taught to offspring and maintained through
generations, such as the example given above of the Addo Park elephants. Such
transmittance and maintenance of behavior would appear to require the ability to
develop what can well be described as “concepts.” What distinguishes man from the
animals is not that “intellect” or “culture” is unique to him, but rather that man has
developed the use of a propositional language. This development has allowed him to
learn and also to teach far more efficiently and effectively than had been possible
before. Once Homo sapiens developed this ability he seems to have eventually killed
off the other members of the genus Homo and started the brutal competition within
his own species that led to the rapid evolution of his brain until it reached its

present size about 300,000 years ago.

The difference between man and nonhuman animals is a true difference in
kind—man has abilities that are unique to man and not possessed by other animals.
But the difference in kind between man and other animals is only a superficial
difference in kind and not a radical difference in kind. The behavior of man is a
legitimate area for scientific investigation, and we can anticipate that the laws
governing the behavior of man will ultimately be reconciled with the fundamental
laws of physics and biology. Underlying the manifested differences of kind between
man and other animals, as underlying all the manifested differences of kind between
material beings, is a basic continuity in nature. In the next chapter I will examine
some of the reasons that Adler thinks otherwise, and by correcting his mistakes I
will show that the principle of continuity is fundamental to the reconciliation of the
sciences and the humanities.
Chapter IX
Man's Place in the Universe

In the last chapter I discussed the views of Jacques Monod and Mortimer J. Adler
regarding the impact of modern science on man’s conception of his place in nature.
The conflict between the ideas of these two thinkers illustrates the type of conflicts
we have between our scientific thought and our humanistic thought: Jacques Monod
recognizes that modern science has contradicted the roots of many of the
philosophical systems that we use to establish the values by which we live our lives,
but he is unable to find a satisfactory resolution of this dilemma because he doesn’t
understand the equivalency of causal and purposeful thought; Adler correctly
understands that our ideas are that by which we apprehend objects that have
existence outside of ourselves, which leads readily to a correct understanding of the
equivalency of causal and purposeful thought, but he incorrectly asserts that the
difference between man and nonhuman animals is a radical difference in kind. Both
of these thinkers hold views that ultimately undermine a reconciliation of scientific
and humanistic thought. Adler defends his view that the difference between man
and nonhuman animals is a radical difference in kind primarily because he believes
that accepting the alternative, the principle of continuity, will undermine his
philosophy by establishing materialism. This is incorrect. The principle of continuity
does not imply materialism. In this chapter I will explain the mistake that leads
Adler to make this erroneous conclusion, and in doing this I will establish the moral
philosophy I am developing on a firm metaphysical foundation.
The mistake that Adler makes is his assertion that the degree to which man
possesses intellect is independent of the size and complexity of his brain, which he
discusses in Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985). Adler correctly considers the
intellect to be immaterial, but just because the intellect is immaterial does not mean
that our ability to develop concepts is not dependent on the physical construction of
our brain. From common sense we know that people are born with different mental
abilities—some people have greater aptitude in the sciences, some have more
musical ability, some develop social skills more readily, some have more artistic
talent, some have more mechanical abilities, and so on. Thus, we can appeal to
common experience in asserting that man’s ability to develop concepts is depend-
100
Man’s Place in the Universe 101
ent on the size and complexity of his brain. Moreover, physicists have also proved
this assertion rigorously. I will explain this shortly, but before I do, I want to first
explain why believing that man’s ability to develop concepts is independent of the
size and complexity of his brain leads to the conclusion that the principle of
continuity implies materialism.
To understand the argument, let us assume two premises. The first premise is
that man possesses an immaterial intellect. The second premise, assumed by Adler,
is that a material being’s conceptual powers are independent of the size and com-
plexity of its brain. Given these two premises, we must necessarily conclude that
there is a class of organisms that have conceptual powers that are not possessed by
organisms outside of this class, and that this class of organisms cannot include all
living beings. The reason we must make this conclusion is that otherwise we would
have to accept such ridiculous notions as, say, that viruses and bacteria possess
conceptual thought that is comparable to that possessed by man. For that matter,
since there is no clear separation between living and nonliving things, we are led to
the even more absurd notion that nonliving things must possess conceptual thought
comparable to that possessed by man. In other words, given the two premises stated
above we must conclude that the class of material beings that possess conceptual
thought is not the class of all living beings, and certainly not the class of all material
beings.
The above argument thus shows that, given these two premises, there must be
a basic discontinuity in nature between material beings that possess conceptual
thought and material beings that don’t possess conceptual thought. Once we have
concluded this, then it seems reasonable to suppose that the class of material beings
possessing conceptual thought includes only man. Adler supports this conclusion by
asserting that conceptual thought is manifested in the possession of a propositional
language, and that since only man appears to possess a propositional language, the
class of organisms that possess conceptual thought must include only man. Of
course, the argument above doesn’t require that we assert that man is the only
material being in the class of material beings possessing conceptual thought, only
that there must be a basic discontinuity in nature between those material beings
that possess conceptual thought and those material beings that don’t, but given this
discontinuity it is reasonable to suppose that this class includes only man.
Given this result, what is the effect of asserting the principle of continuity?
Since the principle of continuity contradicts the conclusion derived from the two
premises stated above, then at least one of the premises must be false. Since Adler
doesn’t question the second premise (that a material being’s conceptual powers are
independent of the size and complexity of its brain) he is led to conclude that the
first premise (that the intellect is immaterial) would have to be false. Thus, he
equates the acceptance of the principle of continuity with the acceptance of the
metaphysical doctrine of materialism. The consequences that he thinks are so

drastic are the consequences that result from this doctrine.

The logic of the argument given above is sound, but the faulty premise is not
the first premise, but rather the second premise. A material being’s conceptual
powers do depend on the size and complexity of its brain, and given that, then the
principle of continuity does not imply materialism. Once this is recognized, the
problem disappears.
I noted above that not only does common sense tell us that a material being’s
conceptual powers depend on the size and complexity of its brain, but that physi-
cists have proven this rigorously. The proof is given by a theorem that solves the
problem of “Maxwell’s demon,” which is a thought experiment that is well known to
physicists, physical chemists, and biologists. This problem is discussed by Jacques
Monod in Chance and Necessity (1971), in which he notes that the solution of this
problem is the source of much of the thinking in modern biology as well as in
physics. The problem and its solution can be explained as follows.
The problem of Maxwell’s demon arises in the study of heat. One formulation of
the second law of thermodynamics states that heat cannot pass spontaneously from
a body of lower temperature to one of higher temperature. “Heat” is known to be the
result of the motion of atoms, and a volume of gas will be hotter than another
volume if the speed or momentum of the molecules that make up the first volume is
greater than that of the molecules that make up the second. Maxwell’s demon was a
hypothetical man that stood at a passageway from one container of gas to another,
and it was imagined that he would allow only fast molecules to pass in one direction
and slow molecules to pass in the other direction. It appeared that the demon could,
through the operation of his cognitive powers alone, allow one of the spaces to
become occupied by fast molecules and the other by slow molecules; since one space
would then become spontaneously hotter, the action of the demon’s intellect would
be in violation of the second law of thermodynamics.
The problem of Maxwell’s demon bedeviled physicists for generations, for the
use of the demon’s intellect seemed impossible to define, analyze, or measure in
physical terms. A solution was finally devised by Léon Brillouin based on earlier
work by Leo Szilard, as Brillouin discusses in his Science and Information Theory
(1956). Brillouin showed that the demon had to consume energy to use his cognitive
powers because he had to measure the speed of each gas molecule, and that the
amount of energy he consumed was exactly that predicted by the second law. Thus,
the action of the intellect and its cognitive powers, insofar as it affects our
functioning in the physical world, will be governed by the same laws of physics that
govern all our actions in the physical world.
Since this is a difficult point to understand I will discuss it in more detail. As I
have explained, our actual choice of the theories and laws by which we understand

reality cannot be chosen entirely on logical grounds, but necessarily involve an

element of choice. From the principle of symmetry, this freedom of choice in
accepting scientific principles is the same as the freedom of will we exercise in
making moral choices. It is the action of the intellect and will to make these choices,
and since by symmetry the will can be considered equivalent to the intellect, the
action of the will is the same as the action of the intellect—the distinction between
intellect and will is an analytical distinction and does not represent a real difference
between the two. Since the choices of the intellect (or will) are free it must be
immaterial and governed by principles distinct from the principles that govern the
action of material entities. However, even if the actions of the intellect are free, we
find from the theorem of Brillouin that in order for the action of the intellect to have
any effect on the physical world, it must do so with the expenditure of energy exactly
as would be predicted by the laws of physics. This expenditure of energy results
from an action of the senses, which depends on the size and complexity of the brain.
In exercising his cognitive powers Maxwell’s demon has to expend energy in the
process of measuring the position of the gas molecule, and a brain that was much
less developed than a human brain would not be able to perceive a “velocity” or a
“molecule.” Thus, even though the intellect is immaterial and distinct from the
senses, the conceptual powers of which the intellect is capable depend on the
senses, which in turn depend on the size and complexity of the brain. As Adler
points out, the action of the brain is only a necessary and not a sufficient condition
for the functioning of the human mind, but nevertheless, the complexity and nature
of our conceptual thought is dependent on the complexity and structure of the brain.
Once we understand that our conceptual thought is dependent on the size and
complexity of the brain, and therefore that the principle of continuity doesn’t imply
materialism with all of its philosophical complications, then the argument of Adler
against the principle of continuity and for the principle of discontinuity immediately
fails. There are no reasonable objections left to the principle of continuity. Since it is
the more “dynamic” of the two possible alternatives, the principle of continuity is
established beyond a reasonable doubt.
The principle of discontinuity is not only unreasonable for fundamental
philosophical reasons, but in addition the idea that there is a radical difference in
kind between man and nonhuman animals has been refuted by modern biology
simply because an underlying characteristic that varies only in degree that accounts
for the manifested difference in kind between human beings and other living beings
has already been found. As I will discuss later in this book, the underlying molecular
processes leading to all of the structures and actions of living organisms have
already been explicated in great detail, and a characteristic that differs only in
degree can be rigorously defined. The different characteristics of living organisms
can be explained in terms of these underlying differences in degree at the
microscopic level. This is completely analogous to the explanation at the microscopic

level of the manifested differences in kind between solids, liquids, and gases. For all
practical purposes, the question of whether or not there is a radical difference in
kind between man and nonhuman animals has already been answered, and there is
no reasonable defense for believing in the existence of a radical difference in kind
between any material beings.
The necessity for assuming a basic continuity in nature becomes more
apparent when we consider the details of human evolution. If the principle of
discontinuity were true, then we would have to imagine that during the evolution of
man there suddenly appeared one organism that had an intellect while none of the
others of his species did, but since we know that evolution is the result of chance
mutations each of which is relatively minor, it is difficult to imagine what mutation
or recombination of genes could suddenly appear that would provide such a radical
change. Despite the claims of many cultural anthropologists that symbolling must
have appeared suddenly and absolutely—an organism either symbols or it doesn’t—
it appears much more likely that language evolved in small steps, just as we imagine
that all traits evolved in small steps. Combining our knowledge of evolutionary
history with the assumption of a radical difference in kind between man and
nonhuman animals necessarily leads to the conclusion that sometime during man’s
evolution he was suddenly “endowed” with an intellect. This type of ad hoc
explanation doesn’t seem very plausible and instead seems to be a relic of religious
or philosophical superstitions. It certainly seems to needlessly complicate the
application of well-established laws of physics and biology. It is from such
considerations that most scientists reject the idea that there is a basic discontinuity
in nature.
The error of thinking that man differs from animals radically in kind rather
than in degree is a fundamental mistake and can lead to serious consequences. The
most serious consequence is that it undermines any reconciliation of the sciences
and humanities; the principle of continuity is so basic to scientific research it is
difficult to see how rejecting it could lead to a reconciliation. Another consequence is
that it leads us to misunderstand man’s place in the universe and how his biology
affects his nature, as is illustrated by the conflict between the cultural
anthropologists and the animal behaviorists. Furthermore, it undermines the
objective basis for a moral philosophy because it introduces an element of
arbitrariness into our understanding of human nature. If we accept that the intellect
and will were suddenly endowed upon man during the course of his evolution, and
that man is governed by laws that are unique to him alone and are not reconcilable
with the fundamental laws of physics and biology, then we really have no substan-
tive recourse to the investigative observations of science to help decide whether the
beliefs we possess about human nature are or are not superstitions. People tend to
accept those scientific theories that lead to conclusions with which they agree and

reject those that lead to conclusions with which they disagree, and if a person
premises an argument on the principle of discontinuity, he can logically argue for
almost anything that isn’t highly divergent from what most people consider common
sense. Asserting that there is a radical difference in kind between man and
nonhuman animals can be a device a person can use to assert whatever prejudices
or superstitions he happens to possess and to reject the findings of science that
conflict with these prejudices and superstitions.
I have shown earlier in this book that the metaphysical doctrine of materialism
is untenable and is contradicted by the philosophy and history of science. Although
many scientists and philosophers make the mistake of asserting that the funda-
mental presupposition that guides scientific research is a belief in materialism in
one form or another, this is not true. The fundamental presupposition that guides
scientific research is the belief that underlying all of the differences of kind that are
manifested in the physical world is a basic continuity that allows all these differ-
ences in kind to be explained by underlying differences in degree, which means that
scientific laws can and ought to be totally consistent and reconcilable with each
other, and that no phenomena require the assertion of a discontinuity in nature that
is completely resistant to reduction by scientific analysis. In order to properly
understand the implications of science for our understanding of man’s place in the
universe, we must recognize the fundamental distinction between materialism and
the principle of continuity. No reconciliation of the sciences and the humanities is
possible unless this is done. No philosophy that asserts materialism will ever be
acceptable to the humanities, and no philosophy that asserts the principle of discon-
tinuity will ever be acceptable to the sciences.
In Chapter I, I explained that the philosophy in this book rests on two basic
presuppositions. The first presupposition is that there is a knowable material reality
outside our minds, and the second is that man has a determinate specific nature that
includes the cognitive powers of sense and intellect. At this time I will also adopt as
a basic presupposition the principle of continuity. When this is done, it immediately
follows that the first presupposition above entails the second, and furthermore, that
man’s determinate human nature is in principle understandable by the same laws
and methods that have been used by the natural sciences to investigate physical
phenomena. In other words, man’s human nature is as much a legitimate area of
scientific investigation as any other realm of the universe.
Accordingly, I will no longer say that the assertion that man has a determinate
specific nature that includes the cognitive powers of sense and intellect is a basic
presupposition of this work. Instead, I will retain the first presupposition above and
add to it as a second presupposition the principle of continuity. To make this clear I
will repeat the two presuppositions upon which the philosophy developed in this
book are based. Neither of these presuppositions can be proved indubitably to be

true, but rather must be accepted as reasonable. The reasonableness of the presup-
positions can best be assessed by comparing them with the alternatives.
The first presupposition is that there is a reality outside our minds; that this
reality has a structure of its own regardless of how we think about it; that this
structure is intelligible; and that reality provides us with the basis for determining
the truth or falseness of our ideas about its structure. If we do not accept this
presupposition then we must accept that there is not a reality outside of our minds,
that the structure of this reality is dependent on how we think about it, that this
structure is unintelligible, or that reality provides us with no basis for determining
the truth or falseness of our ideas about its structure. I think that accepting the truth
of the first presupposition is clearly more reasonable then accepting the alternative.
The second presupposition is that underlying the entire physical universe is a
basic continuity; that there is no radical difference in kind between any material
beings that have real existence; and that the laws that govern all events in the
physical universe are ultimately consistent and reconcilable with each other. If we do
not accept this presupposition then we must accept that underlying all of the
physical universe is a basic discontinuity, that there is a radical difference in kind
between some classes of material objects that have real existence, and that the laws
that govern some events in the physical universe are not ultimately consistent and
reconcilable with the laws that govern other events. For all of the reasons I have
discussed, I think it is clearly more reasonable to accept the second presupposition
then to accept its alternative.
If we accept the first presupposition and add to it the reductio ad absurdum
argument that results from the attempt of the analytic philosophers to reduce
mathematics and scientific methodology to logic, then we are necessarily led to the
conclusion that immaterial entities exist and that the existence and action of human
beings are dependent on the existence and action of these entities. The work of the
analytic philosophers in attempting to reduce mathematics and scientific method-
ology to logic was premised on the opposite assumption that immaterial entities do
not exist, or at least that the existence and action of material entities are inde-
pendent of the existence and action of immaterial entities. The work of the analytic
philosophers is a reductio ad absurdum argument against this premise because
logical analysis from this premise leads to self-contradictory results. Thus, if we
accept the first presupposition above that there is a knowable material reality
outside our minds, then we must reject the premise that the existence and action of
human beings are independent of the existence and action of immaterial entities,
and must instead conclude that immaterial entities exist and that the existence and
action of human beings are dependent on the existence and action of these
immaterial entities. This leads to the following, our understanding of which is
enhanced by Brillouin’s solution to the problem of Maxwell’s demon: the action of
the mind (an immaterial entity) is dependent on the existence and action of the

brain (a material entity), and the action of the brain depends on the existence and
action of the mind. This is, of course, consistent with the concept that our ideas are
that by which we apprehend objects that have existence outside of ourselves.
At this point I think it will be useful to discuss exactly what is meant when we
say that an immaterial entity exists. For readers who are not familiar with philo-
sophical speculation this can be a confusing point, and I think that this needs to be
clarified.
Earlier in this book I discussed different modes of reality. Those things that we
apprehend in the macroscopic world we live in are the things that have the greatest
reality for us. Thus, when I talk about a table the reader will not have much difficulty
understanding what I am talking about. Nor will it be difficult for him to understand
what I mean when I say that a table exists, or that it doesn’t exist and is only
imaginary. However, when I start talking about things that exist in the microscopic
or megascopic world it becomes more difficult for the reader to understand both
what I am talking about and whether the things do or do not exist. The ideas I use to
discuss things that may or may not exist in the macroscopic world I will call
empirical constructs, the adjective “empirical” meaning that the characteristics and
existence of these constructs can in principle be determined by direct appeal to
experience in the macroscopic world. The ideas I use to discuss things that may or
may not exist in the microscopic and megascopic world I will call theoretical
constructs, the adjective “theoretical” meaning that the characteristics and existence
of these constructs cannot be determined by direct appeal to experience in the
macroscopic world, but can only be inferred indirectly. We do not directly perceive
electrons, atoms, and black holes. They are theoretical constructs.
The first question to ask is: how can we decide whether a theoretical construct
has real existence? For example, how do we know that electrons, atoms, and black
holes exist if we cannot perceive them directly? The principle that governs whether
or not we can accept the existence of such entities is the following: we can assert the
real existence of entities that are not or cannot be directly observed if and only if
their real existence is necessary to explain observed phenomena. In other words, if
the real existence of electrons, atoms, and black holes is necessary to explain the
observations that we make, then we must assert that electrons, atoms, and black
holes really exist; if the real existence of electrons, atoms, and black holes are not
necessary to explain the observations of scientists, then we must assert that they
don’t exist.
By this criterion, we can say that electrons, atoms, and black holes exist. But
once we make this assertion we are led to a second question: what is the nature of
these entities? In other words, what are electrons, atoms, and black holes? This is a
difficult question because we can only describe these entities in terms of the

empirical constructs we directly perceive in the macroscopic world. The way we

develop an understanding of microscopic and megascopic entities is to describe the
ways in which they are like and unlike the things that we do directly perceive. For
example, in discussing electrons we can say that they are like macroscopic charged
particles in a way. They have mass and a negative electrical charge. Yet, although
they are like particles that we can directly observe in these ways, they are different
in other ways. For one, the mass and charge of an electron are always the same,
while the mass and charge of macroscopic particles often vary. Moreover, electrons
are distinctly unlike particles and behave more like waves in certain phenomena. For
example, electrons form a spectrum when passed through a diffraction grating.
Continuing in this fashion we can get a better and better understanding of what
electrons are. However, since they are theoretical constructs, we can never
understand what they are in as definite and tangible a way as we can the things we
directly observe in the macroscopic world. But since they are necessary in order to
explain observable phenomena, we know that they really exist.
Now, electrons, atoms, and black holes are all somewhat difficult to understand,
but all of these entities are material entities. Thus, although they are unlike what we
directly observe in the macroscopic world in some ways, they are still very much like
what we observe in that they are material. We can understand them reasonably well.
But what if we find it necessary to assert the real existence of some entity that we
suppose to be immaterial? Since an immaterial entity is not something we can
directly perceive in the macroscopic world, it is a theoretical construct, but if the
entity is necessary to explain observed phenomena, then we must assert that it
really exists. However, an immaterial entity will be much more difficult to describe
than a material entity. As before, we must describe it by explaining how it is both like
and unlike those things that we do observe directly in the macroscopic world, but
since it is completely unlike anything that we directly observe in that it is
immaterial, we must do this somewhat indirectly.
This is exactly the situation we have when we find that we must assert the real
existence of an immaterial entity the existence and action of which affects the
existence and action of human beings. We call this immaterial entity intellect, will, or
more generally, mind. Given the presupposition that there is a knowable material
reality outside of ourselves, logical deduction then leads to the conclusion that an
immaterial mind exists. We must either accept this conclusion or reject the pre-
supposition. If we reject the presupposition, then we are in effect rejecting that
anything is material. It certainly seems more reasonable to assert that both a
material world and an immaterial mind exist then to assert that nothing material
exists. Thus, we can conclude beyond any reasonable doubt that an immaterial mind
exists.
However, although we can readily conclude that an immaterial mind exists, it is
much more difficult to understand exactly what it is. As always, we must describe

what it is by how it is both like and unlike the things we directly observe. It is unlike
the things we directly observe in that it is immaterial, but it is like the things we
directly observe in a number of ways. First of all, a mind is like all the things we
directly observe in the macroscopic world in that it has real existence. In addition, a
mind is not one unique object, but rather is one of a class of objects. In other words,
there are more minds than just one in the world; in fact, each human being in the
world has a mind. Furthermore, minds are like human beings in that they can be
identified. I have my mind and you have your mind. Each mind has a unique identity.
If we go beyond these basic characteristics of a mind and include the ideas I have
discussed earlier about the nature of our thought, we can say further that the
concepts of the mind are that by which we apprehend objects that have existence
outside of ourselves. These characteristics in which minds are both like and unlike
the things that we directly observe give us a good notion of what a mind is, but since
the mind is unlike anything we directly observe in that it is immaterial, these notions
will always be less tangible and more difficult to understand than our ideas of the
nature of directly observable things such as a table or chair. Indeed, our idea of the
nature of a mind will be less tangible and understandable than even our ideas of the
nature of electrons, atoms, and black holes.
Another way of stating the above is as follows. The mind is a theoretical con-
struct that can be proven to exist just as validly as theoretical constructs such as
electrons, atoms, and black holes can be proven to exist. We understand the nature
of theoretical constructs through analyzing how these constructs are both like and
unlike the empirical constructs we apprehend in everyday life. Since empirical
constructs are all material it is inherently more difficult to describe and understand
in concrete terms theoretical constructs that are immaterial than theoretical con-
structs that are material. Nevertheless, if the real existence of these immaterial
entities is necessary to explain observed phenomena, then it must be concluded that
they do in fact exist.
The first presupposition given above—that there is a knowable material reality
outside of our minds—leads necessarily to the conclusion that the existence and
action of human beings depends on the existence and action of immaterial entities
that we call minds. The second presupposition—that there is a basic continuity in
nature—leads to another important result: the existence and action of all material
entities depends on the existence and action of immaterial entities. This also follows
from logical analysis. Let us suppose that there were some material beings whose
existence and action did not depend on the existence and action of immaterial
entities. If this were true, then we would necessarily have two classes of objects
between which there would be a basic discontinuity. A material entity whose
existence and action depends on the existence and action of an immaterial entity
would differ in kind from a material entity whose existence and action did not

depend on the existence and action of an immaterial entity, and this difference in
kind would be radical because there could be no underlying characteristic at the
microscopic level that was different only in degree that was manifested as the
difference in kind. This violates the presupposition, so we must conclude that the
existence and action of all material entities depends on the existence and action of
immaterial entities.
This is an important result, and leads to an important conclusion. The first
thing we need to note is that the characteristic of being dependent on the existence
and action of an immaterial entity is a characteristic that is properly predicable on
both parts and whole. That is, if the existence and action of the component parts of a
whole depends on the existence and action of an immaterial entity, then the exist-
ence and action of the whole depends on the existence and action of an immaterial
entity. Since existence and action of all material entities depend on the existence and
action of immaterial entities, the existence and action of the whole of the universe,
which is the whole of all material entities, also depends on the existence and action
of an immaterial entity. What is this immaterial entity? We have just shown that this
entity is a theoretical construct that must really exist; to understand what this entity
is we need to describe its characteristics.
We can see that the immaterial entity on whose existence and action the exist-
ence and action of the whole of the universe depends is unlike any other immaterial
entity. All other immaterial entities are particular instances of classes of entities, just
as all material entities are also particular instances of classes of entities. But this
particular immaterial entity is unique, just as the whole of the universe is unique. If
we compare the characteristics of this immaterial entity to any observable material
entity in the macroscopic world (which of course doesn’t include the whole of the
universe), we find that this immaterial entity is unlike these material entities in
every way that is relevant to how we determine the real existence of these material
entities. But it is like these material entities in that it has real existence. What do we
call this immaterial entity?
The name that has traditionally been given to this immaterial entity is God, and
it can be seen that the two presuppositions given above—the presupposition that
there is a knowable material reality outside the mind along with the presupposition
that there is a basic continuity in nature—necessarily leads to a proof of the
existence of God. However, since God is unlike any observable material entity in all
respects that are relevant to how we determine the real existence of a material
entity, except in that he has real existence, God is a difficult entity to describe
definitely. I will not attempt to describe God in any greater detail, but will instead
only make some general comments about his nature and existence and what is
involved in speculation about God. Such matters are of great importance, of course,
but most speculation about the nature and existence of God lies outside the scope of
philosophy.

Thinking about the nature and existence of God is considered a part of theology.
Theology includes both natural theology, which is thinking about God separate from
ideas that are considered to be revealed through religious faith, and sacred theology,
which is thinking about God that incorporates ideas that are considered to be
revealed through religious faith. In this chapter I will discuss only natural theology.
All that natural theology can do is to learn something about the nature of God and to
try to discern from reason whether or not God exists. Since God is so totally unlike
anything else that exists, he is in a sense less tangible and understandable to us than
anything else that exists in the world, and to learn more about him beyond whether
he exists and in what sense he is both like and unlike the things that we can directly
observe is beyond the scope of reason.
I have claimed that the above gives a proof of the existence of God. Since this
proof of the existence of God follows by logical deduction from presuppositions that
are true beyond a reasonable doubt, we can conclude that God exists beyond a
reasonable doubt. However, although this proof is sound, I have given it quite briefly.
A much more thorough discussion of the nature and existence of God from the point
of view of natural theology is given by Mortimer J. Adler in How to Think About God
(1980). I will discuss some of Adler’s ideas; the reader who is interested in more
details should consult this work.
In How to Think About God, Adler discusses how to describe God and how to go
about proving or disproving his existence. Adler examines some of the traditional
arguments for the existence of God, and shows that they are fallacious. By correcting
the mistakes that others have made, Adler shows that the proof of the existence of
God rests on four premises. That is, if these premises are true, then it necessarily
follows that God exists. Two of these premises are logically self-evident, and the
third premise is the assertion that the universe as a whole exists, which is the first
presupposition I gave above. The fourth premise is this: the existence of the universe
as a whole is radically contingent. A contingent being is any really existing individual
being that has its existence from, through, and in another; that is, whose existence is
dependent on the existence and action of another. By radically contingent we mean
that if the universe were to come into being and pass away, it would come into being
out of nothing, and pass away by reduction into nothingness. As Adler explains,
individual things are only superficially contingent; that is, if they come into
being and pass away, they come into being out of something, and pass away by
reduction into something. For example, a man comes into being out of atoms and
molecules that exist prior to his being, and when he passes away he is reduced
to atoms and molecules that exist subsequent to his being. If individual things
are contingent, then they are necessarily only superficially contingent, while

if the universe as a whole is contingent, then it is necessarily radically contingent.

Thus, this fourth premise is equivalent to: the existence of the universe as a whole is
contingent. If this premise is true, then it necessarily follows that God exists and acts
to sustain the universe in existence.
I have shown that the two presuppositions given above necessarily imply that
the existence and action of the universe as a whole is dependent on the existence
and action of an immaterial entity. By definition this means that the universe as a
whole is contingent. Thus, these presuppositions necessarily imply that God exists
and acts to sustain the universe in existence. Since the two presuppositions given
above are true beyond a reasonable doubt, then the existence of God is true beyond
a reasonable doubt.
The reader should note that if the second presupposition given above—the
principle of continuity—is not accepted, then one is not led to this conclusion. In
particular, if one supposes that human beings are contingent on immaterial entities,
but that there is a radical difference in kind between human beings and other living
beings, then one cannot conclude that the whole of the universe is or is not contin-
gent. Because of this, Adler cannot state firmly that God exists, but instead is led to
somewhat equivocal results. He shows that the premise that the whole of the
universe is radically contingent is true if and only if the universe can be other than
the way it is. Adler then accepts the idea that the universe can be other than the way
it is as true beyond a reasonable doubt, and from that assumption he believes that
the existence of God is proved beyond a reasonable doubt. This conclusion is
somewhat arbitrary since one could just as reasonably suppose the opposite idea
that the universe that exists is the only possible universe that could exist. However, if
we accept the two presuppositions given above, which are true beyond any
reasonable doubt, then the existence of God follows readily. From what Adler has
demonstrated, we can then conclude that the universe as it exists is not the only
possible universe that could exist. God not only exists but also acts to sustain the
existence of the universe as it is.
I will not discuss theology in greater detail here, but I want to discuss briefly
the relation of the philosophy in this book to belief or disbelief in religion.
The philosophy I am developing is intrinsically compatible with religious
beliefs, although it is not compatible with all religions or all religious beliefs. Since
the principles underlying this philosophy readily lead to a belief in the existence of
God, this philosophy can serve as a foundation for religious beliefs as long as they
don’t contradict the essential principles of this philosophy. For example, in Chapter
II, I presented the idea that all ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible ends. If a
religion asserts that the ultimate ends in life are imperceptible ends, then this
philosophy can possibly serve as a foundation for that religion; if a religion instead
asserts that some ultimate ends are perceptible ends, such as the performance of

certain sacraments or good works, then to that extent this philosophy is incom-
patible with the religion, and a person would have to choose between these
philosophical ideas and the religious ideas that conflicted with them. As another
example, since this philosophy includes modern scientific thought in its structure, a
religion that rejects well-established scientific theories, such as the theory of
evolution, would not be compatible with this philosophy. There is nothing in science,
or in this philosophy, that either proves or disproves the existence of such
imperceptible ends as salvation, a life after death in heaven or on earth, or similar
spiritual goals—these can only be understood through religious faith. I think that
the philosophical ideas in this book are in agreement with the basic spirit of most
modern religious teachings, although they clearly conflict with fundamentalist or
dogmatic religions, which insist on a literal interpretation of scripture or the strict
adherence to specific codes of behavior. Another source of conflict between this
philosophy and religion would be a religious belief in a radical difference in kind
between man and other living things, which is common in Western religious
thought, although the contrary view is common in Eastern religious thought.
Perhaps a great irony is that the second presupposition above, which is the
foundation of Western scientific thought, can ultimately serve as the basis for the
reconciliation of some Western and Eastern religious ideas.
Chapter X
Time, Chance, and the Nature of Scientific Laws

In this chapter I want to discuss two of the most fundamental concepts of modern
physics—time and chance. The concepts of time and chance permeate physics and
all other fields of modern science, as they also permeate our commonsense under-
standing of the world. I will use these two concepts to organize a discussion of the
nature of scientific laws, and in later chapters to organize a discussion of the
theories of modern biology and to explain key concepts in moral philosophy. Also, in
the next few chapters I want to give the reader an appreciation of the essential unity
of the modern natural sciences, a unity that gives compelling impetus to a belief in
the principle of continuity.
The concept of time is basic to modern science and to our everyday life. Every-
one has a commonsense understanding of what time is, but it is an elusive concept
to define exactly. I will therefore expect the reader to use his own commonsense
intuition as to what time is, and will draw his attention to one aspect of it: time
advances forward in only one direction. That is, we have a concept of “past” as that
which has already occurred, the “present” as that which is occurring at this time, and
the “future” as that which will occur at a later time. We expect to get older but we
don’t expect to get younger; we expect the world to progress to some future but we
don’t expect it to return to the past. The directionality of time and our passage
through or with time is an important feature of our commonsense understanding of
the world.
Although these notions appear to be commonsense, some philosophers have
debated this point and have held that our passage through time is an illusion and
that all time essentially exists at the present. This concept is called “determi-
nateness,” and differs from the concept of “determinism” I discussed earlier.
Determinate theories of time date from Parmenides and Zeno in ancient Greece, and
I believe the modern versions may be manifestations of the philosophical errors I
have discussed earlier.
More serious then these objections to the reality of our commonsense notions
114
Time, Chance, and the Nature of Scientific Laws 115
of time are those arising from interpretations of the theories of relativity and
quantum mechanics. However, these are also misunderstandings. A good discussion
of common misinterpretations of relativity and quantum mechanics is given by
Philipp Frank in Philosophy of Science (1957). I will discuss some of the points he
makes.
The concept of time in relativity theory differs from our commonsense notion
of time. In particular, relativity asserts that the measured time will depend on the
speed of the observer and the strength of the gravitational fields in which he is
located. Although I won’t attempt to explain relativity in detail, an example of its
application will illustrate this point. If a clock is taken aboard an airplane as it flies
east or west from one place to another, the time measured by the clock on the
airplane will be slightly different than that measured by a clock that remains on
earth. This is because the speed at which the airplane is travelling is different than
the speed at which the surface of the earth is rotating, and also because the airplane
is in a weaker gravitational field because it is further from the center of the earth. In
experiments carried out by the United States Naval Academy, very precise and
accurate atomic clocks were put aboard two airplanes that were then flown around
the world, one eastward and one westward. When they landed, the clock aboard the
eastward-flying airplane had lost 0.06 microseconds relative to a clock on earth,
while the clock aboard the westward-flying airplane had gained 0.27 microseconds.
Both of these measurements accorded with the predictions of relativity.
If we consider this example of the effect of relativity, we can see that if people
aboard each of these airplanes had simultaneously observed some event occurring
on the earth, then the “time” at which the event occurred would have appeared
different to observers on each of the airplanes, and also different from the “time” at
which the event occurred on the earth. This difference has been used by some to
claim that relativity proves determinism, because if the event occurred at an
“earlier” time for one of the observers it must have been determined that it would
occur “later” for another observer. But this is wrong. The event only occurred once
and was observed by all three observers simultaneously. The error comes from
mixing some of our commonsense notions of time with the more refined notion of
time that is necessary to understand relativity. Relativity does not imply
determinism any more than any law of science implies determinism, and doesn’t
refute our commonsense intuition that time progresses in one direction and that
events in the universe occur uniquely.
A similar error occurs in the interpretation of quantum mechanics. Just as there
is an “uncertainty principle” regarding position and momentum, there is also an
“uncertainty principle” regarding time and energy. One way of stating this principle
is to say that we cannot measure both time and energy exactly, and that if Dt is the
uncertainty in the time and DE is the uncertainty in the energy, then Dt ´ DE

is greater than or equal to h/2π, where h is a constant known as Planck’s constant.

However, just as with the uncertainty principle regarding position and momentum I
discussed in Chapter VI, this interpretation is only one of an infinite number of
possible interpretations of this principle, one that attempts to explain the principle
in terms of concepts that are strictly speaking only applicable to macroscopic
phenomena. In Chapter VI, I pointed out that we could misinterpret the implications
of quantum mechanics if we attempt to apply the macroscopic concepts of position
and momentum to phenomena for which these concepts are not strictly applicable.
We can also misinterpret the implications of quantum mechanics by attempting to
apply the macroscopic concepts of time and energy to phenomena to which these
concepts are also not strictly applicable. Because of such misunderstandings, as well
as a confusion of free will with chance, some philosophers have incorrectly asserted
that quantum mechanics proves the existence of free will. This is incorrect. The
application of quantum mechanics requires a refinement in our concept of time, and
errors can be produced if we mix our commonsense ideas of time with those
required to interpret quantum mechanics.
These mistakes in interpreting the concepts of relativity and quantum
mechanics illustrate the validity of assuming that the greatest reality belongs to the
concepts by which we apprehend the macroscopic world in which we live every day,
and a lesser reality belongs to the concepts by which we apprehend the microscopic
world of small lengths and short times described by quantum mechanics or the
megascopic world of great distances and speed described by relativity. The laws of
physics do not establish a concept of time that invalidates our commonsense notion
that we pass through or with time and that there is a past, a present, and a future.
The concepts of time used in quantum mechanics and relativity are best left to the
philosophers of science who need to clarify these concepts for the advancement of
these fields; if we attempt to apply these concepts to everyday life we are likely to
end up with nonsense.
Intimately related to the concept of time are the concepts of “causality” and
“purposefulness.” We often speak of a “law of causality” as a fundamental principle
of science and an explanation of what science does. But when we look more closely
at the “law of causality,” we see that in fact there is no such law underlying science.
This is discussed by Frank in Philosophy of Science, and the following discussion of
causality and correlation is based in part on the ideas he discusses.
If a “law of causality” is not a fundamental principle of science, than what is it
that scientific laws do? The following gives a good picture of what scientific laws do.
If we define the state of some system at some particular time as A, then a law of
science predicts some future state B at a later time. This appears to be true of all
laws, even laws such as those of geometry and statics that have been thought to be
independent of time—when these laws are examined closely they all involve the

concept of “equilibrium,” which states that if the system is changed slightly it will
return to the “equilibrium” state. Thus, these laws have inherent in them some
notion of time. This is true even in the application of geometry to the physical world;
indeed, the relationship of the laws of geometry to the concept of time has become
even more explicit with the development of the concept of a four-dimensional space-
time that arises from the theory of relativity. As another example, the classification
of species in biology, which appears relatively independent of time, is based not only
on the concept of equilibrium but also on the theory of evolution, a theory which has
inherent in it the notion of time. The idea that scientific laws correlate a state A at
some particular time with a state B at a later time appears to be general.
We can turn to our everyday experiences to develop a better understanding of
this. We generally expect that day will follow night, since our experience has always
been that day follows night. We expect this with a high degree of certainty. We say
that the present state A (night) will lead to some future state B (day), or that the past
state A (night) led to the present state B (day). This is a scientific principle that we
have established from our everyday experience. Another example is our anticipation
that it will rain if we go outside and see that the clouds have become dark and the air
feels heavy. We say that the present state A (dark clouds and heavy air) will lead to
state B (rain), although we are probably less certain that this will be true than we
are that day will follow night. As a final example, we can return to our bakery owner
as he is in the process of hiring a salesgirl. Based on his understanding of the world
and human nature, he is predicting that state A (a salesgirl with certain
characteristics) will lead to state B (a salesgirl who does a good job). He may have a
great deal of uncertainty whether this will actually be true, but in his understanding
of how the world works he is establishing principles just as much as a scientist in a
laboratory is establishing principles.
Now, in all these cases the states A and B are thought of as being some limited
aspect of reality, a simplification of the complicated universe. When we say that day
follows night, we do not speak of “night” as being this particular night with every-
thing happening exactly as it is at this time, but rather we speak of it as a general
concept whose object is some particular set of features that all nights have in
common and that always lead to “day.” We are limiting our concepts of “day” and
“night” to those features that are relevant to the law we are professing. Similarly,
when we say that rain will probably follow upon dark clouds and heavy air, we do
not mean only that the features that are present this particular day will probably
lead to rain, but rather that some general quality that is present this day usually
leads to rain. The bakery owner too is focusing on certain characteristics of the
salesgirl he is interviewing and excluding others in making his judgement that this
person will do a good job. It is this feature of the way we comprehend reality that
most clearly defines what science does. The scientific method is essentially a process
of reduction. All sciences have developed out of our everyday experiences by

focusing on narrower and narrower aspects of reality.

The process of reduction can be illustrated by a simple example. Suppose the
reader goes out to start his car one morning and finds that the engine doesn’t start
when he turns the ignition key. How does he decide what the problem is? He does
this by isolating the different component parts of the starting system and examining
them individually. First, he may test the battery to see if it has a charge. If that isn’t
the problem, then he may check the wire leading to the ignition coil. If that isn’t the
problem, he may check the gas tank, gas line, and carburetor to be sure the engine is
getting gas. By analyzing the operation of the engine in terms of the operation of its
component parts the reader can eventually determine the reason the engine does
not start.
This same process is the basis of all scientific research. The “scientific method”
is the systematic reduction of physical structures and processes to the component
parts of which they are composed. If a physical chemist wants to know how the
volume of a balloon filled with helium gas varies with temperature and pressure, he
first keeps the pressure constant and measures the variation of volume with
temperature, and then keeps the temperature constant and measures the variation
of volume with pressure. He is reducing a potentially complicated process (variation
of volume with both temperature and pressure changing together) to simpler
processes (variation of volume with either temperature or pressure held constant
and the other varying). All good scientific research requires a similar type of
reduction. The reader can imagine how successful he would be in figuring out why
his car does not start if he decided to attack the problem “holistically,” and rather
than testing each component of the engine he just stood there contemplating the
engine as a whole.
The scientific method is essentially reductionism, and scientific laws are simply
correlations of two states in time. However, establishing scientific laws goes beyond
these simple ideas because the determination of the truth or falseness of scientific
theories depends on the first-order philosophy of scientists. When a scientist
decides which theories to adopt, he not only evaluates the results of reductionist
analysis and experimentation, but also considers how a scientific theory helps in
synthesizing the results of numerous observations. Similarly, although established
scientific laws by themselves do not imply notions of causality or purposefulness, a
scientist considers ideas of causality or purposefulness in deciding which laws to
accept. He will accept a scientific law correlating a state A with a state B if and only if
the existence of state A is considered necessary to explain the existence of state B.
So, for example, if a scientist has found that the number of births in an area
increased during the same period of time that an increased number of storks were

sighted, he would not just because of this correlation conclude that an increase in
storks will always lead to an increase in births, or that the presence of the storks
“caused” the births. He would decide this only if the presence of storks was
necessary in order to explain the births. This principle is comparable to the principle
that we accept theoretical constructs as having real existence if and only if they are
necessary to explain observed phenomena.
Just as first-order philosophy is necessary in order to establish scientific
theories, it is also necessary in interpreting them. We impose our ideas of causality
and purposefulness onto the events that scientific laws correlate. This is analogous
to how we impose our ideas of the nature of the things we directly observe in the
macroscopic world onto the entities that science tells us exist in the microscopic and
megascopic worlds.
Thus, we see that first-order philosophy is intimately connected with both the
development and the use of scientific laws. Nevertheless, despite this close
connection, scientific laws by themselves simply state how states are correlated in
time and do not imply anything about the causal or purposeful nature of this
correlation. That requires the addition of philosophical ideas that are based on
common experience. This distinction becomes clear when there is a major shift in
the first-order philosophy of scientists. When Newtonian physics gave way to
Einstein’s relativistic physics, the entire philosophical foundation for interpreting
theories and guiding future research changed dramatically, yet the laws of physics
established by Newton are still correct for many phenomena studied by physics. For
these phenomena, the correlations provided by Newtonian physics have not
changed even though the philosophy underlying their interpretation has.
With this understanding of the nature of scientific laws, we can see more
clearly that thinking in terms of cause is not fundamentally different in kind than
thinking in terms of purpose. Scientific laws merely correlate a state A with a later
state B; when we think in terms of “cause” we are focusing on state A and our
prediction that it will lead to state B, while when we think of “purpose” we are
focusing on state B as the outcome of a state A. Both of these ways of thinking reflect
the more fundamental ideas we have of the directionality of time and the relation-
ship of one state to another that are embodied in scientific theories.
Another important concept that permeates our understanding of science is the
concept of chance or probability. Again, we have a commonsense intuition of what
chance is, and implicit in our notions about how the world works is an estimation of
the probability that the outcomes we predict will occur. For example, when we say
that day will follow night we assign an extremely high probability to this assertion,
for we are virtually certain that this will happen. On the other hand, when we
deduce from dark clouds and heavy air that it is going to rain we only say that it is
“likely” to rain because we recognize that sometimes dark clouds and heavy air

do not lead to rain. When the bakery owner chooses a salesgirl he recognizes the
chance that she may not turn out to be a good salesgirl or that she might decide to
quit, but nevertheless he hires her on the assumption that she will “probably” work
out. Similarly, in our courts of law we recognize that we can never prove beyond any
doubt that a man is guilty of a crime, but only insist that it be proven beyond any
“reasonable doubt.” The concept of probability permeates all our ideas about how
the world works. The importance of the concepts of chance and probability is the
basis of the work of the analytic philosophers in attempting to explicate how our
notions of chance and probability affect our decisions to believe or not believe
certain scientific theories. Although they were wrong in their belief that this is the
only basis on which scientific theories are established, they were correct in assum-
ing that all theories have in them some notion of probability or chance.
When we are taught about the nature of probability we are generally taught
about “statistical laws.” For example, if we toss an unbiased coin in the air we expect
that sometimes it will come up heads and other times it will come up tails. We
cannot predict exactly what will occur after any particular toss, but after many
tosses we can predict that, on the average, half of the tosses will be heads and half
will be tails. This is a common example, and such examples help illustrate the
application of the branches of logic and mathematics known as probability theory
and statistics to problems in the physical world.
The application of statistics seems to give us laws of a unique kind. We contrast
these “statistical laws” that only predict the average outcome of many experiments
with “causal laws” that appear to predict an exact outcome for a particular
experiment. For example, Newton’s laws of motion appear to enable us to predict
exactly the trajectory of a projectile. However, although we seem to be able to
differentiate causal laws from statistical laws in principle, we find that in practice
causal laws require the addition of statistical laws to explain real observations. For
example, while we can in principle calculate the exact trajectory of a projectile given
its initial mass and the magnitude and direction of the force on it, in practice we
cannot measure these parameters exactly but only within ranges. The uncertainty in
the initial conditions leads to an uncertainty in the actual trajectory of the projectile.
This uncertainty is similar to the uncertainty we have in tossing a coin. Similarly to
the tossing of a coin, it is only after making many repeated measurements of the
trajectory of projectiles launched using roughly the same initial conditions that we
are able to achieve results that can be specified exactly using statistical laws.
The distinction between statistical laws and causal laws is discussed by Frank
in Philosophy of Science. As he notes, the more we examine this distinction, the
fuzzier it becomes. The only feature that appears to distinguish “causal laws” from
“statistical laws” is that in principle causal laws allow us to narrow the range of

starting parameters indefinitely to allow us to achieve increasingly precise results.

For example, if we measure the initial mass and force on a projectile more and more
accurately, Newton’s laws of motion imply that we can predict the trajectory more
and more precisely. But how meaningful is this distinction? Events that are
described by statistical laws can also in principle be made more precise; for exam-
ple, if we could define more and more accurately the initial conditions of a coin toss
we could start predicting more and more accurately the likelihood of this toss being
a heads or a tails. Furthermore, events that are described by causal laws cannot
ultimately be totally precise because when we narrow the precision to microscopic
dimensions we must use quantum mechanics, and the laws of quantum mechanics
are given as statistical laws. When examined closely, both causal laws and statistical
laws impose limits that are essentially the same; causal laws and statistical laws do
not appear to be fundamentally different.
The limits that are imposed on the correlations given by all scientific laws can
be explained using the terminology I employed earlier. Rather than precisely
measuring a state A that is unique, we can only determine a set of states containing
the members A1, A2, A3, and so on that we together call state A, and thus we cannot
predict a precise state B but only a set of states containing the members B1, B2, B3,
and so on that we together call state B. This is true for both “causal laws” and
“statistical laws,” which differ only in that the statistical nature of a law is implicit in
a law that is formulated as a causal law, while it is explicit in a law that is formulated
as a statistical law. All scientific laws involve the notion of chance, just as all
scientific laws involve the notion of time.
The permeation of our ideas about how the world works with the notion of
chance and probability has great practical significance as well as being important to
our understanding of science. It has been found by psychologists that the
misunderstanding of statistical principles is a major source of errors in the decisions
we make in our daily lives, and this has been used as the basis of theories in
psychology that attempt to explain why we make errors when we make decisions.
For example, the psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky have developed
a theory about decision-making based on this premise. An introduction to their
work is given by Kevin McKean in Discover (1985); a more detailed discussion is
given in Judgement under Uncertainty (1982), edited by Daniel Kahneman, Paul
Slovic, and Amos Tversky. I will explain their ideas briefly.
Daniel Kahneman had his original insight into the statistical nature of the
errors that people make when he was talking with a group of Air Force flight
instructors. As a psychologist, Kahneman was arguing that the positive rein-
forcement given by praising good performance was more effective in improving
performance than negative reinforcement given by criticizing bad performance.
However, the flight instructors all claimed that exactly the opposite was true:
whenever they criticized a man for bad performance his performance improved, but

whenever they praised him for good performance it got worse. Kahneman realized
that this was just a manifestation of the well-known phenomenon in statistics of
“regression to the mean,” which asserts that any measure of performance will
fluctuate about its mean (or average) value, and that the probability that the
measure will return to the mean is always greater than the probability that it will go
further from the mean. What this means is that even if the performance of a man is
on the average improving steadily he will still have “good” days and “bad” days, and
that after good days his performance is likely to drop off some, and after bad days it
is likely to improve. This will tend to happen regardless of what the flight instructors
say or do. Thus, the observations of the flight instructors were simply what would be
expected from statistics, and their judgement that blame was more effective than
praise was in error because they were correlating their actions only with short-term
effects and not with the proper measure of performance: the long-term rate of
improvement in average performance.
Based on this initial observation, Kahneman and Tversky have developed a
theory that the human mind takes short cuts when it tries to analyze complex
problems. Rather then working through the probabilities of certain events occurring
in a logical fashion, it instead uses representations of outcomes to judge the
probability of certain events. That is, it judges the probability of certain events more
by the picture it has of the event than by a logical analysis of the probability that the
event will occur. Thus, Kahneman and Tversky found that the way that a problem is
posed has a strong effect on the decision that is made. By comparing the way the
mind actually seems to go about making decisions with how it should work if it
worked completely logically, they have developed a theory about decision-making.
As this theory suggests, the ideas of chance and probability permeate all of our
thinking. They are also central to our understanding of how the laws of science
relate to each other, and in particular in what sense laws of lesser generality can be
deduced from laws of greater generality. To understand this we need to be familiar
with some of the principles of statistical mechanics, the laws that allow us to deduce
the macroscopic properties of materials based on their microscopic properties.
Although statistical mechanics is a difficult field, the basic principles are easy to
understand.
Underlying the development of statistical mechanics is the concept of a
statistical ensemble. I will introduce this concept with a highly idealized example.
Let us suppose that two people are playing a game of tic-tac-toe. I will define the
macroscopic state of this game as the number of X’s and O’s that have been played,
and I will define the microscopic state as the specification of the exact position of the
X’s and O’s. Using these definitions, the microscopic states that correspond to a
system in the macroscopic state of there being two X’s and one O will include the
following:

X│O│X O│X│X X│X│O │ │

│ │ │ │ │ │ X│O│X
│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │
│ │ │ │ X│ │ O│ │
O│X│X X│X│O O│ │ X│ │
│ │ │ │ X│ │ X│ │
X│ │ X│O│ O│X│ X│X│

X│ │ │ │X │ │X │ │O
O│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │
│O│ │ │ X│X│ │O│

X│ │X O│ │ │ │ X│ │
│ │ │X│X │ │O │ │X

and so on until we have specified all possible combinations of two X’s and one O.
This collection is a statistical ensemble: a statistical ensemble is the collection of all
the microscopic states of a system that correspond to a given macroscopic state. This
is an idealized example in that what I have defined as the macroscopic state and the
microscopic state are both directly observable, and the microscopic state is not
much more complex than the macroscopic state. But even this simple example
illustrates one of the main features of statistical ensembles: a great number of
microscopic states correspond to a given macroscopic state. In this example, there
are 252 microscopic states that correspond to the macroscopic state of there being
two X’s and one O.
When the concept of a statistical ensemble is applied to real situations in which
the macroscopic state is one that is directly observable in the macroscopic world
and the microscopic state is one of much smaller dimensions and includes entities
that cannot be directly observed, then the number of microscopic states corre-
sponding to a particular macroscopic state is huge. As an example, we can take as
the macroscopic state a gas confined to a particular volume—helium gas confined
within a balloon, for instance. The macroscopic state of this system is defined by the
pressure, volume, and temperature of the gas; the microscopic state is defined by the
position and momentum of every gas molecule within the volume. The number of
microscopic states corresponding to a given macroscopic state in this example is
vast—many times greater than 1071. This is an incredibly large number, particularly
when we realize that the total number of protons and neutrons in the universe has
been estimated by physicists to be about 1080. For practical purposes, the number of
microscopic states in the statistical ensemble corresponding to a given macroscopic
state is infinite.

Although we can determine and describe the macroscopic state of the balloon
quite adequately by measuring and specifying the pressure, volume, and
temperature, it is impossible to determine or describe the microscopic state exactly.
We cannot determine the position and momentum of every gas molecule—it is far
too complex. In spite of this, we can use statistical mechanics to predict what the
macroscopic properties of the system will be given what we know about the
microscopic properties of the components of the system. In this case, we can use the
properties of the helium atom to predict the properties of a volume of helium gas.
This is what statistical mechanics does: it relates macroscopic properties of a system
to the properties of the components of the system, and it does this through the idea
of a statistical ensemble and the application of statistical laws. We need to use
statistical laws because the exact specification of the microscopic states is too
complex.
These ideas of statistical mechanics can be used to develop a clearer idea of
what chance is. We note that the number of microscopic states corresponding to a
given macroscopic state is huge—many times greater than 1071 in the case of the
helium gas. Thus, the probability that any one of these states exists is virtually
zero—less than one in 1071 in the case of the helium gas. Yet one of these states does
exist. We cannot begin to predict which state exists from the information we have
available, but one state does exist. When things exist that have virtually zero
probability of existing, then we say that the thing exists by chance, and that the
particular microscopic state that actually exists is a chance event. This does not
imply that the existence of the state is inexplicable or violates any laws of physics,
but rather that we do not have the ability to predict it because the information
required is too vast. Chance is not a reflection of the lack of determinism, and it is
not in any sense a measure of the effect of free will on the universe. Rather, chance is
simply a concept that reflects the limits of our ability to predict events. Chance
events are governed by the same physical laws that govern all events, but they are
events that, to the best of our ability to predict, have virtually zero probability of
occurring. In the case of the helium gas, the macroscopic state is predictable and we
don’t consider changes in pressure, volume, or temperature to be chance events, but
the microscopic state that exists at any moment is beyond our ability to predict and,
because of this, is a chance event.
This is an important point to understand: the idea of chance, and its expression
in probability theory and statistical laws, does not imply that an event is not deter-
mined by the physical laws governing that event, but rather it simply implies that
the event is too complex to be determined exactly. A chance event is not an event
that results from the action of the will—although the two types of events are both
unpredictable, they are unpredictable for different reasons. A chance event given by
the state B is unpredictable because the state A that would need to be measured to
predict state B is too complex to be measured. A willed event given by the state B is

unpredictable because we cannot at any time know all the principles that are
necessary to predict state B from a given state A—from the equivalence of causal
and purposeful thought we know that at the instant of action the object of our
decision about what to do is the same as the object of our understanding of the
result of that action, so the existence of free will means that the scientific principles
we believe at any one time are imperfect and will change, that change being itself an
act of will. As Mortimer J. Adler points out in Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985), and
Philipp Frank points out in Philosophy of Science, the actions of the will do not
reduce to chance events.
With this discussion of the key ideas of time and chance completed, I want to
discuss a basic law of physics that will illustrate many of the concepts that I have
discussed up to now. I will discuss the well-known second law of thermodynamics.
In 1850 Rudolf Clausius first formulated what would come to be known as the
second law of thermodynamics when he was studying heat engines. He stated the
law as follows: heat cannot pass spontaneously from a body of lower temperature to
one of higher temperature. Another way of stating this is: we cannot devise a
refrigerator that will operate without the input of energy—we must use energy to
cool a body to a lower temperature than its surroundings. We encountered this
principle when we considered the problem of Maxwell’s demon. After further work
over the next fifteen years, Clausius was able to develop the concept of entropy as a
measurable property of a system, which allowed the second law to be used
quantitatively. He restated the law as follows: the total entropy within an isolated
system does not decrease but always remains the same or increases. An isolated
system is a system that does not exchange energy or matter with its surroundings. In
this form the second law has remained a working tool for many scientists and
engineers.
The second law is a general law that was derived by induction from experi-
mental observations. Later it was shown that the second law can be deduced from
classical mechanics or quantum mechanics by using the principles of statistical
mechanics. This illustrates an important concept: laws of lower generality are in
principle derivable from laws of higher generality, but only through the use of
statistical analysis.
The derivation of laws of lower generality from laws of higher generality is
useful in confirming the laws of lower generality, but in addition, such a derivation is
useful because it helps “explain” the laws of lower generality. For example, when the
macroscopic property of entropy is compared with the microscopic analysis from
which the second law is derived, it can be seen that entropy is a measure of the
“disorder” or “randomness” of the system. The second law thus states that an
isolated system always tends towards a state of greater disorder and never sponta-

neously becomes more highly ordered. The derivation of the second law of thermo-
dynamics from the principles of classical mechanics or quantum mechanics, along
with the principles of statistical mechanics, confirms the second law and provides an
explanation of what the second law does.
I will use the following example to illustrate what the second law means at the
microscopic level—this type of example is commonly used to illustrate both the
second law and the application of statistical mechanics. Let us imagine a box with a
divider in the middle. On one side of the box we place red balls and on the other side
we place blue balls; in addition, we continuously shake the box. This is a model
representation of two gases separated by a wall—we use the balls to represent the
molecules of the gases, and we shake the box to give a motion to the balls that is
typical of gas molecules. As long as there is a divider between the two sections the
balls will remain separated, but if the divider is removed, the balls will start mixing.
The situation in which the balls are separated is more highly ordered than the
situation in which they are mixed, and we see that once the divider is removed, the
balls will eventually become completely intermixed. Furthermore, once they have
become completely intermixed, they will not spontaneously separate again. This is a
reflection at the microscopic level of what the second law of thermodynamics
predicts: an isolated system always tends towards a state of greater disorder and
never spontaneously becomes more highly ordered. We have succeeded in
“explaining” the second law in terms of more general principles.
Although the second law of thermodynamics can apparently be derived from
the laws of classical mechanics or quantum mechanics using the principles of
statistical mechanics, it was later discovered that there is a flaw in the derivation. To
understand this flaw the reader should recognize that the second law, as illustrated
by this model example, contains inherent in it the directionality of time. That is,
entropy increases and the system becomes more disordered as time increases, not
as time decreases. However, the laws of classical mechanics are symmetric with
respect to time and space, and the laws of quantum mechanics are symmetric with
respect to time, space, and charge, so it is difficult to see how a direction in time can
be derived from these laws. It was found that the original derivation of the second
law from classical mechanics by Ludwig Boltzmann contained an implicit assump-
tion that, if corrected, does not allow the derivation of a necessary increase in
entropy with time. This paradox worried physicists for some time. It was eventually
solved by Hermann Borsh, who showed that the directionality of time inherent in
the concept of entropy and the second law results ultimately from the expansion of
the system of all galaxies that has been observed by astrophysicists. Thus, strictly
speaking, the second law of thermodynamics is explained by the laws of quantum
mechanics, statistical mechanics, and the astronomical observation that the universe
is expanding.

This derivation of the second law of thermodynamics from laws of greater

generality illustrates how laws of lesser generality are derived from laws of greater
generality using statistical principles. All laws of lower generality are in principle
explainable by laws of higher generality through the application of statistical prin-
ciples. We never completely explain any observation, however, we only understand it
in terms of laws of greater generality. We may have succeeded in explaining the
second law in terms of the laws of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, and
the expansion of the universe, but if we want to know why, say, the universe is
expanding, then we have to talk to the astrophysicists. They may be able to explain it
in terms of the “big bang” theory, but that still leaves unanswered the question of
why there was a big bang. As another example, although Newton was able to account
for the motion of the planets in our solar system, there is nothing in his laws that
requires that the planets all circulate the sun in approximately the same plane and
with the same direction of revolution about the sun. To understand this requires the
theories of the astrophysicists as to how the solar system was formed, and again we
can continue to work back until we arrive at their theories about the formation of
the universe. Ultimately, at some point we have to accept that things are the way
they are just because that is the way they are.
Thus, we see that science is limited in explaining things in several fundamental
ways. The first is that phenomena eventually get too complex to be explained exactly
and we must resort to the notion of chance. For example, all the events that occurred
prior to the reader’s birth were so complex that the probability that he would turn
out exactly as he did was virtually zero prior to his birth. Yet he did turn out exactly
as he did. This is true of essentially everything in the world: science doesn’t tell us
exactly what will happen, it merely provides us with concepts that help us
understand, to some extent, what happens and to predict, with a certain degree of
probability, what will happen. A second fundamental way in which science is limited
is that the actions of the immaterial will are governed by laws outside those that
govern the actions of material entities—although the actions of the will do not
conflict with the laws of science, they cannot be predicted by science. And finally,
science can only explain phenomena in terms of laws of increasingly greater
generality, and eventually this process has to end. At that point we simply have to
accept that certain laws exist, and further insight requires a philosophy that is based
on common experience.
Chapter XI
The Basic Characteristic of Life

In this chapter I will explain how modern science answers the question: what is life?
This question is central to modern biology because it defines the subject matter of
biology. The answer to this question is also basic to our understanding of how the
laws of biology relate to the laws of other fields of science.
In the last chapter I discussed some of the main features of scientific laws when
I discussed the two key concepts of time and chance. I explained that scientific laws
are essentially correlations of states in time, and that whether we think of this
correlation in terms of cause or in terms of purpose makes no difference to the
underlying structure of the law. I also explained how laws of greater generality
relate to laws of lesser generality: although laws of lesser generality could in
principle be deduced from laws of greater generality if one had enough information,
it is not possible in all situations to determine exactly what will happen using the
laws of greater generality because some events are chance events. An event is a
chance event when the amount of information required to predict the event from
laws of greater generality is simply too great.
Although in practice we cannot derive some laws of lesser generality from laws
of greater generality because the events we are describing are too complex to
predict exactly, from the principle of continuity we know that laws of lesser
generality must nevertheless be consistent with laws of greater generality in that
they cannot conflict with valid deductions from these laws. The laws of biology go
beyond what we can in practice deduce from the laws of physics because biology
deals with phenomena that are so complex that they are chance events from the
point of view of physics, so we can only develop the laws of biology from observa-
tions of living organisms. Nevertheless, no laws of biology can conflict with valid
deductions from the laws of physics. Similarly, the scientific laws governing human
beings go beyond what we can in practice deduce from the laws of physics and the
rest of biology, but the laws that govern the actions of human beings cannot conflict
with valid deductions from the laws of physics and biology.
It is in this way that all the fields within modern science are related. We can in
principle arrange all these fields in a hierarchy, with physics at the top and the study
128
The Basic Characteristic of Life 129
of man at the bottom if we view the laws of science in terms of cause, or with the
study of man at the top and physics at the bottom if we view the laws of science in
terms of purpose. Such a hierarchy is necessary if we are to properly define the
subject matter and theories that are appropriate to each field. Each field, and the
sub-fields within it, are defined by the differences in kind between that field or sub-
field and other fields or sub-fields. But the principle of continuity requires that the
differences in kind between all these fields and sub-fields be only superficial
differences in kind. At one time most scientists thought that the different fields in
science were radically different in kind and that there was no direct logical
connection between the concepts of one field and those of another. For example, at
the turn of the century the fields of chemistry and physics were thought to be
fundamentally different and the students of one field rarely studied the subject
matter of the other. Philosophers of science were even able to give what to them was
a self-evident reason why this should be so: physics dealt with quantity, while
chemistry dealt with quality. Now we have the well-developed fields of physical
chemistry and chemical physics, however, and the concepts of physics permeate
much of the study of chemistry. We recognize that there is no fundamental
difference between chemistry and physics and that the laws and theories of one field
are reconcilable with the laws and theories of the other field. A powerful trend in
modern science is the successful development of interdisciplinary fields, and most
natural scientists believe that eventually the scientific study of all aspects of nature
will be based on principles that are reconcilable with the principles employed in all
other fields of science.
Throughout most of the history of modern science it was thought by many that
the discipline of biology was fundamentally different from other disciplines, just as
chemistry was thought fundamentally different from physics. This was true in
ancient and medieval times, but in some ways the perceived difference between
nonliving things and living things was accentuated by the rise of modern science. For
example, in ancient and medieval mechanics the motion of inanimate objects was
considered analogous to the motion of living organisms. A stone fell to the earth
because that was its “natural place” and the stone “desired” to be there; indeed, one
of the theories that was used to explain the known fact that the velocity with which a
stone fell was not constant but accelerated during its fall was that a stone became
more and more jubilant as it came nearer and nearer to the place it desired to be.
The actions of nonliving things were interpreted in terms of concepts that were used
for living things. As I discussed in Chapter IV, the entire universe was conceived as
being similar to a large organism. With the advent of modern physics, however, the
view of the universe shifted from that of a large organism to that of a large
mechanism. With this view the differences between inanimate things and living
beings seemed in some ways to be more pronounced, and it was natural to suppose
that the laws governing living organisms were very different from the laws

governing inanimate objects. It has been only in this century, with discoveries in
such fields as microbiology and biochemistry, that it has been definitively shown
that there is no radical difference in kind between inanimate objects and living
organisms. Indeed, it is difficult to decide if the most primitive of living organisms,
the viruses, should be classified as living or nonliving.
Although the absence of a radical difference of kind between living things and
nonliving things is a vindication of the principle of continuity, it also complicates our
understanding of what life is. If there is no clear separation between living things
and nonliving things, then it is difficult to decide exactly what characterizes life. It is
of central importance to modern biology to define exactly the basic characteristic of
life because this defines the subject matter of biology. An excellent discussion of the
basic principles by which we distinguish living things from nonliving things is given
by Jacques Monod in the first chapter of Chance and Necessity (1971). I will discuss
some of Monod’s insights into this central question of modern biology.
Let us focus on the macroscopic world that we inhabit and try to understand
the difference between nonliving and living objects, and also the related difference
between natural objects and artificial objects. We have a commonsense under-
standing of what these differences are. A stone, a hammer, or a camera are nonliving
objects, while an eye, a bee, or a man are living objects; similarly, a stone, a river, or a
bee are natural objects, while a beehive, a hammer, or a camera are artificial objects.
We might suppose that we could distinguish these different classes entirely on
structural features, but as Monod explains in Chance and Necessity, this does not
appear to be possible and we must examine the history of these objects in order to
distinguish the classes. This is simply a manifestation of the principle that all scien-
tific laws have inherent in them some notion of time.
Thus, in trying to decide what makes an object living or nonliving, and artificial
or natural, we must include an examination of the history of the object. If we exam-
ine our commonsense understanding of “natural” and “artificial,” we readily see that
all artificial objects are nonliving objects that have been fashioned by living objects,
while natural objects are either living objects, or nonliving objects that have not
been fashioned by living objects. This provides a good start at defining natural and
artificial, but to understand these definitions we still need to understand what living
objects and nonliving objects are. And that still proves to be elusive.
If we now examine the historical properties of living objects we note that they
all seem to perform some function, that they are designed for some purpose. We can
readily understand what an eye does, what tasks a bee performs, or the ends
towards which a man directs his actions, but we cannot so readily understand what
function a stone performs or the ends towards which its actions are directed. As
Monod states, every living object is an object endowed with a purpose or project, a
property he calls teleonomy. However, although this property appears to be an
important property of living objects, it is also a property of artificial objects. We can

readily understand what a camera does, what tasks a hammer performs, or what
purpose a beehive is constructed for. Teleonomy appears to be a necessary property
of living objects, but it does not appear to be a sufficient property since it doesn’t
distinguish living objects from artificial objects.
If we now examine living objects more closely, we note that another important
property they possess is that they appear to be self-constructing; that is, the
information that determines their structure comes from within the object and not
from outside of it. For example, an eye, a bee, or a man appear to be fashioned
largely from forces inside of it, with only some restraint and modifications imposed
by external forces. On the other hand, a camera, a hammer, or a beehive are largely
fashioned by forces outside of the object, with only some restraints and modifica-
tions imposed by the materials from which they are constructed. If we examine this
more closely, we find that the information for constructing a living object comes
from other living objects that possess nearly the same structure. A man develops
from information received from other human beings, a bee develops from informa-
tion received from other bees, and an eye develops in an organism from information
received from other organisms that also possess an eye. Monod calls this property of
living objects invariant reproduction, or more simply, invariance. Invariance appears
to be a necessary property of living objects, but it is not sufficient by itself to
distinguish living objects from nonliving objects. As an example, we find that if we
drop a small crystal of salt into a saturated solution of salt water, then larger crystals
of salt will grow spontaneously. Salt crystals thus appear to have the property of
invariance and yet are not living. Similarly, after a man dies he still possesses the
property of invariance, but we no longer say that he is living. What appears
necessary to distinguish living objects from nonliving objects is to say that living
objects possess the properties of both teleonomy and invariance, and if an object
possesses both of these properties it is living.
The possession of both the property of teleonomy and the property of
invariance is intrinsic to the nature of living objects. However, Monod recognizes
that we have a dilemma: the postulate of objectivity, which asserts that all scientific
laws must be interpreted in terms of cause and not in terms of purpose and which
Monod believes is a fundamental principle of scientific research, appears to reject
the concept of teleonomy as valid. However, Monod is incorrect in believing that the
postulate of objectivity is a fundamental principle of scientific research; the funda-
mental principle is the principle of continuity, not this “postulate of objectivity.” As
we have seen, it is perfectly valid to think in terms of purpose when describing the
physical world. When these points are considered the dilemma that Monod presents
seems to be more apparent than real. When we examine the issue more closely,

however, we find we still have a problem: although it is valid to think in terms of

purpose we have also said that thinking in terms of purpose is no different than
thinking in terms of cause. Thus, when we assert that living objects are objects
endowed with a purpose we appear to be saying nothing at all, since the actions of
all objects can be described in terms of purpose. This is a valid objection, and we will
have to refine our concept of teleonomy.
As I explained earlier, when we establish scientific laws we are in effect
correlating a state A with a later state B. Since we describe the actions of an object in
terms of the laws governing its actions, we see that our description will be a set of
correlations. If we describe the actions of the organism completely, then we will
have a very large number of correlations in this set. We can equate this set of
correlations with the object’s teleonomy, so we define the teleonomy of an object as
the set of all correlations required to describe the actions of the object. In so doing
we have eliminated the concept of “purpose” from the definition of teleonomy, and
we now have a property that can be applied equally to both nonliving and living
objects. I will show shortly that this way of defining teleonomy is consistent with the
commonsense notion of teleonomy that we developed earlier.
Having defined an object’s teleonomy as the set of correlations required to
define the object’s actions, we can see that the number of correlations required to
describe the actions of an object will vary from object to object. We can define what
Monod calls the “teleonomic level” of an object as the amount of information (or
number of correlations) required to describe the actions of the object. Although
Monod only applies this concept to living objects, with the definition we have given
of teleonomy we can apply it to both living and nonliving objects. Thus, a stone has a
lower teleonomic level than an ant, which in turn has a lower teleonomic level than a
snake, which in turn has a lower teleonomic level than a dog, which in turn has a
lower teleonomic level than a man. The teleonomic level indicates the complexity of
the actions of the object.
If we look more closely at the property of invariance we see that it too can be
applied to both living objects and nonliving objects. A self-constructing crystal is an
obvious example of a nonliving object that has the property of invariance, but all
nonliving objects when reduced to their basic components consist of atoms and
molecules, and atoms and molecules are inherently self-constructing since they
contain within themselves the information necessary to define their structure. With
this observation we can define the invariance of an object as the set of correlations
required to define the structure of the object. In principle, the number of
correlations required to define the structure of an object will vary from object to
object, so we can define what Monod calls the “invariance content” of an object as
the amount of information (or number of correlations) required to define the
structure of the object. We can apply this definition to both living objects and
nonliving objects. Unlike the teleonomic level, which exists in principle but is

impossible to measure in practice for many objects (at least at this time), the
invariance content is more readily measured in practice. The invariance content of
living organisms corresponds to the genetic information contained in its
chromosomes, while for crystals it is the set of parameters necessary to define the
structure of the crystal.
We have now defined teleonomy and invariance such that these properties are
attributable to both living and nonliving objects, and correspondingly we have
defined the teleonomic level and invariance content as the amount of information
required to determine these properties. The crucial observation at this point is that
the teleonomic level is not necessarily of the same magnitude as the invariance
content. For nonliving objects they are essentially of the same size—it requires no
greater amount of information to describe the actions of a stone than it does to
define its structure. But for living objects the teleonomic level becomes far greater in
magnitude than the invariance content; for example, while the genetic invariance
content is about the same in a dog as in a man, the teleonomic level of a man is far
greater than that of a dog. This is the essential difference between living objects and
nonliving objects. The most primitive “living” objects, the viruses, have a teleonomic
level only somewhat greater than the invariance level, and as we move up the
evolutionary scale this difference in magnitude becomes more and more
pronounced.
This insight into the essential difference between living objects and nonliving
objects also gives us an insight into the application of our concepts of “cause” and
“purpose.” When the actions of an object are very complex relative to the informa-
tion needed to define the object we inherently try to understand the actions in terms
of purpose, but when the actions of the object are fairly simple relative to the
information needed to define the object, we more readily understand the actions in
terms of cause. We easily recognize a man when we see him, but his actions are
complex and we interpret them mostly in terms of the purpose of the actions rather
than in terms of their cause; we also easily recognize a stone when we see it, but its
actions in falling to the ground do not seem so complex as the actions of a man, and
we more readily interpret the actions of the stone in terms of cause. When we say
that living objects are objects endowed with a purpose, we are really saying that the
actions of living objects are very complex relative to the information needed to
define and classify them.
As science progresses, complex actions are understood in terms of concepts of
ever increasing simplicity, so with each new advance we tend to perceive the events
in the world more in terms of cause and less in terms of purpose than we did prior
to the advance. The illusion that science implies that the world ought to be
understood only in terms of cause rather than in terms of purpose arises because of
this phenomenon—with each advance in science the world suddenly seems to be

more explicable in terms of cause than it did prior to the advance. The whole
fallacious idea that science implies a “law of causality” is a result of this illusion. The
conflict between the practical explication of the laws of biology and this fallacious
“law of causality”—or “postulate of objectivity,” as Monod calls it—results because
biology studies such complex phenomena. The essential difference between living
objects and nonliving objects is that the amount of information required to define
the actions of living objects, unlike that required to define the actions of nonliving
objects, is much greater than the information required to define their structure.
Monod essentially states this in Chance and Necessity, but since he has not resolved
the epistemological contradiction that the “postulate of objectivity” seems to imply
that it is incorrect to describe objects in terms of purpose, he is unable to offer as
refined a definition as we have been able to develop here.
The two properties of teleonomy and invariance are central to an
understanding of modern biology. At the molecular level, teleonomy is embodied in
the proteins, while invariance is embodied in the nucleic acids. Nucleic acids are
large macromolecules that contain the genetic information of a cell. They are formed
by the linear polymerization of small molecules called nucleotides, of which there
are chiefly four: adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine (a fifth, uracil, is also
common, and there are a few minor variants of these nucleotides). An adenine unit
spontaneously forms a noncovalent association with thymine, while guanine
associates with cytosine. In a deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) chain two strands of
these polymerized nucleotides are joined by means of these associations, so the two
strands are complements of each other: adenine on one strand is associated with
thymine on the other, and guanine with cytosine. The DNA in each cell contains all
the information necessary to code for the proteins that are required by the
organism; although each cell uses only a part of the information encoded in the DNA,
almost every cell in an organism contains a complete set of DNA in the chromosomes
of its nucleus. The DNA codes for the proteins of the cell through the genetic code: a
group of three nucleotides codes for one particular amino acid in a protein chain.
The amino acids are the units of a protein molecule, which is formed by the linear
polymerization of these small molecules through the molecular mechanism by
which the DNA code is translated. There are essentially twenty amino acids (with a
few rare variants), some of which are hydrophobic and do not mix with water, and
others of which are hydrophilic and do mix with water. Because of this property of
the amino acids, a protein will spontaneously form a specific three-dimensional
structure when it is in the water solution that exists in all cells, with the hydrophobic
amino acids in the interior and the hydrophilic amino acids on the exterior of the
globular protein. There are also other types of proteins in addition to the globular
proteins, such as the fibrous proteins that make up much of the structure of the
body.
The proteins govern all the activities of the cell and form the main structural

components of an organism. Just as a protein spontaneously forms a specific three-

dimensional structure upon translation, so do groups of proteins spontaneously
assemble into more complex structures, and this continues until proteins form cells,
cells form organs, and organs form organisms. In a sense, the whole process of
growth and differentiation of an organism is at the molecular level equivalent to the
spontaneous growth of a salt crystal. In addition to forming the structure of the
organism, the proteins also mediate all the chemical reactions within the cell that
absorb food materials, metabolize them, and eliminate waste products. The entire
molecular machinery of life is extraordinarily precise and efficient. It is also a
testament to the underlying continuity of all life, for the chemical machinery is
essentially the same for all living organisms: viruses, bacteria, plants, nonhuman
animals, and man. All living organisms without exception are composed of these two
principle classes of macromolecules, proteins and nucleic acids, and in all organisms
without exception the same sequences of reactions are used for the essential
chemical operations of metabolism and the construction of cellular components.
The properties of teleonomy and invariance, which are expressed at the
microscopic level in the proteins and nucleic acids, permeate the study of biology at
all levels. In the study of inanimate objects we do not make such a pronounced
distinction between teleonomy and invariance, even if these properties are
applicable to inanimate objects, because the amount of information required to
define each of these properties is roughly comparable. But in the study of living
objects the amount of information required to define each of these properties differs
significantly, and an awareness of both of them becomes of fundamental importance.
Chapter XII
Evolution and Sociobiology

The ideas I have discussed in the last two chapters are basic to the study of the
evolution of life on this planet. Evolution has implicit in it the notion of time, the
directionality of time in particular; the notion of chance is inherent in the produc-
tion of the variations in organisms upon which natural selection works; and the
concepts of teleonomy and invariance that underlie our understanding of the nature
of life are central to evolution. In most explanations of the principles of evolution,
teleonomy is called phenotype and invariance is called genotype. Phenotype and
genotype, which are philosophically more neutral terms than teleonomy and
invariance, are only applied to living organisms. The genotype is the particular set of
genes possessed by the organism, while the phenotype is the actual expression of
this genotype in the structure and activities of the organism. Historically, the
phenotypes of organisms were first studied, since these are the macroscopic struc-
tures that are directly observable by us.
Aristotle made the first systematic classification of living objects. In general, he
classified all things as either animal, plant, or mineral. He further divided animals
into human beings and nonhuman beings, and said that the thing that distinguishes
human beings from nonhuman beings is that human beings have an intellect and are
capable of conceptual thought. Such a classification of the objects of our apprehen-
sion still pervades the commonsense understanding we have of everyday life.
However natural this classification is to our commonsense thought, the
immense work of those who established the classical fields of zoology and paleon-
tology have shown that the biosphere is infinitely richer and more complex than had
ever been imagined in ancient times. We still divide living objects into the main
kingdoms of plants and animals, but within these two main divisions we have
numerous phyla, classes, orders, families, genera, and species, and for that matter,
sub-kingdoms, superclasses, and so on. Not only have biologists found that the types
of living organism are much more varied than had been imagined, but they have also
found that the more they study the structures of these organisms the less able they
are to see clear divisions between the different phyla, classes, orders, families,
genera, species, and so on. The mosaic of life does not appear to consist of definitive
136
Evolution and Sociobiology 137
classes clearly separated from each other, but instead shows a gradual merging of
structures from one class to another. With the development of microbiology and
eventually virology even the distinctions between animals and plants, and between
living organisms and nonliving things, were found to be unclear—there is a gradual
merging from animals to plants, and from living things to nonliving things.
Charles Darwin understood the basic continuity underlying this complex
mosaic of types of life, and using his careful observations of the various forms of life
on one particular island, he formulated the theory of evolution that he presented in
1859 in his Origin of the Species by Means of Natural Selection. This theory, now
firmly established as the central framework for modern biology, asserts that all the
species of life that we observe on this planet developed step by step from the
production of phenotypes with varying characteristics within every species and the
subsequent natural selection of those phenotypes most fit for survival in the
environment in which the species finds itself. Even man, thought since ancient times
to be radically different in kind from the plants and animals with which he shares
this planet, was found to be a product of this step by step evolution, as Darwin
argues in Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, which he published in
1870. In this work Darwin also introduces the notion of sexual selection as
complementary to natural selection. The underlying continuity of life, which is not
immediately apparent to the casual observer of the living objects he directly
observes in his everyday life, was apparent in the multitude of life-forms that had
been discovered and classified by biologists. Darwin’s theory found ready accept-
ance among many biologists, although it was also fiercely attacked by some
scientists and many supporters of orthodox religious beliefs.
In the modern theory of evolution, the concepts of phenotype and genotype are
both crucial. It is the phenotype upon which natural selection works, but it is the
genotype that contains the information that is passed on to future generations. We
now know that there is no possible mechanism by which the effects of the environ-
ment on the phenotype of an organism can be reflected in its genotype; rather,
natural selection works by selecting those phenotypes most fit to pass on their
genotypes to future generations. Thus, an absolute necessity for evolution is that
there be a variation in the genotypes and phenotypes of each succeeding generation;
on the average it is the most fit of these varieties that survive to pass their genotypes
on to the next generation. The major source of this variation in most species is
sexual reproduction, by which process the offspring of each generation receive their
genotypes half and half from two members of the previous generation. But this
source of variation is not by itself sufficient to explain evolution as it cannot account
for the differentiation of new species (a species is defined as a group within which
members mate but outside of which they do not). The additional source of

variation is the small but significant number of mutations within the genotypes of
each generation that are passed on to the next generation.
The theory of evolution has now been substantiated at the molecular level, and
this in turn shows that evolution can be understood as deducible in a logical sense
from the fundamental principles of physics. The process of forming the phenotype of
an organism from its genotype is the process of translation of the genetic informa-
tion encoded in the deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) of the organism to form proteins
and the subsequent assembly of these proteins into the component parts of the
organism, while the process of passing on the genotype to future generations is the
process of replication of the DNA, division of this DNA in meiosis, and recombination
of this DNA with the DNA of another organism that occurs in sexual reproduction to
form the genotype of the new organism. The sources of the mutations in the
genotype are small chance errors in the replication of the DNA that are then
transmitted through meiosis and recombination to the offspring of the organism.
The frequency of any specific mutation is so low that no useful prediction of the
probability of any particular mutation can possibly be made; each mutation is a
chance event, an event that has virtually zero probability of occurring. Because of
this it is impossible to predict the exact course of evolution. Once these chance
mutations occur, however, there is virtually a zero probability that they will be
reversed, and this irreversibility means that virtually every mutation that occurs will
be preserved in future replications of the DNA. This chance of mutation followed by
the necessity of it being preserved (the idea of “chance and necessity” discussed by
Monod) is a reflection at life’s most fundamental molecular level of the second law of
thermodynamics. The second law guarantees that an isolated system tends to
become more and more disordered; in other words, chance events do not reverse
themselves. The second law can in turn be derived from the principles of quantum
mechanics and statistical mechanics together with the observed expansion of the
system of all galaxies. Evolution is the biological expression of these fundamental
principles of physics, and the directionality of time in evolution is the same as the
directionality of time we perceive in all physical processes.
The idea that life inherently obeys the second law of thermodynamics requires
some explanation, since this has been a concern for many scientists. Living organ-
isms are, after all, highly ordered structures, so at first glance it seems hard to
understand how they can function in accordance with the principle that there is a
continuous increase in disorder in the universe. Nevertheless, experiments growing
bacteria in isolated containers, as well as all the work that has been done studying
the chemical reactions within living cells, conclusively show that living organisms do
not violate the second law. The increase in order within living organisms is at the
expense of the order of the surrounding environment, and in an amount exactly as
predicted by the second law.

A second point that needs to be clarified is how mutations that have a low
probability of occurrence can cause the substantial changes we see in evolution.
Because the process of replication is highly accurate, the probability of a mutation in
any particular gene is exceedingly small; nevertheless, since the number of genes in
any organism is also very large, the probability is fairly high that there will be
mutations in some of the organisms of each generation. For bacteria billions of cells
can develop in a short time in a small amount of water, so it can be seen that the
total number of mutants can be quite large. In higher organisms the number of
members of each generation is much smaller, but the number of cells produced in
the process of forming the geminal cells that are used in sexual reproduction is also
very large, and the probability that there will be some mutation in the geminal cells
is relatively high. Most mutations are not helpful to the organism, however, but
instead hurt its chances to survive and reproduce—the major source of variation
leading to superior genotypes and phenotypes results from the mixing of genes
during sexual recombination. Nevertheless, the variations that ultimately lead to
evolution of new species come from the few rare mutations that are advantageous to
the organism.
As discussed before, a basic necessity for evolution to occur within a species as
well as from one species to another is that there be this variation in phenotypes and
genotypes within each generation. Otherwise, there is nothing on which natural
selection can operate. The characteristics that are expressed in the phenotype
include the physical structure and behavior of the organism. What most decidedly
separates animals from plants is that animals display a far more complex set of
behaviors than do plants, and the term behavior is rarely applied to the action of
plants. It is of course impossible to completely separate structure from behavior, but
in general we can say that as we progress from the most primitive animals to the
most highly advanced animals, behavior becomes an increasingly more important
aspect of the variation in each generation and subsequent natural selection. There
was some evolution of the body of Homo sapiens from the hairy stooped posture of
our primate ancestors to the relatively hairless body and upright stance of modern
man, but the most remarkable evolution was that of the brain and central nervous
system, which resulted in the great diversity of behavior that present-day Homo
sapiens exhibits. The study of the evolution of higher organisms increasingly
becomes the study of the evolution of their behavior.
When we analyze the behavior of an organism we tend to think in two ways
about it. We either think about the immediate cause of the behavior, or we think
about its purpose. For example, if we analyze a person eating an apple, we can say
that he is biting the apple and chewing the piece he bit off because his brain sent a
signal down to his arm and hand to pick up the apple and bring it to his mouth, and
then to the mouth and jaw to start biting and later chewing, all of which also
requires the coordination of the eyes in locating the apple and the saliva glands in

secreting fluids to help digest the apple. This type of analysis can rapidly become
quite complex. Another way of viewing the behavior is to say that the person is
eating the apple because he is hungry and needs nourishment. Although we could
carry this explanation further (by asking, for example, why he is hungry and needs
nourishment), this explanation appears somewhat simpler. As I discussed earlier, it
is inherently impossible to completely disconnect our thinking in terms of cause
from our thinking in terms of purpose because they are simply two ways of viewing
the same reality, but we can understand the situations in which we appear to think
more in terms of purpose than in terms of cause: we do so in situations where the
underlying reduction to component parts is very complex. It is because of the
complexity of biological organisms that the concept of purpose seems to pervade
biology. In the early history of physics the behavior of inanimate objects appeared
complex and was also analyzed in terms of purpose.
In understanding the evolution of behavior this concept becomes crucial, for
behaviors are complicated and difficult to reduce to their immediate causes. When
we discuss the purpose of a behavior in evolutionary terms we are explaining the
reasons the behavior helps the organism ultimately to reproduce its genotype; this
explanation in conjunction with the theory of evolution and natural selection then
results in a reductionist explanation of the behavior. An explanation of a behavior in
terms of its immediate causes is called an explanation in terms of proximate cause,
while an explanation of a behavior in terms of its ultimate effect on the fitness of the
organism to reproduce its genotype is called an explanation in terms of ultimate
cause. Both explanations are “causal” in the more accurate sense I discussed earlier
of being correlations of a state A at a particular time with a state B at a later time;
the difference is primarily a difference in the time elapsed between the two states.
Proximate causes are correlations on the same time scale as that during which the
behavior occurs, while ultimate causes are correlations on the time scale of the
evolution of the behavior. The latter can be over millions of years.
In addition to discussing behavior in terms of proximate cause and ultimate
cause, we can discuss it in terms of its developmental or evolutionary history. The
development of the behavior during the lifetime of the organism is called its
ontogeny, while the development of the behavior during the evolution of the
organism is called its phylogeny. The difference between these two types of expla-
nations and explanations in terms of proximate and ultimate cause is that ontogeny
and phylogeny involve multiple sets of correlations over longer periods of time than
proximate cause and ultimate cause. Ontogeny requires multiple sets of correlations
over the lifetime of the organism, while phylogeny requires multiple sets of corre-
lations over the entire evolutionary history of the organism.
These different ways of analyzing the behavior of organisms all serve to
increase our understanding of it. To completely understand behavior we need to

understand it in terms of proximate cause, ultimate cause, ontogeny, and phylogeny.

When we are studying the behavior of an individual organism, particularly when we
wish to understand the ways in which that organism is unique or different compared
which other members of its species, explanations in terms of proximate causes or
ontogeny tend to be more powerful. For example, if we wish to know why a
particular songbird sings its mating song slightly differently than most other
members of its species, it is rather useless to ask what the adaptive significance or
evolutionary history of the song is; instead, we need to understand the immediate
causes for this difference or past events in the bird’s life that led to this difference.
Similarly, if a human being has a personal problem and goes to a counselor, it is
usually more useful to examine immediate or past events in the person’s life than it
is to examine the adaptive significance or evolutionary history of the person’s
behavior. When we are studying the average behavior of large numbers of organ-
isms, however, explanations in terms of ultimate cause or phylogeny tend to be more
powerful. If we wish to know the reason most songbirds sing their mating song the
way they do, we need to understand the adaptive significance and evolutionary
history of that song, and explanations in terms of immediate cause or past events in
the lives of the birds would be much more difficult. Similarly, if we wish to know why
most people behave in a certain way, we need to ask what the adaptive significance
and evolutionary history of that behavior is, and it is not as helpful to study the
immediate causes and individual histories of many different people. In practice, the
two approaches are never exclusive (for example, one always defines unique or
different behavior in relationship to what is considered the norm), but in general we
should seek explanations of average behaviors in terms of ultimate cause and
phylogeny, and we should seek explanations of unique or exceptional behavior in
terms of proximate cause and ontogeny.
Zoologists and population biologists have long studied the behavior of animals,
and their fields have recently merged to create the new field of sociobiology, which
is the systematic study of the biological basis of all social behavior. Since socio-
biology aims at understanding the average behavior of large groups of organisms, its
explanations of social behavior are largely in terms of ultimate cause and phylogeny.
It is closely allied with the field of behavioral ecology, and can be considered a sub-
field of population biology. The analogous field that studies the immediate proxi-
mate causes of behavior is the field of integrative neurophysiology, which can be
considered a sub-field of cellular biology. Linking sociobiology and behavioral
ecology on the one hand, and integrative neurophysiology and cell biology on the
other, are the fields of ethology (animal behavior) and physiological psychology.
A sub-field within the field of sociobiology is the study of the social behavior of
man. In general, social scientists have attempted to develop general laws of human

behavior by making inductive generalizations based on the individual behaviors of

people or of societies, which is inherently a difficult task. The result has been that
the fields of the social sciences that have attempted to study social behavior have,
with the exception of economics and some sub-fields within the social sciences,
failed to produce any firm and generally accepted paradigms with which to organize
this study. Instead, there have existed a number of competing schools of thought
with mutually incompatible premises. Sociobiology attempts to reformulate the
principles of the study of human social behavior by deduction from principles of the
physical sciences that are of greater generality, which is inherently a far more
powerful and reliable approach to establishing the foundations of the social sci-
ences. In effect we are able to use principles of biology that are logically consistent
with the fundamental principles of the other natural sciences along with the vast
amount of information we have collected on the behavior of animals to guide us in
the study of the behavior of man.
Although sociobiology provides a conceptual framework for all of the social
sciences, not all of the fields and sub-fields within the social sciences are equally
amenable to reformulation by the principles of sociobiology. The most amenable are
cultural anthropology and the fields in sociology that attempt to explain the
structure of whole societies. Economics, and the studies in sociology that attempt to
explain isolated sub-groups within society, are less amenable to reformulation, but
ultimately will be brought within the framework of sociobiology. Many of the sub-
fields of psychology that focus on the behavior of individuals are not readily
amenable to analysis in terms of ultimate cause and phylogeny, and scientists in
these fields must resort to explanations in terms of proximate cause and ontogeny.
It must be realized that sociobiology is more than simply another school of
thought for the study of social behavior. Sociobiology merged from fields of biology
that had firm and well-established paradigms, and the paradigm of sociobiology is
also firm, well-established, and logically consistent with the rest of the modern
natural sciences. Any other school of thought that attempts to offer a comprehensive
view of human society that is logically incompatible with sociobiology is most likely
simply wrong. The only logically consistent arguments for any other school of
thought are one of the following: the argument that the difference between man and
nonhuman animals is a radical difference in kind rather than a superficial difference
in kind, the argument that man has no determinate human nature, and the even
more extreme argument that there is no knowable material reality and that our
perceptions of reality are illusions. From all that I have discussed before, it is clear
that all of the possible arguments against sociobiology are untenable.
Nevertheless, there has been a great deal of opposition to sociobiology. We can
understand some of the reasons for this opposition. First, some people misunder-

stand the basic premises of sociobiology, and in particular misunderstand the

distinction between explanations in terms of ultimate cause and phylogeny, and
explanations in terms of proximate cause and ontogeny—what is average behavior
for a large group of people is not necessarily the actual or desirable behavior for any
particular individual. This causes some people to misunderstand the implications of
the principles of sociobiology. Second, we have the professionals in academic
disciplines with incompatible paradigms who, after many years of dedication to a
particular point of view, find it difficult to adopt a new point of view. Third, we have
the humanists who believe that there is a radical difference in kind between animals
and man and who thus reject a priori any scientific understanding of human nature.
Fourth, we have those proponents of free will who mistakenly believe that any
further advances in the science of human behavior supports the metaphysical
doctrine of materialism and thus undermines their position. And fifth, we have those
who adhere to political ideologies that are incompatible with sociobiology, such as
the radical political ideologies based on the doctrines of Marxism.
Related to the criticism of sociobiology is the current debate over “nature”
versus “nurture.” Much of this debate is more an expression of misunderstanding
than an addressing of substantive issues. I think this debate can be clarified by the
following analysis.
To begin, I will give a commonsense example of what we mean when we say a
behavior is “biological” as versus “cultural,” “nature” as versus “nurture,” or what-
ever terms we wish to use. Let us suppose that a man comes to a physician and
complains that he has been tired lately and is not sleeping well. After talking with
the man for a while the physician finds out that the business for which the man is
working is on the verge of bankruptcy and that he is afraid of losing his job. The
physician may readily decide that the problem the man is experiencing is “psycho-
logical,” “social,” “cultural,” “nurture,” or whatever else one might term a behavior
that is the result of the man’s social environment. If the man subsequently finds
another job and immediately feels more energetic and starts sleeping better, the
physician is confirmed in his diagnosis. On the other hand, the physician might find
that the man has recently returned from a trip overseas, and after running tests he
finds that the man has an intestinal parasite. The physician then diagnoses the
problem as “biological,” or “nature,” and if giving the man medicine to eliminate the
parasite results in the man feeling more energetic and sleeping better, the physician
is confirmed in his diagnosis. Thus, we see that we can readily understand the
difference between “biological” and “cultural.” Since we can readily understand
these concepts from common sense, we can immediately reject the opinions of those
who say that all behavior is either “biological” or “cultural.” These people are either
mistaken, or perhaps using these concepts in a way that is different from how we
use them in common sense.

With this in mind, I want to introduce three levels at which the distinction
between “biological” or “cultural” causes of behavior can be understood. Our com-
monsense understanding of the two terms occurs at the second and third levels, but
the first level is critical to our understanding of the other two levels.
At the first level, it must be realized that all behavior is inherently both
biological and cultural at the same time—the two are not absolutely separable. As an
example, let us suppose we wish to examine how different people throw a baseball
at a target. The act of throwing a ball depends on the structure of a person’s hand,
wrist, arm, shoulder, and the rest of his body, as well as the brain that coordinates all
of the actions involved. Thus, a person’s physiology limits the possible ways a ball
can be thrown, and we can use our knowledge of the structure of the body to
establish a system to classify how a person throws a ball. For instance, we can define
overhand throws and underhand throws, throws with a snap of the wrist and with
no snap of the wrist, throws in which the entire body moves during the throw and
throws in which only the arm is used, and so on. But we exclude such possibilities as
throws from the middle of the upper arm or out of the left eyeball as preposterous. A
person’s biology clearly limits the possibilities he has of throwing the ball, and in
fact we use our understanding of his biology to establish a procedure for measuring
throws. At the same time, throwing a ball is something that is learned, and we expect
that the way in which the person throws a ball will be affected by how he has
learned to throw it. He may only have the choice of either overhand or underhand,
but whichever he chooses will depend on his background. Since we have few
behaviors that are completely innate, such as innate reflexes, most behaviors will
have a learned or cultural component. Biological and cultural components are
inextricably interlinked in almost any behavior.
People who misunderstand the distinction between “biological” and “cultural”
at this level make a fundamental mistake. Those who emphasize the biological basis
of man’s actions generally understand the concept of learning, but those who em-
phasize the cultural basis of man’s actions sometimes misunderstand that all actions
also have a biological basis. This mistake is usually a manifestation of the error of
denying that man has a determinate human nature. Not only are we limited by the
physiological structure of our bodies, we are also limited by the physiology of our
brains. Any “human nature” must ultimately have a physiological basis if it is to have
any scientific validity at all, so philosophers and social scientists who deny that there
is any human nature effectively undermine any basis whatsoever for a science of
man. Those who maintain that there is no such thing as a human nature, or that our
behavior is in no sense affected by our biology, simply do not understand science.
At the second level we start comparing the behaviors of different individuals. In
our previous example, we see that once we have established a procedure for

classifying the throws of different people we can go ahead and actually measure the
throws for a number of individuals. We will usually find that they are different to
some extent, and at that point we can start trying to understand why they are
different. Perhaps we find that one boy throws the ball overhand while another
throws it underhand, and we question them as to why they threw it the way they
did. If they explain that their physical education instructors taught them to throw a
baseball that way, we would probably decide that the difference was cultural. Now,
let us compare the throws of another pair of boys: one who throws the ball fast and
straight to the target, and another who is slow and misses the target. On questioning
the two boys we find that they both had the same instructor and have practiced
throwing about the same amount, but we notice that the first boy is strong and well
coordinated while the second one is weak and ill coordinated. We would probably
conclude that the difference was biological. But the question could get more difficult.
Perhaps both boys have about the same physical build and coordination, but we find
that the first boy appears to love throwing baseballs while the second appears to
hate doing so. This is trickier. If we find the first boy has a father who is a sports fan
and encourages his son to excel at sports, while the second boy has a father who
hates sports and tells his son not to not waste his time with them, we may decide the
difference is cultural. But if we find that the backgrounds of the two boys are similar
and that the first boy has always seemed to “like” sports while the second boy has
always seemed to “dislike” sports, we may conclude that the difference is a biological
difference in temperaments. The questions at this level correspond to our
commonsense understanding of “biological” and “cultural” as applied to individual
behaviors, but we should note that these notions always explicitly or implicitly
involve comparing the behavior of one individual with that of another individual or
some average expected behavior. For example, we compare the behavior of a tired
man who visits his physician with the behavior we would normally expect for a man
in his position.
Questions at this level become substantive, but they can in principle be solved
by empirical measurements, although in practice some problems are difficult to
solve. People who misunderstand the issue at this level make one of two mistakes.
First, those who claim that all behavior is “biological” make the mistake of mis-
understanding the limits of scientific deduction. As I have explained, laws of lesser
generality can be deduced from laws of greater generality through statistical
analysis, but when a system reaches a certain level of complexity the actual state
that occurs has a virtually zero probability of occurring and cannot be predicted—
only the general properties of the mostly likely states can be deduced. The events in
the life of a person prior to his coming to us and throwing the baseball at a target are
simply too complex for us to give a complete biological explanation of his behavior.
The concept of “cultural” influences has to be introduced. The second mistake is that

made by some people who claim all behavior is “cultural.” They must assume that
man has no determinate human nature, or, if they accept that man has a determinate
human nature, they must assume that all people’s natures are exactly the same. The
first assumption is clearly untenable, and the second assumption contradicts the
theory of evolution by natural selection: if there are no innate differences in tem-
peraments, talents, and mental capacities, then there would be nothing on which
natural selection could work and we could not account for the rapid evolution and
development of the human brain. The second assumption also conflicts with our
commonsense understanding that people differ in their dispositions, likes and
dislikes, and innate abilities. Those who make this mistake simply don’t understand
modern biology.
At the third level we start asking questions about classes of people. If we find
that all the students from Middletown High throw overhand while all the students
from Uptown High throw underhand, is this cultural or biological? It’s probably
cultural. But if we find the students from Middletown High throw on the average
faster and more accurately than the students from Uptown High, the question of
whether this is biological or cultural becomes more complicated. And if we find that
all the boys in our group throw faster and more accurately than the girls, the
question of whether this is biological or cultural becomes quite a bit more
complicated. Despite the complexity of the problem, however, all these problems are
in principle amenable to rational analysis and empirical evaluation.
Questions at this level are often critical ones with a great deal of importance.
People who make a mistake at this level are those who assume the answer can be
determined without recourse to both experimental and theoretical analysis. The
differences in behavior between different groups are in some cases clearly
biological, in others clearly cultural, and in other cases not clearly one or the other.
Since the causes of specific differences between specific groups are not philo-
sophical questions, but rather scientific questions, they can only be answered by
investigation. Those who misunderstand the issue at this level do not accept the
need to be objective, or have made fundamental mistakes at the other two levels.
It should be clear from the above analysis that anyone who attempts to quantify
the amount of behavior that is “biological” or “cultural” in general terms by saying
such things as “most of our behavior is cultural” or “most of our behavior is
biological” simply does not understand the issues correctly. Any substantive use of
the notions of “biological” or “cultural” to describe behavior implies a comparison of
the behavior of two individuals, of an individual with an average of a group, or of the
average of one group with an average of another group. Thus, any measure of the
amount of behavior that is biological or cultural will depend on what specific
comparisons the person is investigating. A cultural anthropologist who accepts a
specific theory of social structure and is primarily interested in determining the

differences in cultural behavior between different individuals or groups of people

will naturally tend to see most of human behavior as being “cultural,” while a
cultural anthropologist or sociobiologist who is primarily interested in establishing
general theories of social structure, and is therefore looking for the similarities and
regularities between and among individuals or groups of people, will naturally tend
to see most of human behavior as “biological.” A qualifying is only meaningful if the
comparisons one is investigating are specified.
From this analysis, we can see that it is possible in specific cases to define
exactly what behaviors or aspects of behavior are cultural or biological. However,
universal characteristics of behavior—that is, characteristics that can be understood
by general principles or scientific laws as opposed to particular instances of
behavior that can only be understood by history—are intrinsically “biological.”
These universal characteristics are what we call “human nature.” The application of
the principles of sociobiology to the study of man gives us a framework for under-
standing human nature scientifically, which is why evolution and sociobiology are so
important to our understanding of human behavior and human society, and thus to
our understanding of moral philosophy.
Chapter XIII
Sociobiology and Common Sense

Sociobiology rests on the scientific principles I have discussed in the last few
chapters, especially on the theory of evolution. I will discuss the concepts that are
particularly relevant to sociobiology in this chapter. I will also compare the ideas of
evolution and sociobiology with our commonsense notions of human nature. A more
detailed presentation of the principles of sociobiology is given by Martin Daly and
Margo Wilson in Sex, Evolution, and Behavior (1983). Much of the discussion in this
chapter follows that work, although I have added comments and interpretations of
my own.
In the application of evolutionary theory, the concept of “fitness” means the
ability of an organism to reproduce its genes. This concept implies the following:
there are significant variations in the ability of individuals to reproduce their genes
(phenotypic variations), these variations reflect variations in the genes carried by
the individuals (genotypic variations), and natural selection, along with the replica-
tion of genes, division of the genotype, and sexual recombination of genotypes, will
result in the evolution of genotypes and phenotypes that are better adapted to their
environment or will remain in optimal adaptation to their environment. Some
species continue to evolve while other species apparently find a suitable niche and
remain unchanged for millennia. The average or typical phenotype of a stable
species is the most fit phenotype while variations from the norm are less fit—it is
only when the environment of the species is changing over a period of time
comparable to the typical lifetime of the species that atypical phenotypes become
more fit. The fitness of an organism is reproductive success relative primarily to
other members of the same species, and only secondarily to members of other
species.
The concept of fitness and the process of natural selection is illustrated by
the phenomenon of “industrial melanism,” which is the change in the typical
coloring of certain species of moths and butterflies when the vegetation in an area
becomes darkened because of pollution from factories. The members of some
species of moths and butterflies are typically light-colored or white, but there are a
few individuals that are dark-colored or black. When pollution from factories starts
148
Sociobiology and Common Sense 149
changing the color of trees and other vegetation from light to dark, there is a
selective pressure against the white insects and for the black insects because
predators can now recognize the white insects more readily. Eventually the black
insects become typical. If the pollution is later reduced and the trees change from
dark back to light, the selective pressure is reversed and white insects again become
typical. The typical coloring of the insects is the most fit coloring, but when the
environment changes the typical coloring changes. Although the environment is the
force for selection, and the environment includes organisms of different species,
natural selection is primarily the result of competition between the members of a
species and not between members of different species.
The original concepts of evolution were challenged by some because there
appeared to be times when animals did not maximize their reproductive success. For
example, some birds do not lay as many eggs as they appear capable of laying,
worker ants appear to sacrifice their own reproductive success to that of the queen
of the colony, and parents and siblings are apparently willing to risk their own lives
in defense of children or siblings. Nevertheless, studies have shown that although
organisms may appear to restrain their reproduction at times, they do so to
maximize reproduction over their lifetimes. Furthermore, studies of populations of
genes have shown that apparent “altruistic” behavior, the sacrificing of personal
reproductive success for the benefit of relatives, actually maximizes the replication
of the organism’s genes. These observations led to the concept of “inclusive fitness,”
the concept that an organism maximizes the replication of its genes through
promoting not only its own reproductive success, but also the success of
descendants and collateral kin. Behavior that is detrimental to an organism’s own
reproductive success but aids the success of descendants and collateral kin is called
“altruistic behavior,” or “altruism.” Organisms are designed by natural selection to
optimize their inclusive fitness, and they do this by both selfish and altruistic
behavior.
One can understand the behavior of an organism in terms of ultimate cause and
phylogeny by assuming that it adopts a reproductive strategy that promotes its
inclusive fitness, a strategy that balances the time and energy that the organism
invests in self-preservation, mating, parenting, and assisting relatives. The strategy
that is best for one individual to adopt will not be the best for another individual
with a different genotype, nor will the best strategy for an individual be the most
helpful for another individual with a different genotype. Thus, there is always
inherently a conflict of interest between individuals with different genotypes, even if
they are close relatives. The closer two individuals are related (the more genes they
have in common), the more likely it is that the best strategy for each will be similar
and that their best strategies will be helpful to each other. The actual social behavior
of the members of a species is a balance of conflicting interests, with the fitter
individuals achieving reproductive success at the expense of the less fit individuals.

All higher organisms reproduce sexually, with a female sex and a male sex, so
understanding the reasons for sexual reproduction and the differences in behavior
of the two sexes is central to understanding the structure of a society. The first
question we can ask is: why do we have sexual reproduction instead of asexual
reproduction (cloning oneself)? There are costs in time and energy for reproducing
sexually rather than asexually: the cost of meiosis (only reproducing half of one’s
genotype rather than all of it), the cost of recombination (the possible loss of
valuable genes and gene combinations), and the cost of mating (the time and energy
spent in attracting, inseminating, and supporting a mate). The gains from sexual
reproduction must outweigh these costs. The main reason that organisms reproduce
sexually appears to be that it greatly increases the variation among offspring, which
makes the species more adaptable to a changing environment. This can be seen most
readily in a few simple organisms that reproduce both sexually and asexually: they
reproduce sexually as a preparation for moving to new environments that may be
different from the present one, and then reproduce asexually once they are in a
stable environment. One of the environmental constraints that may be particularly
important are the presence of microscopic pathogens such as viruses and bacteria
that evolve rapidly; sexual reproduction may be necessary partially to prevent
decimation of the species by new variants of these pathogens. Another reason for
sexual reproduction is that gametes are produced after many replications of the
original genome, so the use of sexual reproduction will increase the probability that
advantageous mutations will be produced and transmitted to offspring, thereby
enhancing the organism’s ability to evolve.
In addition to the question of why organisms reproduce sexually, there is also
the question of why we have different sexes—a male sex that produces tiny gametes
(sperm) and a female sex that produces large gametes (eggs). Some single-cell
bacteria reproduce sexually but do not have sexes, so it is not absolutely necessary
that there be sexes for there to be sexual reproduction. Why did sexes evolve when
organisms became more complex? Theoretical studies have shown that for
organisms that reproduce sexually without having sexes, there will be a selective
pressure favoring gametes that are larger or smaller than average size and disfavor-
ing those that are close to the average size. As organisms evolve there is a natural
selection for large and small gametes that leads to the development of the two sexes.
Instead of producing gametes of average size, it is a better reproductive strategy to
produce either a large number of tiny, inexpensive gametes with little cytoplasm
(cell materials), or a small number of large, expensive gametes that contain enough
cytoplasm for early growth of the fertilized cell. Moreover, the competition among
the large number of small gametes will tend to increase selective pressure for
beneficial mutants and against detrimental mutants. Sexes appear to be an
inevitable result of sexual reproduction in more advanced organisms.

The differences in behavior of males and females (that is, the average behavior
in large social groups) are the result of differences in the optimal reproductive
strategies for males and females. In mammals, where offspring are gestated for long
periods of time within the females, the reason the reproductive strategies are differ-
ent is readily apparent. Females have a limited ability to produce offspring, so they
generally invest more time and effort in raising offspring than do males. Males, on
the other hand, have the ability to produce a much greater number of offspring than
do females because they can potentially inseminate a large number of females. An
individual can only do so at the expense of other males, however, so there is
inherently greater conflict between males than between females, and males are
therefore more competitive with each other. They compete largely for mates.
Females are less competitive with each other and compete more for nutrients and
other material resources. Differences in the behavior of the sexes are most pro-
nounced when there is a great disparity between the sexes in the amount of time
and energy devoted to the care of offspring, and are reduced when that disparity is
lessened. The differences are quite pronounced in most mammals, although less so
in man than in most other mammals.
Because females bear only a limited number of offspring and invest more time
and effort in raising them than do males, females tend to be more selective than
males. They select a mate primarily on his ability to provide material resources and
the quality of his genes. In species in which the male provides care for offspring the
main concern of the female after insemination will be to prevent the male from
expending resources on other females. Males, on the other hand, tend to be less
selective than females and select a mate primarily on the quality of her genes and
potential fertility. In species in which the males provide care for offspring the main
concern of the male will be to avoid wasting resources on raising another male’s
offspring, which he does by preventing another male from inseminating his mate.
The optimal strategy for a female is to have a single high-quality mate, while the
optimal strategy for a male is to have more than one mate.
An important concept in sociobiology is the sex ratio, the ratio of males to
females in a given population. The sex ratio is generally close to one and is optimized
so that parental investment in the offspring of each sex is about equal in the
population, although in situations in which male siblings compete with each other
for females there is a selective pressure to produce more females. Whenever the sex
ratio deviates from the optimum there is selective pressure for the parents to invest
more time and energy in the sex of which there is less than an optimum number and
less time and energy in the sex of which there is greater than an optimum number.
The concepts of sociobiology are found to be applicable to human societies as
well as the societies of lower animals. All societies have a division of labor by sex

for at least some of the important activities of the society, and in all societies the
family is a fundamental social group. Men are in general more promiscuous than
women, and in the majority of societies polygyny (males having multiple wives) is
practiced, although it is usually limited to a few males. Polyandry (females having
multiple husbands) is rare, and is always accompanied by some form of polygyny.
Men generally have more control over the access of other men to their mates than
women have control over the access of other women to their mates. Men are
generally more competitive with others of their own sex than are women, and they
attain the roles given the greatest power and status in the society. All societies are
thus patriarchal, with the men having greater overt control in individual relation-
ships with women and in the affairs of society. All societies have some sort of formal
marriage between sexual partners and legitimization of offspring, some sort of
recognition of kinship between individuals, and taboos against incest that define
marriageable and nonmarriageable groups of people. Although the structure of
human society reflects differences in male and female behavior that are similar to
the differences in other mammals, these differences are less pronounced than with
most other mammals. In particular, males play a much greater role in raising
children than do males of most other mammal species, probably because of the
much greater amount of teaching and learning in which humans engage.
These are some of the basic principles of sociobiology, principles that have
been firmly established by the work of the animal behaviorists, the consistency of
these principles with the observations of anthropologists and other social scientists,
and most of all the logical coherence of these principles with the whole of modern
natural science. The differentiation between the sexes and their behavior in a sense
follows logically from the laws of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, and the
observed expansion of the universe: evolution is essentially the embodiment of the
second law of thermodynamics in the biosphere, and the second law is in turn a
reflection of these fundamental laws of physics.
When we examine these principles we also find that there is nothing in them
that violates our common sense, at least not the commonsense understanding of
ordinary people. As much as some people would like to believe that humans are
naturally kind and loving, as they undoubtedly are at times, we also know that they
can be cruel and ruthless—conflict of interest is a basic fact of life. We also under-
stand that there is a difference between men and women and that our ideas of
masculinity and femininity, and male and female functions, are related somehow to a
difference in the nature of males and females. We instinctively understand that, on
the average, men tend to attach a greater importance to their careers and status
while women have a greater interest in raising their children and managing family
life. And we instinctively recognize that members of the same family and close
relatives have a bond that is closer than that which they have with most strangers.

None of the principles of sociobiology give us a picture of human society that is

radically different from that which has been commonly accepted by the average man
or woman. The opposition to sociobiology comes either from those who incorrectly
interpret the philosophical implications of sociobiology, or those who for some
reason dislike the commonsense implications of sociobiology. To illustrate more
clearly how the ideas of evolution and sociobiology conform to our common sense, I
will examine the central ideas of these theories as they relate to our common
experience.
Underlying all of evolutionary theory is the concept that there will be within
any population wide variation in innate characteristics and traits, which implies that
individuals will differ in physical stature, muscular coordination, stamina, energy,
sexual drive, type and degree of intelligence, temperament, disposition, and so on.
Thus we find tall men and short men; well-built muscular men, slender wiry men,
and plump men; aggressive men and gentle men; well-coordinated men who excel at
sports and clumsy, awkward men who find sports difficult; men who excel in science,
others who excel in dramatics, and others who find intellectual activity difficult;
aggressive, out-going men, and shy, retiring men; and so on. Similarly, we find tall
women and short women; strong, muscled women, slender, fragile women, and
plump women; aggressive women and gentle women; well-coordinated women who
excel at sports and clumsy, awkward women who find sports difficult; women who
excel in science, others who excel in dramatics, and others who find intellectual
activity difficult; aggressive, out-going women, and shy, retiring women; and so on. A
person’s physical and social environment will of course affect how his innate
characteristics and traits will be expressed, but the limits to which he can adjust to
his environment and the way in which he does so will depend on his biological
make-up. Thus, an athletic boy will tend to find sports enjoyable and will likely
develop his athletic skills if he has the opportunity and encouragement to do so, but
an unathletic boy will find sports disagreeable and will more likely turn to other
activities. Similarly, a woman who is gifted in music will be more likely to pursue
musical activities than a woman who has no sense of rhythm or pitch. Despite the
claims of some intellectuals that a person’s behavior is entirely relative to his
culture, any person with a reasonable amount of experience dealing with other
people, particularly coaches, teachers, managers, and others who must try to
develop the talents of other people, will readily recognize that some people are more
talented than other people, people have different abilities, and people have different
innate likes and dislikes. This is not a revolutionary concept.
Another important concept of evolution and sociobiology is that there is
inherently a conflict of interest between organisms with different genotypes, and
that what is advantageous for one organism is not necessarily advantageous for
another. We can benefit ourselves at the expense of others, and others can benefit

themselves at our expense. As uncomfortable as this may make some people feel, it
is a fact of life. When we go to an automobile dealer to buy a new car, we know that it
is in our interest to pay a low price while it is in the interest of the dealer that we pay
a high price. Automobile dealers realize this, of course, and they have devised
elaborate ways of appealing to our vanity, our sympathy, or our insecurities, in order
to induce us to part with more of our cash. We may resent these tactics, but from the
point of view of the dealer and his salesmen they are necessary in order to earn a
good living. All business transactions, from the heated bargaining at a street market
in Calcutta to the closing of a deal in a plush executive office in New York City,
involve a resolution of this basic conflict of interest. Why do we have labor disputes,
civil litigation, political confrontations, and even war, if it is not because of conflicts
of interest? We see that the principle that there is inherently a conflict of interest
between organisms with different genotypes is certainly not inconsistent with our
observations of human behavior, and to object to this principle is to leave most of
our actions inexplicable.
Related to the concept that there is inherently a conflict of interest between
organisms with different genotypes is the concept that there is inherently a lesser
conflict between organisms that share genes, and that organisms will promote the
reproductive success of genetic relatives. Again, there is nothing in this concept that
conflicts with everyday common sense, for we certainly recognize that parents
usually give their most unqualified love to their own children rather than to the
children of others, and that siblings and other relatives share a common bond that is
different than that shared by unrelated individuals. We find it normal if a man gives
a car to his teen-age son, but we find it a bit peculiar if he instead gives a car to the
kid across the street. We recognize that the love between two married people is
different than the love between parent and child—marital love requires each
partner to live up to the other’s expectations to some extent, but the love of a parent
towards a child does not require that the child reciprocate the generosity of the
parent in kind. When we study primitive cultures, we find that kinship patterns are
integral to the structure of the societies, and that the differences in how these
patterns are viewed will have a profound effect on the quality of life in a society. The
importance of genetic relatedness is thus an accepted part of our commonsense
understanding of daily life as well as our scientific understanding of human
societies.
One of the strengths of sociobiology is that it can help us to quantify the genetic
basis of behavior. As an example of such an application, we have the study by Martin
Daly and Margo Wilson of “Child Abuse and Other Risks of Not Living with Both
Parents” in Ethology and Sociobiology (1985). As a straight deduction from the
principles of sociobiology, we would expect that child abuse would be much more
frequent when a child is living in a family in which either one or both of his parents
are not his natural parents than when he is living in a family in which both of his

parents are his natural parents. Daly and Wilson studied child abuse victims, run-
aways, and juvenile offenders in a midsized Canadian city. Both abuse and police
apprehension were least likely for children living with two natural parents. Pre-
schoolers living with one natural parent and one stepparent were forty times more
likely to become victims of child abuse than were like-aged children living with two
natural parents, and abuse risk was significantly higher for children living with a
stepparent than for those with a single parent. Socioeconomic status, family size,
and the age of the mother at birth could not account for the differences in abuse.
From this study of child abuse by scientists using the ideas of sociobiology,
along with the obvious implications of a genetic analysis of human behavior, we can
readily conclude that the recent increase in divorce and remarriage in our society is
an important factor in the recent increase in child abuse and the victimization of
children and young adults by prostitution, drugs, and other criminal activity. We can
also conclude that increased reliance on institutional day-care facilities and other
care for children by adults who are not genetically related to them increases the risk
of child abuse, which is illustrated by the cases of abuse in day-care facilities that
have become prominent lately. Of course, some natural parents also abuse their
children, and most stepparents and day-care professionals do not abuse children,
but the implications of this analysis are clear: the most secure and efficient
institution for the care and upbringing of children is the family in which the care of
the children is provided by the natural parents of the children.
I think the conclusion that the traditional family is the best institution for
raising children is the commonsense understanding of most adults in this country.
Although the superiority of the family structure for raising children has been
questioned by some, the only alternative to the traditional two-parent family
common in Western society that makes sense on genetic principles is the extended
family common in Asian societies, in which care for children is provided not just by
the natural parents but also by other genetically related adults. Any other system of
care requires greatly increased economic resources to be reasonably secure and
effective. For example, we have many fine but expensive boarding schools that are
popular for children of the upper class, and these can be quite secure and effective
for raising children. But such facilities are beyond the means of most Americans.
Simply stated, no society has ever found a better system for raising children than the
family system based on care by genetic relatives.
Besides the principle that there is conflict between individuals that is mitigated
by genetic relatedness, another central idea of sociobiology is that there is a basic
difference in the nature of the two sexes and there is inherently conflict between
them. Again, this should not be surprising to anyone who has had relationships with
the opposite sex. The argument of the feminists that the difference in behavior
between the two sexes is purely “cultural” and not in any sense “biological” is

foolish. Although the way in which different societies have ordered the relationship
between the sexes has varied immensely, they have all had this ordering and the
nature of this ordering follows some fairly simple principles. From sociobiology we
know that the differences and conflicts between the sexes arises because it is
advantageous for each sex to pursue different reproductive strategies. Because
females can produce only a limited number of offspring, it is best for them to be
selective in their choice of mates, to choose mates on the basis of genetic quality and
ability to provide material resources, and to limit themselves to one mate. Since
males can potentially produce many offspring, it is best for them to be less selective
in their choice of mates than females, to choose their mates on the basis of genetic
quality and fertility, and to try to have more than one mate. Although females will be
competitive with other females, the difference in reproductive capacity between
males and females means that males will be more competitive with other males than
females are with other females. Thus, we find in our society as in other societies that
men and women behave differently, that women use different criteria in selecting
men than men use in selecting women, and that in our sexual ethics there is a
“double standard” whereby greater reserve in sexual contacts is expected of women
than of men. The reason for these differences is that, in terms of ultimate cause, they
are beneficial for both men and women. Although many people may dislike the
differences in behavior between men and women and the attitude of people towards
these differences, they cannot deny that these differences exist and that the nature
of these differences are what sociobiology predicts.
Heather Trexler Remoff wrote Sexual Choice (1984), which is a study of
courtship and love in American society from the woman’s point of view. The author
based her study on conversations and interviews with friends and other women.
Remoff’s analysis rests on two basic contentions: that the human mating system is
one in which the majority of sexual encounters that lead to sexual contact are most
actively initiated by women, and that the nature of these encounters are controlled
by the biological differences between men and women. Although such concepts as
“most actively initiated” are subject to different interpretations, her work essentially
rests on the principles of sociobiology, which imply that men will more directly but
less discriminatingly pursue sexual contact than women, while women will to a
greater extent than men make the decisions about sexual contact. Remoff finds that
women in all different social and economic situations use strategies that lie on a
continuum from “forthright pursuit” (uncommon and usually not very successful),
to “situational manipulation,” “signal exchange,” and “veto power.” Since it is
necessary that it at least appear that the man is pursuing the woman, these
strategies are methods that women use to interest a man and arrange opportunities
for the man to pursue the woman. In short, the differences in the psychology of men

and women require that women use a less direct and more manipulative strategy
than men in order to be successful in sexual relationships. In addition to describing
the strategies that women use in pursuing men, she also tabulates traits that are
associated with male sexual and reproductive success; the traits most affecting
reproductive success include, not surprisingly, good income potential, control of
material resources, male dominance towards female, and the ability to interact well
with children.
The concept of “male dominance” is one that is easily misinterpreted, so it
would be useful to clarify what the concept really signifies. It is, of course, just one of
the traits that characterize successful sexual and marriage relationships and helps
order the patriarchal structure of society, but since the concept has obtained
negative connotations to some extent from those males who are clumsy or immoral
in obtaining dominance, it tends to create misunderstanding. From the principles of
sociobiology, we see that a major concern of the male in providing care for children
is to be assured that the children are his own. To do this, he needs to control the
female sufficiently so as to prevent her from being inseminated by another male.
Since a female can be assured that her children are her own, she does not need a
similar control of the male, but instead will be concerned that the male will in fact
support her and her children and will not abandon them. The ability for a male to
“dominate” his mate will be a psychological need for the male that reflects his need
to control his mate’s sexual activity, while the need to be “dominated” by her mate
will be a psychological need for the female that reflects her need to be assured that
the male will support her and her children. If the male is unable or unwilling to
dominate, or the female is unable or unwilling to be dominated, the male will most
likely abandon the female. The psychological balance that is reached in a successful
sexual relationship is the feeling by both of the mates that their interests will be
fulfilled in the relationship. This feeling is enhanced in both of the partners if the
male is dominant towards the female.
The principle that males are more competitive with other males than females
are with other females is demonstrated not only by the fact that the most successful
people in our society—successful businessmen, executives, scholars, artists, politi-
cians, and so on—are mostly men, but also by the fact that the most unsuccessful
people in our society—murderers, burglars, child molesters, alcoholics, suicides, the
homeless, and so on—are also mostly men. That life is more risky for men than for
women is shown consistently by statistics that compare the rates of deaths,
accidents, and illnesses for men and women. A recent study by Margo Wilson and
Martin Daly of “Competitiveness, Risk Taking, and Violence: The Young Male
Syndrome” in Ethology and Sociobiology (1985) illustrates this vividly: the number
of deaths from accidents, suicides, homicides, disease, and other causes is at all ages
greater for men than for women. Both the victims and the perpetrators of homicide
come predominantly from the same group: unemployed and unmarried young men.

The “taste for risk” is primarily a characteristic of men and results in men grouping
together to pursue this risk. Moreover, the ratio of male to female deaths is strongly
correlated with age: the number of deaths from all causes is about two to one for
males versus females at age 10, increases to four to one at age 20, declines to about
two-and-a-half to one at age 40, and remains steady at that ratio until about age 70,
when it starts declining to one-and-one-fifth to one at age 80. Up to age 30 this
difference primarily reflects the greater rate of deaths due to accidents, suicides,
homicides, and other external causes; by age 45 and after the number of deaths due
to external causes is about the same as the number of deaths due to disease and
other internal causes. The age dependency of the ratio of male and female deaths
can be understood by the age dependency of the male’s sexual drive: the sexual drive
for males is greatest when they are young, ages 15 to 35, peaking at age 20. It is
when the sex drive is at the peak that men are prone to be the most violent.
Indeed, if we examine the explanation of sexual behavior offered by the
ultimate cause theories of sociobiology, along with the proximate cause observations
of the differences in the lifetime development of sexual drives in the two sexes, we
can develop a more thorough understanding of how the differences in the sexes lead
inevitably to conflict. As reported in Sexual Behavior of the Human Male (1948) and
Sexual Behavior of the Human Female (1953), Alfred C. Kinsey and his associates
found that males have their greatest sex drive from about age fifteen to the early
thirties, and from the early thirties males steadily lose their sex drive; in contrast,
females have a low sex drive at a young age, and then gradually gain sex drive from
about age twenty to the early thirties, and after that only gradually lose their sex
drive. The high sex drive for young males can be understood in terms of ultimate
cause by the male reproductive strategy of inseminating as many females as
possible, while the tapering of sex drive later in life may reflect either that it is
desirable later in life to expend more energy supporting existing offspring than
producing new offspring, or else perhaps that many men tend to lose some of their
sex drive if they are relatively unsuccessful in competing with other men. For
females, the low sex drive in youth reflects the need to be selective about mates,
while the increasing sex drive later in life may reflect either that it is desirable to
increase efforts towards insemination and reduce selectivity as the years of fertility
draw to a close, or else perhaps that sexual activity helps a woman secure the
support of her mate in supporting her children. In any case, we see that these
differences have a profound effect on the change with age of the abilities of males
and females to attract members of the opposite sex.
The difference between men and women in how their ability to attract and
control new sexual partners change during their lifetimes has a profound effect on
how lives develop for men and women. I will term the ability to attract and control
new sexual partners “primary sexual power”; the ability to attract and control

existing sexual partners includes primary sexual power along with “secondary
sexual power,” which I will define as power that comes from such things as the
production of children and the maintenance of social connections. Primary sexual
power can be considered a reflection of both an individual’s ability to attract
members of the opposite sex and his relative need for sexual contact: a person has
the greatest primary sexual power when he is strongly attractive to the opposite sex,
and when the opposite sex has a stronger need for sexual contact than he does.
Females tend to have their greatest primary sexual power when they are young for
two reasons: males tend to be attracted most to females who have many years of
potential fertility, and males at this age and older have a stronger sex drive than do
females. On the other hand, males tend to have much less primary sexual power
when they are young because young males usually have limited material resources
with which to attract females, and have a greater sex drive than most of the females
their own age. Young females clearly have an advantage over young males. As men
and women age, the situation changes dramatically. While unsuccessful males will
often lose sexual desirability, the successful males can maintain or even enhance
their desirability; females, on the other hand, gradually lose their sexual desirability
as they age and their remaining years of fertility decline. The increase in sex drive
for the female along with the decrease in sex drive for the male further enhances this
shift in primary sexual power. Of course, the female may gain secondary sexual
power because of social interactions, especially if she marries and produces chil-
dren. Nevertheless, the differences between men and women in how their primary
sexual power changes over a lifetime will inevitably produce a great deal of conflict
and frustration for both men and women, a reflection that we are designed by our
biology not to be content, but rather to struggle to reproduce and evolve.
The analysis of the principles of sociobiology that I have given in this chapter
show that the ideas of sociobiology are not radical or highly divergent from common
sense, but instead tend to support the more traditional ideas that most of us have.
The picture that evolution and sociobiology give us of human life is one of inherent
struggle and conflict. Such a picture may not be appealing to some people, but it
cannot be claimed that this contradicts what we experience in life. Indeed, any
theory that denied struggle and conflict would intrinsically have to be wrong
because it would afford no explanation of the struggle and conflict we know does
occur in life. The principles of sociobiology, which complement and enhance
common sense, are central to an understanding of human nature, and thus are
central to a sound moral philosophy.
Chapter XIV
The Structure of Society

In the last two chapters I discussed the basic principles of evolution and
sociobiology and showed that they are consistent with common sense. These
principles establish a theoretical framework that enables us to understand how
human society is structured. It is evident that the relationship of the sexes is not just
one among many topics that are important in understanding human society, but
rather that it is the central topic. Sex roles, marriage rules, kinship patterns, mate
selection, sexual behavior, and other aspects of social organization are of more
fundamental importance than economic organization, political organization,
ideology, art, religion, technology, and language in shaping the basic character of a
people. Of course, all of these aspects of culture are interrelated—our present social
arrangements and economic institutions are mutually dependent on each other and
on our technology, for example. Nevertheless, it is sounder to consider these other
aspects of culture to be shaped by sexual motives than it is to consider sexual
motives to be shaped by these other aspects. The beliefs and actions of a people
towards love, marriage, and family are central to the structure of their society.
One of the important tasks of sociobiology is to organize and reinterpret the
vast amount of information that has been acquired on the different aspects of social
organization in primitive and modern societies. A good discussion of sex roles,
marriage rules, kinship patterns, mate selection, and so on is given by Martin Daly
and Margo Wilson in Sex, Evolution, and Behavior (1983). In this chapter I will
discuss work that has been done by social scientists working outside of the
framework of sociobiology. I will not attempt to discuss all the aspects of society that
such work and sociobiology helps us to understand. Instead, my objective is to
develop a few key ideas that are important in understanding how the differences
between men and women affect their behavior in society.
The work I want to discuss includes the studies of the American anthropologist
Margaret Mead and the ideas of the American writer George Gilder. The work of
Margaret Mead is particularly appropriate because Mead was most interested in just
those questions of love, marriage, and family that we now know are of central
importance to the structure of society. George Gilder uses many of the ideas of
160
The Structure of Society 161
Margaret Mead and others to develop a keen analysis of the effects of women’s
liberation on American society.
The particular work of Margaret Mead that I want to examine is that which she
discusses in Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies (1935) and Male and
Female: A Study of the Sexes in a Changing World (1949). Both of these books are
based on her studies of various South Pacific cultures: Sex and Temperament is a
study of the Mountain Arapesh, Mundugumor, and Tchambuli tribes of New Guinea,
while Male and Female includes this work and additional work on the people of the
Samoan Islands, the Manus people of the Admiralty Islands, the Iatmul of New
Guinea, and the people of Bali. Male and Female also includes observations of con-
temporary American culture.
The work of Margaret Mead is well known, for in addition to her work as an
anthropologist, she was an outspoken advocate of various causes in such areas as
women’s rights, sexual morality, the raising of children, population control, drug
abuse, and environmental pollution. Her public activities, as well as the popularity of
her books, perhaps make it difficult to evaluate her work as a scientist. All scientists
who do significant work are subject to criticism and refutation, and much of
Margaret Mead’s work has been criticized for both descriptive inaccuracies and
unwarranted conclusions. It will be helpful in gaining perspective on her work to
examine some of this controversy.
Probably the best known of Margaret Mead’s books is Coming of Age in Samoa
(1928), which is an examination of adolescence in the Samoan people. As Mead
explains in the introduction to this book, she spent nine months gathering informa-
tion about the adolescent girl in Samoa by studying the lives of fifty girls in three
small neighboring villages. During most of her stay in Samoa, Mead lived with a
white family near the villages she studied and was free to explore the villages and to
observe and talk with their inhabitants. However, since she did not actually live in a
Samoan household, she obtained most of her information from the group of young
girls she was studying.
The purpose of her study, as Mead explains in the introduction to her book, was
to determine whether the conflicts and stresses that afflict Western adolescents are
due to the nature of adolescence itself, or are a specific characteristic of Western
civilization. Her conclusions were startling: in Samoa life is easy and peaceful, and
adolescence is not a time of great turmoil, but rather a pleasant and carefree time. In
particular, she reports that the Samoan people are generally free and open about sex
of all sorts, both heterosexual and homosexual, and that Samoan adolescents engage
freely in sex before marriage. Samoan girls desire and enjoy many lovers before
settling down to marriage and raising children. Even after marriage sex is relatively
free, and adultery is not considered a serious offense even for women.
This view of Samoan life as being casual, free of conflict, and sexually promis-
cuous, is criticized as naive and inaccurate by Derek Freeman in Margaret Mead and

Samoa: The Making and Unmaking of an Anthropological Myth (1983). Freeman

undertook studies of the Samoan people in the early 1940’s, and although he had
originally accepted the observations and conclusions of Mead, he eventually realized
that what she had written about the people of eastern Samoa certainly did not apply
to the people of western Samoa whom he was studying. In the 1960’s Freeman
returned to Samoa, and encouraged by educated Samoans who were familiar with
Mead’s writings and distressed by what they believed to be her mistaken picture of
Samoan life and values, undertook a systematic evaluation of Mead’s work on
Samoa. In Margaret Mead and Samoa Freeman explains why Mead is incorrect in
her observations of and conclusions about Samoan life, and develops a picture of
Samoan culture that is fundamentally at odds with Mead’s portrayal. He also
explains much of the historical background behind Mead’s work and the ideas that
were developing in anthropology at the time she did her work.
In the middle 1920’s an intense debate had been developing in the social
sciences for over a decade, a controversy over the doctrine of biological determinism
that had been predominant for many years in the social sciences. The advocates of
biological determinism had adopted the extreme view that all of human behavior
was dependent on the genetic characteristics of people, and in particular that the
differences in behavior between different groups of people were the result of genetic
differences. This was a view that many people considered to be racist, and in
response to what they considered to be extreme and immoral views some people
denounced biological determinism and promoted the doctrine of cultural determin-
ism, a doctrine that held that all behavior is the result of cultural influences. The
leader of this movement in anthropology was Franz Boas, who was one of the most
important forces in the development of modern anthropology. Margaret Mead was a
student of Boas, and Boas designed Mead’s research in Samoa to support his
theories of cultural determinism and to discredit the advocates of biological
determinism. Both Boas and Mead believed strongly that the study of primitive
cultures very different from Western cultures would provide conclusive evidence of
the strength of cultural factors. It was with this philosophical background that Mead
undertook to determine if the conflicts and turmoil of adolescence were biologically
or culturally determined. It is clear that she was committed to the latter alternative.
In Chapter XII, I discussed the nature-nurture controversy in detail, and we can
see that there are serious flaws in the concept of cultural determinism and the use of
science to confirm or discredit either biological determinism or cultural determin-
ism. The most serious flaw is simply that the question of whether behavior is in
general determined by biology or culture is inherently meaningless: we can
legitimately ask whether differences in behavior are biological or cultural when we

consider differences in a particular behavior between two individuals, between an

individual and the average of a group, or between the averages of two groups, and
we can quantify the degree to which behaviors are biological or cultural for any well-
defined set of particular behaviors, but that is all we can do. We cannot in any
meaningful sense ask or determine in general whether behavior is primarily
biological or primarily cultural. Furthermore, from the principle of continuity we
know that cultural differences are not radically different in kind from biological
differences, but are simply differences of a higher degree of complexity—the concept
of culture must be introduced to explain phenomena that are chance events in terms
of more fundamental physical and biological laws. The only sense in which human
behavior is not ultimately biological or is inexplicable in terms of fundamental
physical laws is in the sense that human beings have a free will, but the actions of
the will are outside the province of science and are not subject to scientific
investigation. All behaviors that can be studied scientifically are governed by the
laws of physics and biology.
A related flaw in the controversy between biological determinism and cultural
determinism is the misconception that science should even be able to answer the
question of whether biology or culture is of greater importance in understanding
human behavior. Science cannot answer this question; it is not a scientific question,
it is a philosophical question. This misconception is still widely prevalent in the
social sciences, and many scientists at the time of Mead’s work and even today
regard her work as a “negative instance” that refutes the claims of biological deter-
minism and supports the claims of cultural determinism. Freeman himself seems to
accept the view that if Mead’s observations had been correct, they would then
support the claims of cultural determinism, and he believes that his refutation of her
observations supports his call for a more scientific paradigm for anthropology. But
strictly speaking this is incorrect—a scientific paradigm can only be supported or
refuted on philosophical grounds. This is plainly evident in Freeman’s book because
a great deal of his argument is philosophical, and it is his philosophical arguments
and not his scientific observations that support his call for a more scientific
paradigm for anthropology. The arguments I have given in this book show from
general principles not only that Freeman is correct in asserting that a paradigm that
incorporates both biological and cultural concepts allows a better understanding of
the culture of the Samoan people and human society in general, but also that this
paradigm is the paradigm given by sociobiology. But this conclusion is entirely
independent of the truth or falseness of either Freeman’s or Mead’s observations. No
particular scientific observation can by itself support or refute these claims.
The doctrine of cultural determinism has been prominent in modern
anthropology and other social sciences and is a major reason for the problems that
anthropologists have had in reaching substantive conclusions about their field of

study. As Richard D. Alexander discusses in Natural Selection and Social Behavior

(1981), anthropology has never had a satisfactory general theory, and because of
this it has failed to reach especially significant conclusions. As Alexander notes, the
distinguished anthropologist George P. Murdock wrote a paper called “Anthro-
pology’s Mythology” in 1972, near the end of his career, in which he declares that
anthropology is suspect as a science because no two of its foremost theoreticians
agree on even the most basic issues. This lack of theoretical unity has been
accentuated by the acceptance of the doctrine of cultural determinism because this
doctrine, in its extreme form, practically negates the existence of any theory. The
ultimate “negative instance” refuting biological determinism would be a culture in
which none of the behaviors of people were at all explicable in terms of universal
theories. This idea is absurd, of course, but the denial of any determinate human
nature that leads to this absurd idea is widely accepted and underlies the doctrine of
cultural determinism. It is clear that the widespread acceptance of this doctrine has
helped to stunt the growth of anthropology as well as other fields in the social
sciences.
Because of the lack of an accepted universal theory, the observations and
conclusions of any particular anthropologist are highly dependent on the biases of
that anthropologist, biases that are implicit in whatever school of thought he
subscribes to. Freeman points out that Mead had an obvious bias to interpret her
study of the Samoans as vindicating the doctrine of cultural determinism. This is
undoubtedly true, although we should be careful to recognize that all scientists have
strong biases—an astrophysicist is strongly biased to accept the general theory of
relativity, for example. The significant insight in Freeman’s discussion of Mead’s
biases is not that she had them, but rather exactly what they were and how they
affected her work.
In addition to explaining the preconceptions that Mead had prior to her work,
Freeman shows that Mead’s conclusions contradict some of her own observations,
and additionally that they contradict the observations that he and other anthro-
pologists have made of the Samoan people. The most obvious of the discrepancies
between Mead’s description and the realities of Samoan life are perhaps those
involving the sexual values and behavior of the Samoans. Mead reports that
adolescent girls desire and are free to choose many lovers, but she also reports that
over half of the adolescent girls she studied had never had any heterosexual
experience. This doesn’t quite make sense—if adolescent girls in Samoa have a free
and active sex life, one would expect that most adolescent girls would have some
heterosexual experience. Not only are Mead’s conclusions inconsistent with her own
data, but the studies of Freeman and others show that much greater than half of the
adolescent girls in typical Samoan communities during the 1920’s were likely to be
virgins, and moreover, that when adolescent girls did lose their virginity, most
people considered it to be a shameful departure from a well-defined ideal of chastity.

Virginity has historically been cherished by the Samoans. Prior to adopting

Christianity in the first half of the nineteenth century, the Samoans had an elaborate
cult of virginity that included public defloration ceremonies. Through the 1920’s and
up to recent times, adolescent girls were still closely watched by their families and
virginity was highly valued. Male relatives of a young virgin girl would readily attack
any man they suspected of being interested in deflowering the girl. Furthermore,
Freeman shows that contrary to Mead’s assertion that adultery is not of much
concern to the Samoans, the Samoans consider adultery to be a serious offense,
particularly for women. As a whole, Mead’s depiction of Samoan life as casual, easy,
and without strong conflicts is at variance with the realities of Samoan life that
Freeman and other anthropologists have found to be true. It is even at variance with
some of her own data.
Freeman’s studies of the Samoans are more extensive and soundly reasoned
than are Mead’s studies, and it appears that Mead was fundamentally in error in her
observations and conclusions about Samoan life. The question remains why Mead
erred so badly. Part of the reason she erred is undoubtedly because she had a strong
desire prior to undertaking her study to prove what she eventually claimed to prove,
but Freeman speculates that another important reason is that Mead was probably
mischievously duped by the young girls she studied. Because of their strict morality,
the Samoans are generally reluctant to talk about sexual matters, and it is likely that
the young girls were embarrassed and ashamed by the questions of the young
liberated woman arriving from the United States, and that to escape from this
tension they resorted to a typically Samoan form of teasing that involves deliberately
duping the person being teased. Since Mead apparently did not know a great deal
about the Samoan culture prior to her study, she would not have been able to use
knowledge of the culture to help her evaluate the credibility of her young
informants. Furthermore, Mead did not know the language of the Samoan people
prior to arriving in Samoa, and although she studied the language intensively during
the first two to three months after she arrived there, it is doubtful that she could
communicate readily with the people she studied, and the Samoans may not have
taken her too seriously. In short, the nine-month study of the twenty-three-year-old
American graduate student was simply not thorough and rigorous enough to yield
credible results. Her observations and conclusions are naive and inaccurate.
Freeman is careful to point out that his criticism is only relevant to Mead’s
work on Samoa, and that he is making no assertions about her later work. However,
Freeman’s analysis does provide a useful perspective on her later work because this
work appears to suffer from some of the same defects as her work on Samoa. I will
first discuss some of the problems with the work Mead presents in Sex and
Temperament, and after that I will discuss what is valuable in this work and in Male

and Female.
One of the main problems with Sex and Temperament is that Mead is
inconsistent in her description of the personalities of the tribes she discusses. For
example, Mead describes the life of the Mountain Arapesh people of New Guinea as
gentle and peaceful, and asserts that they do not expect men and women to be
greatly different in temperament. Yet she also describes violent quarrels over
women, a man and woman attacking each other with axes, men beating their wives,
and a mother trying to strangle her baby. Mead makes many such contradictory
comments. Other anthropologists have pointed out these discrepancies, as Richard
C. Thurnwald does in a critical review of Sex and Temperament in American Anthro-
pologist (1936). In a reply to these criticisms, Mead states in a letter in American
Anthropologist (1937) that Thurnwald confuses the social ideal of the Arapesh with
the reality of their behavior. This may be true, but in her book Mead herself confuses
ideal behaviors with actual behavior. For example, in the last chapters of Sex and
Temperament she discusses the implications of her results, and states that they
show that the differences between individuals are almost entirely due to differences
in culturally determined conditioning, and makes a particular point of explaining
that the characteristics that define the roles and temperaments of men and women,
and help distinguish one from the other, are purely the result of cultural influences.
In the Introduction of her book, however, she clearly states that her study was not
concerned with whether or not there are universal differences between the sexes,
and she reaffirms this in the letter in American Anthropologist that I cited above.
This would seem to be trying to have it both ways—Mead’s conclusions are not
consistent with the statements she makes in her Introduction and later in her book.
She herself seems to be confusing the ideal behavior of the Arapesh and their actual
behavior in stating that the differences between individuals are almost entirely due
to cultural influences. This type of ambiguity pervades her work. Particularly
dubious are the moral implications for modern American life that Mead asserts her
work supports. Since morality is a matter for philosophy and not for science, her
unfortunate mixture of scientific findings and moral speculation undermines the
credibility of both her science and her philosophy. Mead presents a good description
of the life of these three primitive societies in this book, but her conclusions are hazy
because of the lack of a strong and consistent theoretical framework, and her
moralizing is poor. In Male and Female Mead addresses the implications of her work
more cogently, and her attempts to draw parallels between the results of her studies
of primitive societies and modern American society are sounder than in Sex and
Temperament.
Nevertheless, Mead’s work still contains much of value. One reason it is
valuable is that she was particularly interested in the questions of love, marriage,
and family that are central to the organization of any society. Another reason is that

despite her bias to see everything as culturally determined, she still attempts to
develop some generalities about how the behaviors of men and women are ordered
in a society. Developing generalities is the essence of science, of course, for one
cannot forever maintain that the world consists of an unorganized collection of facts
and still remain a scientist. As Freeman notes in Margaret Mead and Samoa, the
extreme cultural determinism that Mead adopted in her study of Samoa is inherently
anti-scientific. Mead was a good enough scientist to understand this in her later
work, and some of the generalizations she develops are sound. Moreover, they help
us to understand something that is important to understand: the relationship of
explanations of human behavior in terms of ultimate cause to explanations of human
behavior in terms of proximate cause. Mead was particularly interested in the effect
of culture on personality, and because of this she borrowed many ideas from the
psychology of personality, which inherently uses explanations of human behavior in
terms of proximate cause. In doing this, she relates the features of societies to the
psychological drives of individuals. Work of this sort will ultimately be important in
relating the principles of sociobiology to the principles of psychology and other
disciplines in the social sciences that focus more specifically on the individual.
Furthermore, explanations of behavior in terms of proximate cause can be more
readily used in understanding our own lives and interactions with other individuals
than can the more general explanations of behavior in terms of ultimate cause. An
understanding of the needs that motivate the actions of the individuals we
encounter in our own lives is basic to moral philosophy.
In Sex and Temperament Mead discusses the social organization of three
primitive societies in New Guinea: the Mountain Arapesh who lived in the rugged,
unproductive Torricelli Mountains, the Mundugumor who lived on the banks of the
Yuat River, and the Tchambuli who lived along the edge of the lovely Tchambuli Lake.
What particularly fascinated Mead was how radically different were the expected
characteristics of men and women in these three societies. According to Mead, the
Mountain Arapesh expected both men and women to be unaggressive, cooperative,
and helpful in responding to the needs and demands of other people. Moreover, they
didn’t expect either sex to have especially strong sexual drives. In contrast, Mead
reports that the cannibalistic Mundugumor expected both men and women to be
ruthless, aggressive, and highly sexed. Neither men nor women were expected to be
loving and kind. Thus, the Arapesh had an ideal for both men and women that was
similar in many ways to the American ideal for women, while the Mundugumor
had an ideal for both men and women that was similar in a somewhat extreme way
to the American ideal for men. Mead reports that the Tchambuli had a reversal of
these ideals: women were expected to be the more dominant, impersonal, and
managing sex, while men were expected to be less responsible and more
emotionally dependent. It might be argued that these broad generalizations

made by Mead oversimplify the character of these people, but I think it is clear from
her descriptions of life in these three tribes that the expectations for the members of
each sex differed greatly from one society to the next, and contrasted markedly with
the ideals of American society. Mead discusses in detail the process of socialization
by which the members of these societies attempted to shape the character of the
young to fit these ideals.
A major concern of Mead is the situation of deviants, individuals who are
temperamentally unable to adjust to the role that society demands of them. It is
clear to Mead that people are born with or quickly develop distinct differences in
temperaments, and that society will give its greatest rewards to those individuals
who most readily adjust to the ideals demanded by the society. In the Arapesh
society, the aggressive, violent man is out of place, and such men are maladjusted
and unhappy living in what to them is an incomprehensible society. The same type
of aggressive, violent man who is an outcast in Arapesh society would likely be
highly successful in the Mundugumor society. Similarly, a kind and loving mother
would be considered disagreeable and odd in the Mundugumor society, but she
would be considered ideal in the Arapesh society. The greatest conflicts in a society
result from those individuals who find it difficult to fit the ideal established by their
society.
Thus, we see that there are two major ideas underlying Mead’s analysis of these
primitive societies. One is that people are born with innate differences in
temperaments (or soon acquire them, since Mead is not definite about accepting any
ideas of biological determinism); the second is that society tends to mold the
character of people to fit an ideal that it has established, these ideals being different
for men and women. Neither of these ideas is particularly difficult to understand or
to accept. The idea that people differ in innate temperaments follows directly from
evolutionary theory, while the establishment of social ideals is necessary if a society
is to have any sort of orderly structure. Mead has shown that societies can vary
greatly in what they expect of men and women. Nevertheless, there is nothing in her
work that suggests that there are not innate differences between men and women, a
point she makes in her introduction to Sex and Temperament and reiterates in the
letter to American Anthropologist that I cited above. In all of the societies she
studied there was a clear division of labor between the sexes, the raising of children
was primarily the responsibility of the women, and the positions that were most
honored in the society were given to men. In particular, there is nothing in her work
that contradicts any of the principles of sociobiology.
In Male and Female Mead more directly addresses the question of what might
be the basic regularities in sexual development in all societies. In other words, in
this book she is making an attempt to understand the theoretical generalizations
that we can make about social development, and in particular about how that

development is different for men and women. The generalizations she arrives at are
the following. The child first arrives at an understanding of his sex membership by
examining his own body and comparing it with the bodies of other people. Moreover,
the structure of his body gives the child some understanding of what he is expected
to do. Boys and girls are both raised by their mothers, so they initially identify with
this female more than with their father or other males. As a girl grows up her
identification with her mother and other females is less complicated than the
identification that a boy must make with his father and other males. Females never
have to differentiate themselves from their mothers, but males need to differentiate
themselves from their mothers and identify themselves with other males. Females
learn that their main function in life is to produce other children, but males instead
learn that they must enter the world of men and prove themselves through action. At
adolescence, the female is protected from interested males by her adult relatives and
is essentially in the position more of choosing a mate than seeking a mate, while the
male learns that he must actively pursue females and that it is considered a sign of
manliness to obtain the favors of a female. The female’s understanding of her sex
membership and role in life is finally established securely by pregnancy and the
bearing of children, while the male’s understanding of his sex membership and role
in life is always less certain and in need of constant reaffirmation. His insecurity is
heightened by the uncertainty of paternity. In every known society, the male’s need
for achievement is clearly recognized, and regardless of what men do, both men and
women consider the activities of men as important and as more important than the
activities of women. It seems to be universal that males find it necessary to affirm
their masculinity by success in some activity that is not permitted to women. Exactly
what this achievement should be can be defined quite differently by different
societies, but all societies have found some constructive activities in which males
can develop a sure sense of their masculinity.
The importance of the male’s need to differentiate himself from females and to
achieve in some activity that is forbidden to women is dramatically evidenced in the
initiatory cults that exist in many primitive tribes. The cults that Mead studied indi-
cated that men have a need to define a role that is somehow the equal of the role of
bearing children that is so obviously given to women. The basic theme of the
initiatory cult is that women hold the secrets of life by their ability to make children,
and that men have been able to compensate for this basic inferiority by a clever
intrigue. The men have devised bamboo flutes, hollow logs, and other exotic noise-
making devices and initiatory paraphernalia, which they keep at least partially
hidden from the women. When they are initiated, the young boys are taken from the
women and the men themselves turn the boys into men. The women may be able to
make human beings, but only men can make men. The initiatory ceremonies are
imitations of birth—the young initiates are brought to the ceremony as boys,

subjected to the rites of initiation that often involve symbolic recreations of

containment in the womb and subsequent birth, and at the end of the initiation have
become men. It is a dramatic enactment of the basic psychological need of men to
assert their own masculinity and to differentiate themselves from women, and the
necessity for them to achieve this definition of their own manhood through their
associations with other men.
These cults may appear exotic and strange to modern Americans, but they are
of fundamental importance to the structure of these societies. The taboo against
women learning the workings of the noisemakers and other devices of the initiatory
cult is so severe in some cultures that a woman will be killed if she inadvertently
learns the truth of the source of the mysterious noises. The myths engendered by
these cults are essential to the security of the males, and women as well as men
accept their importance. When missionaries came to these tribes, all they needed to
do to destroy the culture was to show the flutes to the women. The men may have
been fierce, proud, and courageous headhunters, but once their secrets were
exposed to the women they were crushed. Many would simply wonder away
dejectedly to be killed by a neighboring tribe. The myths on which their manhood
was based may have been merely myths, but they were necessary in order for the
society to maintain its integrity.
These themes have been adopted by George Gilder in Sexual Suicide (1973) and
Men and Marriage (1986), in which he argues against many of the ideas of feminist
thinkers. As Gilder notes, the fundamental problem of any society is to find suitable
activities for males to affirm their masculinity. Women are inherently more secure in
their sexual identities than are men, not just because women have an unbroken
identification with other females after their initial identification with their mothers,
but also because their sexuality is far more complete since it includes not only sexual
intercourse, but also pregnancy, childbirth, lactation, and long-term nursing. Men
have only one clear sexual act, and that is erection and ejaculation. It is also a much
less secure act than the acts of female sexuality since a man’s potency is subject to
loss for what to him can be mysterious reasons. Women have no such problem, since
they can satisfy their partners by simply being receptive. Moreover, women appear
to be able both to enjoy sexual intercourse more fully than men, and to forego sex
more readily. Thus, women can be secure in their femininity more by simply being
women than men can be secure in their masculinity by simply being men—men
need to constantly reaffirm their masculinity by action, and by action that is
accepted as important by both men and women. The drive for achievement is
stronger in men because it is essential to their identity as men, and failure to achieve
is more costly to men because it undermines their masculinity. There is not such a
strong relationship between achievement and sexual identity in a woman.
We can see that these attributes of male and female sexuality readily explain

much of what we observe in society. Women have long understood that a man’s ego
is important, and that to undermine a man’s confidence in his achievements is a
direct attack on his masculinity. The deprecation of a woman’s achievement may be
distressing to her, but it is not perceived as such a direct attack on her femininity. We
can see among small boys a strong need to assert that they don’t act like girls, but we
don’t see such a strong need among small girls to assert that they don’t act like boys.
Even in our dress, we see that women do not worry much about wearing most types
of men’s clothing, but few men would be willing to wear dresses and other
distinctively feminine attire. Men are much more concerned that they not be
perceived as being feminine than women are concerned that they not be perceived
as being masculine. We also find in organizations an incessant preoccupation among
men with status and politics that is often puzzling to a woman, but for fundamental
sexual reasons are vital to men. Many of the complex behaviors and status symbols
of corporations can be considered the modern analogue of the mythological cults of
primitive cultures—oftentimes the bravado of men clearly outweighs the real worth
of their activities. Such attitudes and behavior may sometimes be confusing, but they
are intrinsic to our nature as human beings and cannot be fundamentally changed.
Not only is this analysis of the differences in psychology between men and
women consistent with our common sense, but it is also consistent with the
principles of sociobiology. The ideas developed by Mead and Gilder help us to
understand in terms of proximate cause the same behaviors that sociobiology
explains in terms of ultimate cause. Men tend to be more promiscuous and less
choosy then women because they have a more insistent need for sexual activity,
while women are more comfortable foregoing sex until they find a suitable partner.
Men are more competitive with others of their own sex than women because they
have a greater need to assert their masculinity through action and achievement. And
so on. All the average behaviors of men and women that are explained in terms of
ultimate cause by the principles of sociobiology can be explained in terms of
proximate cause by the concepts of psychological needs. We see especially that the
concepts that focus on the nature of human sexuality, such as those of Sigmund
Freud, are particularly appropriate to the analysis of human behavior. As socio-
biology advances it will help to give theoretical structure to these and other
concepts in the different fields of the social sciences, and it will help especially to
show how psychological theories can be related to the structure of societies as a
whole.
The observations and conclusions of Margaret Mead are remarkably consistent
with the principles of sociobiology, this in spite of Mead’s commitment to the
doctrine of cultural determinism. The division of labor between the sexes is basic to
the structure of any society, and the innate differences between the sexes account for
the observed regularities among different cultures in sex roles, marriage rules,

kinship patterns, mate selection, sexual behavior, and other aspects of social
organization. The complex interactions of a human being with his environment
means that societies can vary remarkably in the actual manifestations of behaviors,
but all societies have structures that are understandable by basic scientific
principles, and the behavior of individuals can in turn best be understood by
reference to these principles. General conclusions about human behavior, and the
inherent differences between men and women, can be firmly established.
Chapter XV
The Social Roles of Men and Women

In the last chapter I explained that society is structured about the family, and that
the universal characteristics of social organization can be understood as arising
from the innate differences between men and women. Until the rise of the most
recent feminist movement in the 1960’s, people rarely questioned that the
differences in behavior and social roles between men and women were somehow
related to innate biological differences between the sexes, but with the many gains
that the feminists have achieved for their ideology, such as the establishment of a
large number of feminist scholars in our universities and the promotion of feminist
ideals by the National Organization for Women and other political groups, the
question of whether differences in behavior and social roles between the sexes
reflects innate differences or simply cultural influences has become a matter of
intense debate. The assertion that these differences are purely the result of cultural
influences can be understood as an extreme form of cultural determinism, the most
extreme form that has ever been seriously advocated. As I explained in the last
chapter, the debate between biological determinism and cultural determinism is an
empty debate, and the central concept underlying the feminist ideology—that all
significant differences in behavior and social roles between the sexes is determined
entirely by culture—is not simply unwarranted, it is inherently without meaning.
Quite simply, any analysis of society that denies the importance of innate biological
differences in determining the differences in behavior between men and women is
untenable and cannot be considered a reasonable basis for scholarly work. If one
ignores or discredits attempts to understand the reasons that men and women
assume the roles they do in society, then one will mislead or be misled in determin-
ing the effects of values and policies designed to alter these roles.
In this chapter I will be discussing basic characteristics of the feminist ideology
and developing concepts that will be useful in the next two chapters where I analyze
the consequences of desegregating the sexes and the forces in society that lead to
desegregation. By the feminist ideology I mean the moral philosophy that promotes
ethical and political actions that reduce or eliminate the social and legal differences
in the treatment of men and women—in other words, the moral philosophy that
173
The Social Roles of Men and Women 174
strives for “equality” between men and women where “equality” is construed as
meaning “sameness.” I will be discussing some general principles that follow readily
from the analysis I have given in the last few chapters and from common sense. I will
attempt to develop a general understanding of what adopting the values and policies
advocated by the feminists do; I will not attempt to give an account of the history of
feminism or to discuss the specific theories of the feminists. All feminist theories
ultimately reduce to the question of whether or not there are significant innate
differences in behavior between men and women, and I have already discussed this
question thoroughly. Sympathetic discussions of the history and ideas of the feminist
movement are given by Barbara Sinclair Deckard in The Women’s Movement (1983)
and David Bouchier in The Feminist Challenge (1983). Specific critiques of various
feminist arguments are given by Steven Goldberg in The Inevitability of Patriarchy
(1973), George Gilder in Sexual Suicide (1973) and Men and Marriage (1986), and
Nicholas Davidson in The Failure of Feminism (1988). An eloquent exposition of the
basic tenets of feminism is given by John Stuart Mill in The Subjection of Women
(1869).
I will be criticizing the feminist ideology as being philosophically untenable. In
doing this I am criticizing the feminist ideology as a moral philosophy—the basis for
ethical and political decisions. I am not contending that everything that the feminists
have argued is incorrect. They are perfectly correct in many things. The feminists are
correct in saying that society discriminates between men and women and that in
many cases both men and women are denied certain opportunities because of their
sex and not because of their talents and abilities. The feminists are correct in saying
that men and women have talents and abilities that are often not credited to them
because of their sex, and that women in particular are capable of doing many things
that people have often assumed they cannot do. The feminists are correct in saying
that women have serious problems in our society and that society ought to address
these problems. For that matter, it is possible that some of the ethical and political
actions that the feminists advocate may be beneficial to certain individuals or to
society as a whole. I am not arguing that all the specific assertions of the feminists
are necessarily wrong. What I am saying is that if one denies or misunderstands the
innate biological differences between men and women when one is arguing for
moral values and political policies, then one’s argument is inherently unsound, and
the values and policies so defended are unlikely to produce the results one contends
they will. Since most of the arguments of the feminists are based on a denial or
misunderstanding of the innate biological differences between men and women,
most of their arguments are inherently unsound, and the values and policies they
defend are unlikely to produce the results the feminists contend they will.
The feminist ideology incorporates a number of different ideas. However, the

primary thrust of the feminist ideology is to advocate the career-woman role over
the traditional role for women and to pass legislation that encourages women to
pursue careers and discourages them from seeking the traditional role. This can be
seen from my discussion of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique (1963) in
Chapter III. The feminists may argue that they are simply giving women a choice
between pursuing a career and assuming a more traditional role, but the net effect of
their values and policies is to make the traditional role less desirable and the career-
woman role more desirable. For example, the promotion of feminist ideals has
undermined legal protections, such as alimony, that support the traditional role for
women, and has also made it more difficult for men to fulfill their traditional role as
provider for the family by increasing the competition that men must face in their
careers. It is neither practical nor just to promote careers for women by outlawing
discrimination against women or imposing reverse discrimination favoring women
without at the same time increasing the responsibility of women to support
themselves and their families and decreasing the responsibility of men to support
their wives and families. The one necessarily leads to the other. Moreover, as more
women pursue careers and both men and women come to expect career success as
one measure of the talent and attractiveness of a woman, the social pressures on
women to pursue careers increases. Despite the opportunities in a free society to
pursue widely varying roles, the social ideals advocated by cultural leaders and
promoted by legislation exert strong pressures on people to conform to these ideals.
Moreover, clearly defined ideals are necessary in order to create an orderly and just
system of laws and social policies. Because of this, it is erroneous to think that the
promotion of the career-woman role simply gives women a greater choice as to how
to live their lives—the main effect is to make things easier for those men and women
who favor the career-woman role for women, and more difficult for those who favor
the traditional role.
As I discussed in the last chapter, social ideals and their effect on the
socialization of men and women was a major concern of Margaret Mead in Sex and
Temperament (1935). Mead showed that the members of the three primitive tribes
that she studied had certain expectations for the temperament, behavior, and social
roles of men and women. These expectations were embodied in the ideals that the
society accepted for men and women. The ideals varied greatly between the tribes—
the Mountain Arapesh expected both men and women to be cooperative, gentle, and
kind, the Mundugumor expected both men and women to be aggressive and
ruthless, and the Tchambuli expected men to be more emotional than women and
women to be more organized than men. As men and women lived their lives the
other members of their society exerted great pressure on them to behave close to
the ideal that was expected of them, and in general these societies rewarded those
members who lived close to the social ideal and punished those who deviated from

it. Despite the pressures in these societies to make people conform to social ideals,
however, there were some people who were unable to adapt to the role that was
expected of them, and who accordingly suffered isolation from the society and
failure to obtain those things that are necessary in order to live a good life. A
cooperative and kind man was ridiculed by most of the people in the Mundugumor
society, while a violent, aggressive man was an outcast in the Mountain Arapesh
society. The explication of the social ideals of these societies, and the comparison of
these ideals to the actual behavior of men and women in those societies, is basic to
Mead’s analysis of these primitive tribes.
What Mead found in these three societies is true of all societies. All societies
have ideals for the members of the society, and people who closely approximate
these ideals and those who deviate from them. In a stable society such as a primitive
tribe that has changed little over a long period of time, most people will behave close
to the ideal that is expected of them—indeed, this in effect defines the ideal. In a
rapidly changing society such as our own, there is perhaps a greater discrepancy
between what most people consider the ideal and the actual behavior of people, but
those who most closely approximate the ideal will still tend to receive the greatest
benefits of the society, and those who deviate significantly will tend to suffer from
isolation and deprivation. The contentment of an individual in a society, or in any
sub-group within the society, depends critically on his temperamental ability to
adjust to the ideals of that society or sub-group. Also, it is obvious that people who
find the expectations of their society congenial will tend to support those ideals,
while people who are unable to adjust to the expectations of their society will tend
to be anxious to change them. The social deviants and their effect on society was a
major concern of Mead in Sex and Temperament, and as might be expected, the
deviants tended to disrupt the society. Those who are content with the ideals of a
society work to perpetuate them, while those who are discontent with these ideals
work to change them. The effect of ethical and political actions on society as a whole
can in some cases be understood best by examining how their actions change the
ideals of the society, as well as who benefits and who suffers from these actions.
The feminist ideology promotes the career-woman role over the traditional
role as an ideal for women, and ultimately promotes the complete elimination of
separate ideals for men and women. It justifies ethical actions towards this end by
denouncing the traditional role as undesirable for women and praising the career-
woman role as more likely to lead to happiness and fulfillment. It justifies political
actions towards this end by appealing to our notions of justice and freedom,
although by promoting the career-woman role it effectively gives women less
freedom to pursue the traditional role. The feminist ideology justifies political
actions eliminating the legal distinction between the sexes by making analogies
between the situation of women and the situation of other social groups, and in
particular considers discrimination against women to be comparable to discrimi-

nation against other social groups. To understand the consequences of accepting the
ideals of the feminist ideology, we need to understand the process of discrimination
in a society and how the conceptual division of society into the group of all men and
the group of all women differs fundamentally from the conceptual division of society
into other groups of individuals.
Although the term “discrimination” is often used pejoratively to mean “unjust
recognition of differences among people,” I will use the term to mean simply
“recognition of differences among people.” This is a more neutral meaning of the
term, and should not cause confusion in this discussion. Discrimination leads to a
difference in the treatment of an individual because that individual belongs to a
certain well-defined group of people. For example, if we refuse to hire a person
because of his religion, we are discriminating against him because he belongs to a
group of people that accept a particular set of religious beliefs. If we refuse to hire a
person because we consider him too young or too old we are discriminating against
him because he belongs to a group of people of a particular age. Discrimination may
be good or bad, just or unjust. It may be bad to refuse to hire a person to work on an
assembly line because he is a Methodist, but it may be good to refuse to hire a
Methodist to be the minister of an Episcopalian church. It may be bad to refuse to
hire a person to do an engineering project because he is over fifty, but it may be good
to refuse to hire a person to work in a coal mine because he is only twelve years old.
Not only can discrimination be either good or bad, it is also an inevitable component
of the organization of any society. To the extent to which social ideals are
differentiated by religion, age, education, sex, and so on, then a society will also
discriminate by religion, age, education, sex, and so on. It makes no sense to assert
that society should avoid discrimination of all sorts, it is only reasonable to ask
which types of discrimination are just and beneficial to the members of the society,
and which are unjust and harmful.
The process by which society in general discriminates among people I will call
social discrimination. In a large, heterogeneous society such as ours, there are many
sub-groups that have their own ideals and forms of discrimination—what is
required to be accepted as a colleague by the executives of a large corporation is
quite different than what is required by the leaders of a motorcycle gang, for
example. Nevertheless, there are ideals that are characteristic of our society as a
whole, and in particular there are ideals that we incorporate into the laws of our
society. The process by which our government discriminates among people through
the enforcement of our laws I will call legal discrimination. The child-labor laws and
the laws of the juvenile court system discriminate on the basis of age, while legal
requirements for the hiring of public school teachers and the licensing of physicians
and lawyers discriminate on the basis of education. Legal discrimination is one

aspect of social discrimination, but it is a particularly important aspect because it

tends to impose standards or ideals on everyone in the society.
The idea that our government should attempt to minimize certain types of
social discrimination is deeply ingrained in our culture. It may do this by outlawing
discrimination on certain bases entirely—for example, the Constitution forbids
discrimination on the basis of religion—but in many cases it does this by imposing
some sort of reverse discrimination that favors certain groups that are considered to
be disadvantaged. For example, our income tax rates are progressive and we tax
people with higher incomes at a greater rate than those with lower incomes. As
another example, our laws forbid racial discrimination when people are served in
public facilities, and require employers to give preferential treatment to certain
racial groups that are considered disadvantaged. Legal discrimination and the legal
prohibition of discrimination are often imposed as a means to minimize certain
types of social discrimination.
The ideas that have been used to promote laws that minimize certain types of
social discrimination against groups considered to be disadvantaged have been used
by the feminists to promote laws that minimize the social discrimination between
men and women. The arguments for such laws are based on an analogy between
women as a class or group of people and other types of social groups. The argument
is made that women are disadvantaged relative to men, and that in keeping with the
social policies of our government, we ought to promote the advancement of women.
However, all such arguments are based on a fallacy. The conceptual division of
society into the group of all men on the one hand, and all women on the other, is
fundamentally different than the conceptual division of society into the other types
of groups that are normally considered in developing social policies, so the analogy
between the situation of women and the situation of specific social classes, racial
groups, or other types of social groups is erroneous. The way in which these
divisions differ fundamentally can be explained as follows.
The groups in society towards with the concepts of social and legal discrimi-
nation are applied are what I will call socially isolatable groups. A group is socially
isolatable if one can conceive of a process by which the group can become
increasingly isolated from the rest of society socially, economically, politically, and so
on without there being any discontinuous change in the structure of the society that
alters its essential character. This definition comes from the commonsense
observation that a society cannot isolate a group if it destroys itself in the process, it
can only isolate a group if it maintains its integrity while doing so. As an example of
a group that may be socially isolatable, let us consider all those who belong to a
certain religious denomination. Unless this group consisted of virtually everybody in
a society, then we could imagine a process by which the rest of society could isolate
this group. The other people in the society may decide to do this deliberately—

they may stop talking to members of the group, they may pass laws passed prohibit-
ing those in the group from voting, employers may stop hiring members of the
group, and so on, until eventually the group would be severely isolated from the
society. For that matter, the group may of its own choice decide to isolate itself from
the rest of the society, as do the Amish of Pennsylvania. Whatever the case, if we can
imagine such a process (however unlikely it is to happen), then the group is a
socially isolatable group. In addition to religious groups, we can imagine a process of
isolation for racial groups, social classes, criminal groups, and so on. If the society
can maintain its integrity in isolating a social group, then that group is socially
isolatable.
In contrast to these groups is the group of all women and the corresponding
group of all men. Neither of these groups is a socially isolatable group because we
cannot conceive of a process by which these two groups could become increasingly
isolated from the rest of a society without there being a discontinuous change in the
structure of the society that alters its essential character. The reason for this
difference is simple: all societies are formed about the family, and while the families
in the remainder of the society can remain intact throughout the process of isolation
for the groups I discussed in the last paragraph, it cannot when we attempt to isolate
all women from all men. Instead, we must necessarily separate families—husbands
from wives, daughters from fathers, sons from mothers, sisters from brothers. This
results in a discontinuous change in the character of the society, for to imagine all
women as completely isolated from all men, or all men as completely isolated from
all women, is to imagine a society that lacks the fundamental characteristics of a
society. The conceptual division of society into the groups of all women and all men
is fundamentally different than the conceptual division of society into most other
groups of people.
How is this difference important? The reason it is important is that all efforts to
remove supposed social injustices against a group of people are based on the idea
that the members of that group are being oppressed by other people in society. But
the very idea that a group is being oppressed requires that the group be socially
isolatable because oppression is essentially a process of social isolation. To oppress
a religious group requires that we to some extent increase the isolation of the group,
to oppress a racial group requires that we to some extent increase the isolation of
that racial group, and to oppress women requires that we to some extent increase
the isolation of women. But since we cannot socially isolate the group of all women,
the notion of oppressing women is either nonsense, or at least fundamentally
different than the notion of oppressing socially isolatable groups such as religious
groups, social classes, or racial groups.
This is an important point. It doesn’t mean that women may not have partic-
ular problems that are of concern to them and not to men, nor does it mean

that it is inconceivable that some men may have an advantage over some women in
our society. What it does mean is that we cannot think of the problems of women in
our society as being analogous to the problems of most groups that we may consid-
ered disadvantaged in one way or another. Arguments based on such analogies are
inherently fallacious. Individual women, or specific groups of women, may be
oppressed, but all women as a class cannot be oppressed.
To explain this point more clearly, I will introduce the concept of power. By
power I mean the ability of an individual to obtain wanted or needed goods, where I
use the term “goods” to mean perceptible ends as defined in Chapter II. When we
socially isolate a group we reduce the ability of the members of the group to obtain
goods, especially from members of society outside of the group, so when we oppress
a group we reduce their power. If we then make the following observation, which is
apparent from common sense, we can understand more clearly why the conceptual
division of society into the groups of men and women is fundamentally different
from divisions of society into socially isolatable groups: the differences in power
between the members of a family tend to be far less than the differences in power
that can exist between members of different families. This would be true even if, say,
in all cases men had greater power in a family than women, which is doubtful
anyway. For example, the First Lady may have less power than the President of the
United States, but she clearly has a great deal more power than most men. Much of
this power comes through her ability to influence the President, of course, but
power is power regardless of its source. As another example, the wife and family of a
highly paid executive have access to much of the economic power that the executive
has acquired, as well as considerable influence over some of his decisions. It is
conceivable that an executive with great power, such as the president of a small
corporation, might relocate the corporate headquarters to a different city simply to
please his wife. The wife would in this case have much more power than most of the
men in the corporation. As another example, this one from history, we know that
Cleopatra exerted tremendous power over the Romans through her liaisons with
Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony. People share power with their families; similarly,
those without power also share their lack of power. The members of a poor family all
share in the poverty of the family, and the unhappiness of one spouse in a marriage
inevitably undermines the happiness of the other. Families share their successes and
failures, their wealth or poverty, their happiness or unhappiness. It can readily be
seen that the disparities in power between the members of a family are, on the
average, much smaller than the disparities in power that can exist between different
families in a society.
Once we recognize that the disparity in power among members of a family is
much less than the disparity of power that can exist between families, it is then
apparent why women as a group cannot be oppressed in the same sense as socially

isolatable groups. The difference in power between an oppressed group and its
oppressors can be enormous, and indeed we are unlikely to use the notion of
oppression unless this disparity is substantial. We only have to consider the
difference in power between ruling classes and slave classes in ancient civilizations
to understand how enormous can be the difference in power between social groups.
But the disparity in power between men and women can only amount to the average
difference in power between the men and women in a family, which is much smaller
than the difference in power between many social groups, so small as to be
negligible in comparison to the differences in power that we associate with social
oppression. The differences in power between socially isolatable groups is
potentially and actually much greater than the differences in power between men
and women, which is a reflection of the fundamental difference between the con-
ceptual division of society into socially isolatable groups and into the groups of all
men and all women.
Once these points are understood it then becomes apparent why the arguments
of the feminists in advocating political actions to improve the situation of women are
fallacious. To demonstrate that a group is being oppressed it is necessary (but not
sufficient) to show a significant disparity between the power of that group and the
power of the remainder of society, but since there cannot be a significant disparity in
power between men and women, this is impossible to demonstrate. Moreover, to
advocate policies to improve the situation of a group that is supposedly oppressed it
must be argued that these policies will increase the power of that group, but if there
cannot be a significant disparity in power between men and women, then it is
impossible to introduce policies that will increase the power of women relative to
men. All that ethical and political actions can do is to increase or decrease the power
of men and women as a whole—that is, increase or decrease the power of society as
a whole—or to shift power from some socially isolatable groups to other socially
isolatable groups. In other words, we can adopt ethical and political actions that will
help both men and women, hurt both men and women, or help some groups of men
and women at the expense of other groups of men and women, but we cannot adopt
ethical and political actions that will help women at the expense of men. A simple
example will illustrate this point.
Let us imagine the situation of a married woman who is competing with a man
for a particular job, a job that before the enforcement of legislation forbidding
discrimination on the basis of sex would probably have been given to the man
because it would have been considered a job that was only appropriate for a man.
Let us imagine that because of legislation addressing sexual discrimination the job is
given to the woman either because she is better qualified, or possibly because the
company has a quota for hiring women and would hire her even if she is less
qualified. Is this a victory for women? No, it is not a victory for women, it is a victory

for this particular woman and, most likely, her family. It is a defeat for the man and,
most likely, his family. If the man is married it can clearly be seen that the advance-
ment of the woman by giving her this job was at the expense of the wife of the man
who was denied the job. Even if the man is unmarried, his loss of the job will still
tend to be at the expense of, say, his girlfriend, or some woman that might possibly
become his girlfriend, or his brothers, sisters, and parents. Regardless of whether
what has occurred is just or unjust, the gain is for one family at the expense of
another, not for women at the expense of men.
This example illustrates not only that the increased opportunities for women
are gains for some men and women at the expense of other men and women, but
also that it is a gain for those women who desire to pursue careers at the expense of
those women who desire a more traditional role. Let us imagine that the woman
who obtained the job wants a career, but that the man is married and his wife
doesn’t particularly want a career and would prefer to stay at home. We can see that
legislation promoting careers for women offers the man’s wife nothing to
compensate for the loss to her and her family when her husband fails to obtain the
job he sought. The only way she can take advantage of this legislation is to seek a job
or a career herself. Women’s liberation has helped the first woman, a woman who
favors the career-woman role, at the expense of the second woman, a woman who
favors the traditional role.
Once one understands that the promotion of “women’s rights” is really the
promotion of opportunities for particular social groups containing both men and
women (the women seeking these opportunities and their families), which may
occur at the expense of social groups containing both men and women (the women
who are not interested in these opportunities and their families), then the futility of
the feminists’ avowed attempts to improve the lot of women relative to men is clear.
Unless they help both men and women, they can improve the lot of some women
only at the expense of other women. This does not mean that the values and policies
advocated by the feminists are necessarily wrong—indeed, some of the ideals they
promote may conceivably improve our society. What it means is that the rationale
underlying many of their arguments is invalid. A proper analysis of the con-
sequences of feminism requires determining which social groups are helped and
which are hurt, and also whether society as a whole gains or loses. It is only through
such an analysis that we can rationally determine if the policies advocated by the
feminists are desirable.
In the next chapter I will examine some of the consequences of desegregating
the sexes—that is, reducing the social discrimination between men and women—
which is what is advocated by the feminists. At this point I want to make it clear that,
while I am criticizing the feminist ideology as a moral philosophy, and many of the
arguments that the feminists have advanced to support their policies, I am not

attempting in this book to determine whether or not specific policies are justified.
Rather, I am trying to clarify the issues. The central issue that feminism addresses is
the relative desirability of the traditional role and the career-woman role for
women, which is an issue that every woman must face in deciding how she wants to
live her life, and which society must face in deciding to what extent it ought to
encourage women to seek one role or the other or some compromise between the
two. Since this is a book on the fundamentals of moral philosophy, I am attempting
to explicate the issue and not to convince the reader that one particular answer is
right for every person. Indeed, the decision would undoubtedly have to vary from
one person to another, although in instituting laws and social policies we will have to
decide on some particular compromise as a social ideal if these laws and policies are
to be just and effective.
Chapter XVI
The Consequences of Desegregating the Sexes

The purpose of the policies and actions advocated by the feminists is to decrease the
segregation, or social discrimination, between the sexes. As explained in the last
chapter, doing this cannot increase the power of women relative to men, or men
relative to women, for if desegregating the sexes produces shifts in power among
groups in a society, it can do so only between socially isolatable groups. The
promotion of the career-woman role for women increases the power of those men
and women who benefit from women aggressively pursuing careers at the expense
of those who benefit from women working primarily as wives and mothers. Whether
changing the ideal for women from the traditional role to the career-woman role is
good or bad for society as a whole can be determined only by understanding what
the shifts in power between different groups are. In this chapter I will analyze some
of the consequences of desegregating the sexes. In doing this, I will emphasize the
problems that result from desegregation; in the next chapter, when I discuss the
forces that make some desegregation not only desirable but also inevitable, I will
point out some of the gains from desegregation.
As I explained earlier, all societies have had divisions of labor between the
sexes for important activities in the society. Some of this can be understood as
simply a matter of efficiency, since work in same-sex groups often tends to be more
productive than work in mixed-sex groups because the people doing the work are
less distracted by sexual interactions among themselves. But another important
reason is that both men and women need to develop a sexual identity, and need to
do so by participating in constructive activities that establish and confirm their
masculinity or femininity. This can best be done in activities that are restricted to a
single sex, so if society attempts to eliminate activities that are restricted to one sex
or the other, it will undermine the ability of men and women to develop a sexual
identity. As an example, we can analyze the effect of trying to eliminate the
segregation of the sexes in jobs and careers.
As I discussed and defended in Chapter XIV, Margaret Mead concluded that
184
The Consequences of Desegregating the Sexes 185
men have an inherent need to assert their masculinity and differentiate themselves
from women by achievement, and in particular by achievement in some activity in
which women are not allowed to participate. Since most men in our society have to
spend a considerable portion of their time working at a job or career, most men
must rely on their work for much of the satisfaction of this basic need. Thus, work
has a purpose for most men outside of simply providing a means of earning a living
or making a contribution to society—it is a test of their masculinity. But desegre-
gating the sexes at work undermines the masculine character of work and subjects
men to the possibility they may lose in competition with women, in which case work
tends not only to lose its ability to satisfy men’s basic need for sexual identity, but
also to make men vulnerable to a severe attack on their masculinity by being
defeated by women. Thus, men have a strong tendency to discount the femininity of
the women with whom they work, and to resist the desegregation of the sexes by
excluding women from important aspects of their work. If a man is successful in
finding a position at work in which he is effectively segregated from the women with
whom he works, then work will retain its ability to satisfy his inherent need to
assert his masculinity and differentiate himself from women. If he is unsuccessful in
finding such a position in his current organization or profession, he will be
motivated to find another job or type of work, which leads to the common
phenomenon that when the number of women in an organization or profession
becomes too great, the men leave and the organization or profession eventually
becomes dominated by women. If a man is unable to find any work that satisfies his
need to establish and confirm his masculinity, then he will have to satisfy this need
outside of work if he is to continue to grow emotionally. If he is able to satisfy this
need by activities with his family, in a church, in social organizations, in sports, or in
other such areas, then the man may be able to live a productive life even if his work
does not serve to confirm his masculinity. If this need is not met in productive
activity either at work or outside of work, however, then the man will either become
emotionally withdrawn, or will try to satisfy this need in destructive ways, which
can range from obsessive and compulsive work (“workaholism”) to using alcohol
and drugs, engaging in promiscuous sexual activity, or abusing lovers, wives, and
children. In extreme cases, a man may abandon work and constructive activities
altogether and turn to criminal activity. A man needs to assert his masculinity and
differentiate himself from women by achievement that is recognized as important to
both men and women, and will tend to do so constructively or destructively
depending on what means are provided by society to satisfy this need.
This basic need of men to achieve a masculine identity, along with a compar-
able but less intense need of women to achieve a feminine identity, underlies the
division of labor between men and women throughout society. Both men and
women desire to participate in activities that include only members of their own sex.
Since men have a particular need to achieve in activities that are recognized as

important to the society, they spend more time than women in activities that
produce results that are highly visible to the public, such as work in businesses,
professions, and sports; since women have a lesser need for such recognized
achievement, they spend less time in such activities. Of course, these generalizations
apply to average behavior, and there will always be ambitious women who reach
positions of great prominence, as well as unambitious men who are content with
anonymity, but in general the basic natures of men and women will lead to a division
of labor in society, with the positions of greatest prominence and importance being
attained by men. All societies inevitably discriminate between men and women, and
segregate men and women into different types of work activities. If, because of
government policies, personal values, or other reasons, there are forces that tend to
increasingly desegregate the sexes, then it will be more and more difficult for men
and women to satisfy their need to establish masculine and feminine identities, and
people will attempt to reimpose segregation in other ways. Since men feel this need
more acutely than women, they will resist the changes leading to desegregation
more strongly, and will be more motivated to seek new ways to reimpose
segregation. If constructive work activities that satisfy this need are not available,
then people, particularly men, will tend to seek destructive activities that satisfy this
need.
Since desegregation of the sexes makes it more difficult for men and women to
satisfy inherent sexual needs, desegregation decreases the ability of men and
women to establish and maintain successful love relationships. I use the term
“successful love relationship” to mean a heterosexual relationship that has a
reasonable amount of stability and social acceptance, a happy and stable marriage
being the most common example. For a man and woman to establish and maintain a
successful love relationship both of them need to have attained the maturity and
emotional security that comes with a firm sexual identity, but desegregating the
sexes undermines the development of a sexual identity for both men and women.
Because men are inherently less secure than women in their sexuality and are more
dependent on society to establish it, desegregating the sexes undermines the
emotional development of men more than that of women. Therefore, although both
men and women will have problems not only with becoming mature and stable
themselves, but also with finding partners who are mature and stable, men will have
the greater problem with becoming mature and stable, while women will have the
greater problem with finding mature and stable partners.
To clarify the effect of desegregating the sexes on the ability of men and women
to establish and maintain successful love relationships, I will discuss the effect of
increasing the status of women. I will define status in a special way so that its
meaning, while similar to the common usage of the term, builds upon the
understanding of human nature I have discussed in this book. I define status as

achievement, position, or power that is recognized by both men and women as im-
portant in enabling men to be dominant in their relationships with other men and
with women. When I say a man is dominant in his relationship with another man I
mean he has greater power to attain those goods that are important to both men in
enabling them to be dominant in their relationships with women; when I say a man
is dominant in his relationship with a woman I mean he has the power that is neces-
sary for both the man and the woman to feel that their interests will be met in a
relationship, as I interpreted dominance in Chapter XIII—that is, dominance by a
man over a women means that the man can be assured that the children of his mate
are his own and the woman can be assured that the man will support her and her
children. Dominance between a man and a woman in a successful love relationship
is distinctly different from dominance between two men: the latter is often competi-
tive and requires a disparity in power, while the former is mostly cooperative and
requires a balance of power. In our society dominance is established largely by
achievement in a career that brings prestige and money, both of which give a man
power to obtain wanted or needed goods, to feel secure in his control of his wife, and
to make his wife feel secure that he will support her and her children. I define status
as a measure of a man's ability to dominate other men and women, and apply the
same measure to a woman by defining her status as that which would be given to a
man in a situation comparable to hers. Although this definition of status is more
precise than commonly used, and is different from some uses of the term, it is close
to how the term is commonly used if we accept the basic principles of sociobiology
and recognize that the sexual drives of men and women underlie the structure of
society.
This definition of status allows us to simplify our thinking about the many
complex interactions that occur between men and women. Given this definition, the
following is necessarily true: a man and a woman will be able to establish and
maintain a successful love relationship only if the status of the man is greater than
that of the woman. Such a statement would probably be accepted by most people as
common sense, but I have in effect defined status so that this statement is neces-
sarily true from the principles of sociobiology. This statement is thus necessarily
true for all cultures, although the ways in which men and women attain status will
be different in different cultures. In our culture much of a person’s status in gained
through achievement in a job or career, although people also gain status through
social activities, sexual activities, and other activities outside of a job or career.
Given this definition of status, we can readily see that desegregating the sexes
will result in an increase in the status of women relative to that of men. In a society
that is completely segregated—that is, a society in which most important activities
are assigned exclusively to men or women, and the few activities in which both men
and women engage do not confer a significant amount of status upon the women—
then women will have no status at all, although they may be honored as wives and

wives and mothers and for other activities that are reserved for women. If the
society changes so that women start engaging in activities in which formerly only
men engaged, and which confer status upon the people engaging in them, then their
status will start to rise relative to that of men. But along with this rise in the status of
women will be a decrease in the ability of men and women to establish successful
love relationships. This can be seen as follows.
Let us first imagine a society that has a strict division of labor between the
sexes. Most small, primitive societies have had a strict segregation of the sexes, and
among large civilizations a good example is the traditional Chinese society, in which
women were absolutely forbidden any role outside the home—women were given
no education, and had their feet bound and reduced in size to prevent them from
leaving their homes. In such a society women have virtually no status as I have
defined it, although they are usually deeply honored as wives and mothers. In this
case the relative status of men and women is of no importance in determining
whether or not they will have a successful relationship, which will maximize the
number of successful relationships. There will still be some people who fail to
achieve successful relationships because of highly deviant behavior or personal
misfortune, but the number of such people will be much less than in any other form
of society because the structure of the society is designed to accommodate the
sexual natures of men and women. As the American novelist Pearl S. Buck discusses
in Of Men and Women (1941), the Chinese accomplished in their traditional pattern
of social life what no Western country has ever accomplished: they gave marriage to
virtually every woman. Moreover, since women were so honored as wives and
mothers, they had a great deal of power. Buck, who lived with the Chinese for many
years and wrote extensively about Chinese life, and who won the Nobel Prize for
Literature primarily for this work, points out that the women in the traditional
Chinese society were extremely powerful and confident of themselves, and that
when the revolution came it was the women, not the men, who most resisted the
change in the pattern of social life; it was the women who did not want to give up
their little feet, which were potent objects of sexual desire and the source of much of
their power. And when they did leave their homes and entered the world of work,
the Chinese women did so with a confidence much greater than American women
have ever shown. As Buck makes clear, a traditional pattern of social life can be very
good for women. Indeed, Buck claims the greatest problem with the traditional
Chinese system was that it was so unfair to men, and that when the revolution came
the men were delighted to let the women out of the homes and make them assume
the responsibilities that formerly only men assumed.
Therefore, we can see that a highly traditional society tends to maximize the
number of successful love relationships—men are given ample opportunity to assert
their masculinity and to differentiate themselves from women, while women are
cherished as wives and mothers. As Steven Goldberg notes in The Inevitability of

Patriarchy (1973), this is a basic pattern in societies: when there is a strict segre-
gation of the sexes women are highly honored as wives and mothers, and when
there is a reduction in the segregation of the sexes their work as wives and mothers
is given less honor. The ability of men and women to achieve successful relationships
is also diminished when segregation is reduced, as can be seen more clearly by
considering the hypothetical situation in which men and women have achieved
equality in status, by which I mean that the distribution of status among women is
the same as the distribution of status among men.
Let us assume that we have a society in which men and women have achieved
equality in status. Most men and women have an average amount of status, a few
men and women have very high status, and a few men and women have very low
status. The distribution in status is the same for both men and women. For simplic-
ity I will also assume that the number of men and women in the society is equal; in
the next chapter I will consider the effects of changing the ratio of men and women.
In the situation of perfect equality between men and women a large number of
people will be unable to establish a successful love relationship, for everyone in the
society could establish a successful love relationship only if everyone finds a mate of
virtually equal status, for whenever a man of a certain status chooses a woman of a
lower status there will necessarily be left without a partner a woman of status equal
to or higher than that of the man. This follows from simple arithmetic and the
assumption that a man and a woman can establish a successful love relationship
only when the status of the man is greater than that of the woman. Since a man will
tend to meet women fairly randomly, he may easily fall in love with a woman of
lower status before he happens to meet a woman of almost equal status, and in any
case he may prefer a woman of lower status if she is more attractive than a woman
of equal status, or he may feel more secure with a woman of significantly lower
status. Moreover, women will be interested in marrying men of as high a status as
they are able, so they will not make any special effort to choose only men of equal
status. There will be some forces that will tend to make men and women choose
partners of fairly comparable status, but many men and women will establish rela-
tionships in which the status of the woman is considerably lower than that of the
man, with the consequence that there will be many men and women who will be
unable to find suitable mates. Moreover, although there will be men and women of
all levels of status who fail to find mates, the women who will be unable to find
mates will tend to be those of higher status, while the men who are unable to find
mates will tend to be those of lower status.
We see that as the status of women increases relative to men the number of
men and women who can establish successful love relationships decreases. If we
now examine the hypothetical situation in which the women have all the status and
the men have none, we see that no one will be able to establish a successful love
relationship and the society will terminate after one generation. It is the recognition

that desegregating the sexes leads to a breakdown in relationships and an increase

in sexual maladjustment and social pathology that underlies George Gilder’s
contention that the feminist ideology promotes the “sexual suicide” of a society, as
he discusses in Sexual Suicide (1973) and Men and Marriage (1986).
This analysis can be amplified by considering the effects on the relationships of
men and women of sexual liberation, which seems to accompany a decrease in
discrimination between men and women. The effect of sexual liberation on the
ability of men and women to form successful love relationships can be determined
by considering its effect on the sexual experience of men and women. Sexual
experience is an important component of a person’s status, which follows not only
from common sense, but also from the definition of status I have given here. A man
who is sexually naive will have considerably less ability to control sexual access to
his partner than a man who is sexually sophisticated, particularly if his partner is
herself sexually sophisticated. His sexual experience will thus affect his ability to
dominate a woman. Sexual experience serves to raise a person’s status.
What, then, is the effect of sexual liberation on the sexual experience of men
and women? If it increased the experience of both men and women equally, then the
relative status of men and women would not be changed. That is not what happens,
however. Instead, while the sexual experience of women increases fairly uniformly,
the sexual experience of men becomes more polarized—as George Gilder notes in
Naked Nomads: Unmarried Men in America (1974), men who are faced with sexually
liberated women tend to become either much more aggressive or much more timid
sexually. For example, Gilder notes that a survey found that as virginity was
decreasing in young women it was increasing in young men, and at about the same
rate. This effect can be understood as a result of the inherently greater sexual
competitiveness of men, along with the reduction in monogamous relationships that
sexual liberation entails. In a sexually puritanical and monogamous society, each
man is restricted to one woman, but in a sexually liberated society men are no
longer restricted to one woman. Thus, they will compete more aggressively for
women, and sexual relationships will become more polygamous, with some men
getting a disproportionately large share of the women. Most women will have less
experience than the most sexually aggressive men, but more experience than the
less aggressive men. Another way to see this is to realize that women tend to have
different criteria for the men they marry and the men they have affairs with, and
women interested only in sexual experiences will pursue men of high status even if
these men are not be available for marriage. Women interested in marriage, on the
other hand, will pursue men of lower status if they appear to be available for
marriage. The young woman interested in a sexual adventure will pick a dynamic,
successful older man over an insecure, inexperienced younger man, but may well
pick the younger man if she wants to marry. With sexual liberation, men of high

status obtain access to an increasingly disproportionate share of women. This is one

of George Gilder’s arguments in Men and Marriage.
Since the men who obtain the greatest amount of sexual experience are those
men who already possess relatively high status and a great deal of experience, the
effect of sexual liberation is to further raise the median status of women relative to
men, accentuating the problems caused by the other ways in which the sexes are
desegregated. Although the amount of promiscuous sexual activity may increase, the
number of successful, long-term relationships decreases.
A breakdown in the discrimination between men and women, with the
resulting increase of status of women relative to men, decreases the ability of men
and women to form successful love relationships. The delay in seeking marriage that
often results when a woman pursues activities that increase her status further
accentuates this problem. Both men and women usually prefer relationships in
which the man is older than the woman. To some extent this reflects the need for the
status of the man to be greater than that of the woman, since status tends to increase
with age, but it can also reflect the effect of age on the ability of men and women to
conceive and bear children: a woman is most fertile and has the greatest potential of
bearing children when she is young, but age does not generally affect the ability of
the man to conceive children. Youth and its accompanying attribute, beauty, are
more important for a woman than a man. Thus, if women delay marriage into their
late twenties and thirties because they are interested in either aggressively pursuing
careers or aggressively pursuing sexual adventures, they further diminish the
opportunities for men and women to form successful love relationships.
The pursuit of careers by women, sexual liberation, and the delaying of
marriage to pursue other activities all serve to decrease the ability of men and
women to form successful love relationships. More specifically, we can see that
pursuing a career aggressively will tend to hurt a woman’s chance to marry relative
to that of a man in a comparable situation—if women pursue careers aggressively
they will, on the average, decrease their opportunities to find men to love and marry.
Since we practice monogamy in this country, it follows that for every additional
woman who fails to find a man to love and marry there must be some man
someplace who also fails to find a woman to marry, so the problem is not just a
problem for women, but rather a problem for both men and women. As I noted
before, ethical and political actions cannot help or hurt women relative to men, so
the loss of love when women pursue careers aggressively is a loss for both men and
women.
This effect of increasing the status of women is illustrated by recent develop-
ments in the small, tightly regulated city-state of Singapore, which has rapidly
modernized in the last quarter century. Officials have noted that nearly a third of the
college-aged educated women are remaining single because they cannot find men
who are better educated and wealthier then they are, even though almost all of the

less educated women continue to marry and raise families. The problem has caused
government planners so much concern that they are sponsoring social events to
help college-educated men and women meet each other, as well as trying to encour-
age young women to accept men who are less than ideal and training men in the
social skills they need for dealing with women. This trend for successful, college-
educated women to have difficulty finding husbands, as well as the related but less
publicized trend for less successful, less educated men to have difficulty finding
wives, is directly related to the emphasis on achievement and financial success given
in developed countries, and the increased education and career opportunities given
to women. This analysis has been quite general, but the process by which the
advancement in status of women affects the ability of men and women to establish
and maintain successful love relationships can be illustrated by a hypothetical
example. This example is similar to one given by George Gilder in Men and Marriage.
Let us imagine that Sharon, who is single and in her late twenties, is working
for corporation X. She has a boyfriend Mike who is a couple of years older then her
and is working for corporation Y. They have been dating for over two years and Mike
has asked Sharon to marry him, but Sharon is undecided, although the couple has
agreed to continue dating. Both Sharon and Mike are talented and ambitious, but
Sharon has some problems with Mike. She finds him a bit childish in some ways and
rather insecure, and she now knows enough about business to realize that it is not
as mysterious and difficult as she once thought it was, and because of this doesn’t
have any particular awe of Mike’s abilities. For that matter, she has come to realize
that, even though Mike is talented, he is not necessarily one to make it to the top. As
she is quite ambitious she is starting to think that she would prefer to find a man
who is better off than Mike. Whom does she find? John, one of the older executives in
her company, seems ideal to her, and she makes a play for him and succeeds in
having an affair with him even though he is married. Sharon and John fall in love
with each other, although Sharon still sees Mike. After all, John is married, and she
doesn’t know if he will leave his wife or not.
Now, how might this scenario resolve itself? Sharon may change her mind
about John, break up, and decide to marry Mike. But her ambition and the relative
attractiveness of John over Mike make this unlikely. Instead, let us imagine that the
situation continues for two or three years until finally it gets resolved. Let us
imagine that John leaves his wife Kathy and marries Sharon. This may be a good
thing for John and Sharon, but it leaves Kathy and Mike out in the cold. Since Kathy is
considerably older than Mike and past the age when she can bear children, it can be
seen that they are not likely candidates for romance, so by being released from their
former love relationships they do not increase the number of possibilities for each
other to find a suitable partner. The net affect of Sharon’s liberation is to leave

one couple with a successful relationship and two other people without successful
relationships—before liberation it would have been more likely that Sharon would
have married Mike and that John and Kathy would have remained married.
This analysis can be continued. Since Mike is reasonably successful, it is likely
that he will find someone other than Sharon to love, although probably someone of
lower status than Sharon. But in doing so he is taking out of circulation some woman
that a man of lower status than Mike might otherwise have found to love. That man
in turn may find a woman of still lower status, and the process continues until there
is some man someplace who fails to find a woman to love. Let us call this man Kevin.
From simple arithmetic it is obvious that, in a monogamous society such as ours, for
every Kathy who loses a husband to an ambitious young woman, there must be a
Kevin someplace who fails to find a wife. Thus, the net effect of Sharon’s liberation is
to leave Kathy and Kevin without mates. These two are even less likely candidates
for romance then are Kathy and Mike.
Of course, it is possible that Sharon does not succeed in convincing John to
leave his wife. In this case, she may marry Mike. But her career advancement has
made this less likely than would be the case if she had not pursued her career so
aggressively. This is one of the reasons that John is so attractive to her, for she
realizes that she will probably be frustrated with Mike and that his insecurity with
her success will limit her own achievement. She is strongly motivated to convince
John to leave his wife.
Now, let us suppose that in spite of her efforts to convince John to leave his
wife, Sharon finally realizes that he will not do this and she breaks up with him. Let
us further suppose that Mike has by this time lost interest in Sharon and found
somebody else. Sharon is now older and has achieved enough status that the
number of potential mates for her is quite limited, and she may be unable to find
anybody else. So now the two people left out in the cold are Sharon and Kevin, again
rather unlikely candidates for romance. The net effect is that we are left with a high-
status woman and a low-status man without mates, both belonging to groups for
which there is a shortage of potential partners. As with the other scenarios, women’s
liberation has reduced the number of men and women who can establish successful
love relationships.
The acceptance of values and social policies leading to the desegregation of the
sexes increases the probability of scenarios such as this, and leads to a surplus of
high-status single women and low-status single men. As high-status single women
begin to understand this situation, their motivation to induce men such as John to
leave their wives and marry them is increased and women such as Kathy who have
devoted their lives to a traditional marriage are in an increasingly precarious
position, particularly since courts are now, with the acceptance of feminist ideas,
less willing to grant alimony to such women. To a significant extent, the opportu-

nities that are given to young women who accept the career-woman role comes at
the expense of older women who have accepted the traditional role.
In this example we can again ask if the liberation of Sharon is a victory for
women. If Sharon convinces John to leave his wife, and her marriage with John is a
success, then this is a victory for Sharon and possibly a victory for John. It is clearly
bad for Kathy and Kevin. If Sharon doesn’t convince John to marry her and ends up
with no one to marry, then it may or may not be a victory for Sharon depending on
whether she finds her career success brings her more happiness than she would
have had if she had married, but Kevin has clearly lost out. It may happen that
everyone is worse off—Kathy may have found out about Sharon and made John’s life
miserable, Mike may have settled for a woman he would not have loved as much as
Sharon, Sharon may find herself lonely as she gets older, and Kevin as always gets a
bad deal. When any scenario like this is examined in detail, we find that the net
effect of women’s liberation is to shift power from one group of men and women to
another group of men and women, to increase or decrease the power of men and
women in general, or both. It does not increase the power of women relative to men.
It does decrease the ability of men and women to establish successful love relation-
ships.
That such scenarios have increased as a result of the influx of women into
serious careers is corroborated by the work of Srully Blotnick. Blotnick and his
colleagues studied the business careers and personal lives of more than five
thousand men and women over a 25-year period. In Ambitious Men: Their Drives,
Dreams, and Delusions (1987), Blotnick notes that in the late 1950’s and early
1960’s approximately 81 percent of the male managers in his study who were
having or had recently had an office affair described it as “based primarily on lust,”
but by the late 1980’s nearly 60 percent of a comparable group described theirs as
“based primarily on love.” The women with whom they became involved were
increasingly from a similar background and, because of the sexual revolution, were
often experienced sexually. Affairs in the 1980’s were likely to last longer (a median
duration of 19 months in 1986 versus 17 weeks in 1958–1959), were more likely to
lead to divorce (9.3 percent in 1986 versus 0.5 percent in 1958–1959), and were
more likely to lead to the eventual marriage of the man and woman having the affair
(4.3 percent in 1986 versus 0.2 percent in 1958–1959). The large influx of women
into the workplace had significantly destabilized marriages.
Although some career women do eventually marry men they meet at work,
Blotnick notes in Otherwise Engaged: The Private Lives of Successful Career Women
(1985) that most career women tend to discount the qualities of the men
with whom they work, and instead find relationships outside of work. Indeed,
Blotnick notes that women will fall in love with men from other companies who are
similar to the very men they disparage at work. Moreover, while women often have

impossibly harsh standards for potential mates they meet at work, Blotnick notes
that they can maintain dangerously lax standards for potential mates they meet
during their leisure hours. Many of the women in this study formed liaisons with
low-income men, often aspiring actors or others in the creative and performing arts
who held jobs as waiters or sales clerks to earn a living. Although men with serious
ambitions in such fields can be good partners, most of these men did not have the
talent and dedication necessary to be successful in these highly competitive fields.
Such men tended to be parasites in their relationships with high-income career
women, and the relationships rarely lasted. Other of the women formed relation-
ships with younger men, which also were seldom successful. Blotnick found that the
women who formed relationships with low-income men tended to have been
relatively repressed sexually when they were young, and were often attracted to the
lack of inhibition and sexual savvy of many of these men; the women who formed
relationships with younger men often had repressed their nurturing instinct when
they were young, and when it was finally expressed it was interpreted as bossiness
by their younger partners. Relationships in which the traditional pattern of the man
being greater in age and income is reversed did not usually work.
We can improve our understanding of how desegregating the sexes affects the
ability of men and women to form successful relationships by considering the effects
of accepting the feminist ideal of “equality” in a marriage. “Equality” is construed
here as meaning “sameness.” In a traditional marriage the rights and responsibilities
of husband and wife are different in ways that reflect the innate biological differ-
ences between men and women, even though in any particular society they also
reflect the cultural ideals for the behavior and roles of men and women. In our
society the traditional marriage gives to the husband the main responsibility for
supporting the family and to his wife the right to have herself and her children
supported; it also gives to the wife the main responsibility for running the
household and raising the children and responsibility to give sexual access to her
husband, and to her husband the right to expect this of his wife. The concepts of
rights and responsibilities in marriage have traditionally been embodied in the laws
governing marriage. For example, it used to be a legal right for a man to have sexual
access to his wife, and it used to be a legal right for a woman to receive support from
her husband. In the case of divorce the woman had a legal right to receive alimony to
compensate for her loss of support. Despite possible problems with the traditional
marriage, it does provide a structure that makes sense according to the principles
I discussed earlier: the man has an opportunity to assert his manhood through
achievement in a career and gains a measure of dominance and control over his
wife through supporting his family, while the wife and her children are sup-
ported by her husband. The wife compensates for the dominance and control
that the man attains through supporting the family by a greater control of the

emotional and sexual aspects of the relationship, which derives from the greater
sexual security of the woman. Both the husband and wife have power, and in a good
marriage the power of each partner is about equal and both partners feel their
needs are being met. Since the natures of men and women are different, however,
such an equality in power cannot be obtained if both husband and wife have
comparable roles in the marriage.
In this analysis, the concept of power is important. Power is simply the ability
to obtain wanted or needed goods, and equal power in a marriage requires that both
partners have an equal ability to obtain desired goods. But men and women desire
different goods because of the innate difference in their natures, so a balance of
power cannot be achieved if the roles in the marriage are assigned equally to each
partner. The “equal” marriage conceived by the feminists attempts to give greater
real power to the woman because it undermines the ability of the man to assert his
masculinity by achievement in the world of men and to obtain the dominance and
control of his wife that is necessary to compensate for the insecurity of his sexuality
relative to that of the woman. Those men who accept the demands of an “equal”
marriage will do so at great cost to themselves as well as to their partners. Their
marriages will not be robust, and will tend to eventually weaken or fail. This decline
may be abrupt, or it may be gentle, with the partners suffering from a gradual loss of
sexual interest. Some couples may be able to sustain such an arrangement for long
periods of time by such devices as avoiding deep emotional intimacy with each other
or with their work, but ultimately the feminist ideal of an “equal” marriage is simply
unworkable. Marriages require some of the structure of a traditional marriage in
order to be successful, and a compromise between a traditional marriage and a
strictly “equal” marriage is necessary. This compromise may take many forms, but it
is essential if a marriage is to be sustained.
As with other aspects of this analysis, this too is corroborated by the study of
Srully Blotnick. In Ambitious Men Blotnick explains what generally happened in the
marriages of those he studied when the wife demanded that her husband spend a
significantly greater portion of his time doing housework and taking care of the
children: the majority of men recognized that such demands would endanger their
own career success, as well as undermine their personal lives, and quietly let their
marriages fail. Even more revealing was what occurred when men stayed with their
marriages and responded to the demands of their wives: the relationships deterio-
rated anyway. Although the men did everything they were asked to do, they found
that they were essentially an object of scorn—they found themselves being taken
for granted and a target for gratuitous insults, often in front of company. But the
woman did not gain from her husband’s loss; instead, as the man’s self-confidence
and sense of masculinity eroded, so did the woman’s self-confidence and sense of

worth. In many cases, the woman quickly turned to an outside relationship for the
emotional support she no longer received at home. The attempt to make the
marriage approach the ideal of an “equal” marriage was destructive for both the
husband and the wife, and either led to the dissolution of the marriage or the decline
of both of its partners. As noted earlier, power tends to be shared among the mem-
bers of a family, so it is self-defeating to attempt to advance oneself at the expense of
one’s spouse. The initial increase in power that a woman achieves by convincing her
spouse to work towards an “equal” marriage is quickly lost as the woman loses the
emotional support that a strong relationship provides.
We see then that desegregating the sexes tends to undermine love and break up
the family, and thus can be considered a major factor in the increase in divorce and
the large number of single people in our society. Men and women of all levels of
status have increased difficulty finding love, but the women who are especially
affected are those of relatively high status, and the men who are especially affected
are those of relatively low status. The women who attain status, and the men who
fail to attain it, have the greatest difficulty finding love.
The failure to find and keep love not only affects the men and women directly
involved, but also their families. We know from the principles of sociobiology, as is
illustrated by the study of child abuse by Martin Daly and Margo Wilson that I
discussed in Chapter XIII, that an increase in divorce and remarriage tends to in-
crease child abuse. This, along with the increased use of institutional day care and
the absence from the home of women who work outside the home, means that
desegregating the sexes also tends to increase child abuse. Moreover, the large and
increasing number of families headed by single men and women further reduces the
care that is given children—we even find single women these days who are actively
trying to have a child even though they know they will not have a husband to help
raise the child. None of these consequences of desegregating the sexes seems
particularly desirable.
This analysis of the effects of desegregating the sexes has been quite general.
George Gilder gives a more detailed and specific critique of the effects of women’s
liberation in Sexual Suicide and Men and Marriage, and includes many references to
the studies of social scientists that illustrate and support his claims. Since Gilder
bases his ideas on assumptions about human nature that are similar to what I have
used in this analysis, he comes up with similar conclusions about the consequences
of attaining the goals promoted by feminism. It is clear that the increase in “equality”
between men and women comes at a severe social cost. The question then becomes
whether the gains that come from an increased “equality” between men and women
offset these losses, which requires that we better understand the forces leading to
the desegregation of the sexes; this in turn will help us to understand whether the
problems that are addressed by feminism can be solved in a manner that is less
costly to society.
Chapter XVII
The Forces Leading to Desegregation of the

Sexes
In Chapter XV, I discussed the concept of power, the ability to obtain wanted and
needed economic and sexual goods, and pointed out that, since the differences in
power between the members of a family are much less than the differences in power
that can exist between families, it is impossible to transfer power between the group
of all men and the group of all women. The real competition for power occurs
between members of the same sex, between families, and between socially isolatable
groups, not between men and women as separate groups. Women cannot uniformly
increase their power at the expense of men, and men cannot uniformly increase
their power at the expense of women. The fate of men and women are inextricably
linked together, which stems from our innate drive to love, marry, and raise families.
Any effort to set men and women apart as adversaries to each other is self-defeating.
Although power cannot be transferred from the group of all men to the group
of all women, or vice versa, it is possible to transfer status between these groups,
status being defined as I did in Chapter XVI as achievement, position, or power that
is recognized by both men and women as important in enabling men to achieve
dominance in their relationships with other men and with women. Status is related
to power, but is different in part because, while status helps a man to obtain the
economic and sexual goods that he wants and needs, it may or may not help a
woman to obtain the goods she wants and needs. An increase in status generally
improves a man’s ability to establish and maintain a successful love relationship, but
it may lessen a woman’s ability. Unlike power, status may be transferred between the
group of all men and the group of all women because it is possible for the differences
in status between the members of a family to be as great as the differences in status
that can exist between families. For example, the wife of the president of a large
corporation may have little status if she works as a homemaker and engages in
activities that are done primarily by women, although she may have a great deal of
power. In general, as the sexes are desegregated, status is shifted from men to
women. In the process, the ability of men and women to establish and maintain
198
The Forces Leading to Desegregation of the Sexes 199
successful love relationships is reduced, so the shift in status is accompanied by the

loss for some men and women of the power to obtain the economic and sexual goods
that are acquired through successful love relationships, with the women most
affected being those of higher status and the men most affected being those of lower
status.
Although women typically achieve a fair degree of status in modern, developed
societies, some societies have been highly segregated. Many small primitive societies
appear to have been almost completely segregated. In some such societies there
were male ritual cults that not only conferred great status on the men, but also were
so totally restricted to men that women would be killed if they learned the secrets of
the cult. Among large civilizations, the traditional Chinese society appears to have
been highly segregated. Such societies tend to maximize the ability of men and
women to form successful love relationships, so we would expect the fertility rate in
these societies to be high. Indeed, primitive societies do have high fertility rates, and
China seems to have been densely populated from early times, with overpopulation
recognized as a problem by ancient Chinese writers.
Despite the feasibility of highly segregated societies, it is questionable whether
a modern, developed society could be as highly segregated as most primitive socie-
ties and the traditional Chinese society. In fact, one of the most dramatic changes
that has occurred in the development of Western societies is what is called the
“demographic revolution,” a declining death rate that has been accompanied, con-
currently or some years later, with a declining birth rate. While some of the decline
in birth rate has resulted from the development of birth control devices, much of it is
undoubtedly a result of the dramatic changes in social life that have resulted from
the decline in death rate. Examining these changes can give us some insight into the
forces leading to the desegregation of the sexes.
The decline in the death rate, which first became noticeable in the West toward
the end of the nineteenth century, means that people will live longer and need to
produce and raise fewer children to maintain or expand the population. Thus, as the
death rate declines, less and less of a person’s life will be devoted to producing and
raising children. In a human population that lacks modern hygiene and treatments
for disease, even one that has abundant food and suffers from no natural disasters,
the average life span of a person is about 25 to 30 years. If a person has only 25 to 30
years in which to live, he will have much that he has to do within those years if he is
to reproduce himself. A man will have to attain a reasonably high status, father a
number of children, and possibly help raise his children. A woman will have to find a
man with whom to mate, and produce and raise several children. It is easy to
imagine that in such a society most of an adult woman’s time and energy would be
devoted to producing and raising children, and that a segregation of the sexes would

occur readily. Indeed, with the high death rate in such a population, it is likely that
the population would have to maintain this segregation if it were to survive. It is
under such conditions that Homo sapiens evolved and existed until all but the most
recent times.
Once the death rate declines, however, conditions alter considerably. People
still develop biologically at the same rate, but men and women now live to a con-
siderably greater age. Men no longer reach the peak of their status in their middle
twenties and then die in their thirties; instead, they often reach the peak of their
status in their fifties and sixties, and then die in their seventies and eighties. As
societies become more advanced people also spend more time becoming educated,
and today many men and women may already be 25 or 30 years old before they end
their formal schooling and assume responsible positions in society. Because of this,
many men and women delay marrying and raising families until well beyond the age
when they are biologically most primed for reproduction. Women will often have
many years to live after they have reached adolescence and before they marry and
produce and raise children; they will also often have many years to live after the
time when their children are raised and are no longer at home. Furthermore, with a
low death rate women are likely to raise far fewer children than they typically do in
a primitive society. All of these changes greatly reduce the amount of a woman’s life
that will be devoted to the actual production and raising of children. Although men
and women still have the same innate drives as they have always had, the conditions
of modern life have considerably altered the development of a person’s life, and in
particular have undermined the natural segregation of the work of the sexes, which
centers the work of women around the production and raising of children.
Not only has the pattern of life changed considerably in modern society, but so
too has the nature of modern culture. Primitive cultures are homogeneous, with
universally held values and beliefs. Indeed, if these beliefs and values are under-
mined the cultures can be readily destroyed, so the very survival of the society may
depend on maintaining the traditions of the culture. Such a homogeneous culture is
probably necessary in order to maintain a complete segregation of the sexes. As an
example, the traditional Chinese culture maintained a high degree of segregation,
but there were strong traditions that maintained this segregation: the feet of women
were bound, women were not educated, religious beliefs stressed the veneration of
ancestors and the importance of producing descendents, and polygamy was
practiced to give social position to any excess of women over men. While some
modern societies have quite homogeneous cultures—Japan is an example—it would
be difficult to establish such a culture in the United States, and indeed, it may be
difficult to maintain such a culture even in a country such as Japan. For one thing,
work has become highly specialized in modern society, and since people in different

occupations have different experiences, they develop different values and beliefs.
For another, with the development of modern communications, information and
ideas spread rapidly, so people are exposed to widely varying points of view.
Furthermore, a belief in freedom and democracy stresses the rights of men and
women to freely choose both what they wish to believe and also what they wish to
do as long as they do not infringe on the rights of others. In addition, even if it were
possible to establish or maintain a highly homogeneous modern culture in the
United States or elsewhere, a heterogeneous culture is more tolerant of people who
deviate from the norms of the culture, and is thus likely to be more creative. Since
the specialization of work, the development of modern communications, a belief in
freedom and democracy, a tolerance for certain types of deviant behavior, and a high
level of creativity all produce many benefits, it would appear that a heterogeneous
culture is in many ways desirable in a modern society. Such a heterogeneity
inevitably undermines the segregation of the sexes, however, so to the extent to
which heterogeneity in beliefs and values is desirable then the resulting desegrega-
tion of the sexes will have to be accepted.
Another way of explaining this is to point out that many people benefit from
the desegregation of the sexes. Life in primitive societies and undeveloped civiliza-
tions do not offer the same variety of activities that modern societies do, and it is
inevitable that with a wide choice of things to do it will be advantageous for some
women to participate in activities that are usually done by men, and vice versa. In
particular, jobs and careers do offer many rewards, and while it may not be wise for
a woman always to devote as much time and energy to them as a man might, it can
still be to her advantage to devote a significant amount of effort to them. Many
women have been successful at balancing their careers and their family life, and
their careers have been a help to them and their families; older women who have
already raised a family may need to pursue jobs or careers, or some other important
activities, in order to have a real purpose to their lives; and single women will often
be faced with the need to support themselves. As I discussed in Chapter III, much of
what Betty Friedan points out in The Feminine Mystique (1963) about the problems
of modern women who attempt to limit themselves to just being wives and mothers
is probably true, and some commitment to purposeful activity outside of the home
may be important for many women. For all of these reasons, it will be advantageous
for some women to pursue jobs and careers and engage in other activities that are
usually done by men, and with the tradition of freedom strongly embedded in the
American character, they undoubtedly will do so. To the extent to which such
activities are productive and improve the lives of people and contribute to society,
then the resulting desegregation of the sexes will have to be accepted as desirable.
Once we recognize that a significant desegregation of the sexes is inevitable

in modern society, then this must be considered in establishing social ideals. If we

set strictly traditional roles as social ideals, and enforce these ideals with legal and
social sanctions, then we impose a severe penalty on the people who are unable to
attain these ideals. Indeed, this presents a classic moral dilemma, for we need to
strike a balance between encouraging people to adopt behavior that is probably best
for them and society in the long run, and helping those who through choice or
circumstances do not meet the standards we set. It is difficult to do both equally
well, however, for the more support we give to those who do not fit our social ideals
the more we encourage others to behave in a similar way. Encouraging women to
pursue careers and supporting them in their efforts may be fine for those women
who are able to succeed in both their careers and in finding a husband and raising a
family, or who would be happier with a career than with a family, but it may be a
disservice to those women who are unable to do both but really desire a family more
than a career. We inevitably face such problems whenever we balance objectives in
establishing social ideals for sexual behavior, marriage, and the social roles of men
and women.
Given that it is infeasible and undesirable for a modern society to either be
completely segregated or completely desegregated, one of the important functions
of a sound moral philosophy is to help us understand how best to balance conflicting
objectives in making decisions about the social ideals we should adopt, as well as
how best to make our own personal decisions about what roles we wish to assume.
What is critical to understand is that a balancing of objectives is almost always
required. This is one of the principal failings of the feminist ideology, for it views all
the problems of society as resulting from the segregation of the sexes, and the
solution to all these problems as being the total desegregation of the sexes. The truth
is that some of the problems of women are probably caused by too great a
segregation in some areas of their lives, and too little segregation in others. To
assume that the social discrimination that exists between the sexes is purely the
result of cultural forces and has no basis in biology, and to assert that eliminating
this discrimination is the solution to modern social problems, is both simplistic and
wrong. Because of this, the actions and policies promoted by the feminists have been
self-defeating. As Betty Friedan herself notes in The Second Stage (1981), it seems to
many that, overall, women have made few gains despite two decades of women’s
liberation. This is because women cannot expect to make gains at the expense of
men, so the gains that some women have made, mostly those that have prospered in
their careers and have still maintained a good personal life, have been at the expense
of other women, mostly those who have had their personal lives undermined
either because of their own actions or because of problems that the men in their
lives have encountered. Even many of the smaller things that feminism has
promoted, such as their drive to eliminate “sexism” in writing style and in

personal etiquette, have only served to increase the irritations and rudeness one
encounters in everyday life, as well as undermining romance by constantly setting
up men and women as antagonists. These are the inevitable results of a philosophy
that assumes a vast conspiracy by men against women, and then takes every exam-
ple of segregation of the sexes as evidence for that conspiracy.
In addition to being simplistic and wrong in its analysis of the reasons for
discrimination between men and women, the feminist ideology also fails to
recognize that the problems that women face are similar in many ways to the
problems that men face. For example, the problems of middle-class and upper-
middle-class women that Betty Friedan discusses in The Feminine Mystique are
problems of alienation and lack of purpose in life, which are problems that have
been discussed frequently in examining modern society. These are problems that
both men and women face, and the best solution is not necessarily to increase the
freedom and opportunities for women, but rather to better define a clearly feminine
role for women that is compatible with the realities of modern social life. Indeed, in
The New Chastity and Other Arguments Against Women’s Liberation (1972), Midge
Decter contends that the problem that modern women face is not that they have
insufficient freedom and power, but rather that they have not learned how to deal
with the freedom and power they already possess—the women’s liberation
movement is not a response to a lack of freedom and power, but rather a response to
the anxiety that freedom and power creates. Perhaps as the biological role of
producing and raising children has been diminished for women simply because
people live so long and few children die in childhood, women do need to play a more
significant and important role in our society, but simply trying to imitate the roles
that men assume may not be the answer. If there is to be an answer, it must be based
on a sound moral philosophy that incorporates a realistic view of the structure of
society and the ways in which men and women relate.
In addition to the problems presented by the changes in modern society that
have diminished the amount of time that women spend producing and raising
children, there are also the problems that women face establishing and maintaining
successful love relationships. I pointed out in the last chapter that while desegregat-
ing the sexes tends to produce women who are immature and emotionally unstable,
it tends to produce even more men with such problems. Thus, while many women
will have difficulty with relationships because of their own actions, many others will
have difficulty mostly because of the behavior of the men they find. The emotional
difficulties of women have undoubtedly been a major factor in the rise of modern
feminism. Although Betty Friedan contends in The Feminine Mystique that the
problems that middle-class and upper-middle-class housewives faced were not
primarily sexual problems, if we examine the work of other feminists, particularly
the radical feminists who emerged from other radical political movements of the

1960’s, we can see that anxiety with sexual problems is a major component of the
women’s movement. Women with pronounced conflicts about men have always
been prominent supporters of feminism. Much of their anger is directed towards the
“double standard” which justifies a looser sexual morality for men than for women;
as Midge Decter points out in The New Chastity, many women in the movement
were bitter about philandering husbands and boyfriends. These women have
attempted to solve these problems by denying the female desire for sexual loyalty
and asserting that women should be as free as men to pursue sexual activities. The
sexual revolution developed concurrently with the women’s liberation movement,
and many feminists have supported the ideas of sexual liberation—the “equal”
marriage is readily interpreted as an “open” marriage in which both partners have
equal freedom to explore outside sexual relationships. From the analysis I gave in
the last chapter, we can see that these views, along with decreasing the segregation
between the sexes, are more likely to increase sexual problems for women than to
decrease them. Such values also undermine the sexual loyalty that is an essential
characteristic of the family.
If sexual problems with men are a major reason that women turn to feminism,
then it is useful to ask why so many women seem to be having such problems. The
widespread confusion in our culture about moral values, which reflects the
confusion and incoherence in our intellectual thought, is undoubtedly part of the
problem. But another force that may make a major contribution is a numerical
shortage of men, which leads men to value women less then they would if there
were fewer women. In Too Many Women: The Sex Ratio Question (1983), Marcia
Guttentag and Paul F. Secord present the thesis that societies tend to be stable and
have a strongly traditional division of labor when the ratio of men to women is high,
while they become less stable and develop strong tendencies to liberate women
from the traditional role when the ratio of men to women is low. The reason for this
is that when sex ratios are high and women are in short supply, they are highly
valued as wives and mothers, but when there is an excess of women, they are valued
less. When women are highly valued as wives and mothers marriages are stable, but
when women are less valued marriages are less stable. Guttentag and Secord
examined societies in ancient Greece and in the Middle Ages, Orthodox Jewish
communities (which have an unusually high sex ratio, probably due to religious
practices), frontier communities in the United States, and white and black groups in
the present-day United States, and found that high-sex-ratio societies differed from
low-sex-ratio societies in consistent ways: in high-sex-ratio societies women are
honored but confined to the home, virginity is often prized, adultery is considered a
serious offense, particularly for a woman, and men marry at a young age and stay
married, while in low-sex-ratio societies women are less honored but have more
opportunities outside of the home, virginity is less highly prized, adultery is not

considered such a serious offense, fewer men marry, men marry at a later age, and
both men and women are more likely to get divorced. The high-sex-ratio societies
tend to be sexually puritanical, while the low-sex-ratio societies tend to be sexually
liberated. In the United States the sex ratio has been fairly high for most of our
history, but it started to drop steadily from a ratio for all ages of 1.06 in 1910 to 0.95
in 1980. Guttentag and Secord speculate that much of the present feminist
movement, as well as the sexual revolution, has its roots in the shortage of available
men and the problems that women encounter because of this shortage. In particular,
because there are so many women available, women will tend to feel manipulated
and exploited, and will have to settle for spouses who are less desirable than they
may feel they deserve.
This analysis by Guttentag and Secord makes sense when we consider the
sexual natures of men and women, although Guttentag and Secord attempt to be
neutral about the question of whether or not there are significant innate differences
in the behavior of men and women. The ability of a person to obtain sexual contacts
with members of the opposite sex will, on the average, depend on the number of
members of the opposite sex that are available. If there is a shortage of one sex or
the other, the members of the sex that is in short supply will be better able to satisfy
their sexual desires. Women tend to be less promiscuous than men, and are primar-
ily interested in having men support them and their children, so if women are in
short supply they will be able to induce men to accept these desires, and men and
women are both less likely to be promiscuous. The society will tend to be sexually
puritanical, and marriages will tend to be more stable because men will have fewer
opportunities to satisfy their desires for sexual variety. Men tend to be more pro-
miscuous than women and interested in sexual relationships with a variety of
women, so if men are in short supply, they will be able to induce women to accept
these desires, and men and women are both more likely to be promiscuous. The
society will tend to be sexually liberated, and marriages will tend to be less stable
because men will have greater opportunities to satisfy their desires for sexual
variety. The society reflects the sexual nature of the sex that is in short supply
because that sex will have the ability to induce the members of the opposite sex to
submit to its intrinsic desires.
As Guttentag and Secord point out, many societies have practiced female
infanticide or female neglect, which may have developed out of a recognition that an
excess of females makes a society less stable. If there is an excess of males, then
although the men who are unable to find wives may be unhappy, the society will still
be stable because the family will be stable. Moreover, the men who are unable to find
wives will tend to be of low status and with little power in the society, and thus will
have little ability to impact the society. If there is an excess of females, then the
society will tend to be unstable because the family will be unstable. Moreover, the

women who are unable to find husbands will tend to be of relatively high status, so
they will have the ability to impact the society. Guttentag and Secord found that
feminism occurs in low-sex-ratio societies, which may reflect the frustrations of
women of relatively high status who have been denied access to the mainstream of
society because they have been unable to find husbands, or who have suffered from
the denial of their female sexual nature that is forced upon them by society.
According to the Statistical Abstract of the United States (1985), in 1984 there
were 34,072,000 males and 34,779,000 females from eighteen to thirty-four years
old, which are the prime years for courtship and marriage. This leaves an excess of
707,000 females, and yields a sex ratio of 0.98. Although this is not a dramatic excess
of women, if one considers that homosexuality and such severe social and sexual
problems as crime, drug addiction, and child molestation are much more common in
men than in women, then the excess could be significant. Nevertheless, it should be
noted that in this age group the number of never-married males is 17,380,000
compared with 13,446,00 never-married females, and if we consider widowed and
divorced males and females, the number of unmarried males is 18,992,000
compared with 15,971,000 unmarried females. In other words, there is actually an
excess of unmarried men in this age group. Among those thirty-five years of age and
older, however, there are 8,522,000 unmarried males compared with 18,881,000
unmarried females. Men of all ages compete for the younger females, and younger
men and older women are the ones who tend to be without mates. The social
problems in societies with a low sex ratio may result more from the problems of
older women (and younger men) than from the problems of younger women.
The sex ratio is an important concept in sociobiology, and a study of the social
effects of changes in the sex ratio should become an area of active sociobiological
research. If marriage patterns and sexual behavior are highly correlated with the sex
ratio, as Guttentag and Secord contend, then our current social problems will be
difficult to solve unless the sex ratio can be increased. We are presently developing
the technology to choose the sex of a child prior to conception, so if morally accept-
able ways are found to do so, we conceivably could alter the sex ratio in our society;
the natural preference of parents for male children may be sufficient to do this. The
result could be a dramatic change in the sexual values of men and women towards a
less liberated sexuality and a stabilization of the family. As George Gilder notes in
Sexual Suicide (1973) and Men and Marriage (1986), modern society requires that
the males be socialized to the longer time horizons of female sexuality—when men
are able to coerce women into accepting the shorter time horizons of male sexuality
the society can easily be disrupted by the males who have not been socialized.
Increasing the sex ratio would give females the power to coerce the males into
accepting sex and love on female terms, which ultimately stabilizes society and

reduces the sexual maladjustment of both males and females. Society benefits if
females have the ability to force men to accept sex and love on female terms.
Although the findings of Guttentag and Secord can be readily interpreted using
the ideas of sociobiology, these authors instead use a model to analyze their data
that assumes that the differences between high-sex-ratio and low-sex-ratio societies
are not a result of innate differences in the sexual behavior of men and women, but
instead are a result of men having greater structural power than women, structural
power being the total of economic, political, and other powers. This analysis is mis-
leading, however, because it incorrectly assumes that men have more power than
women. This is incorrect because power is distributed among the members of a
family, and the differences in power within a family are small relative to the
differences of power between socially isolatable groups in society. The power of
women tends to be more indirect than the power of men, but just because it is less
readily measured does not mean that it does not exist. The differences in character
between high-sex-ratio societies and low-sex-ratio societies are a result of the innate
differences in the sexual behavior of men and women. Guttentag and Secord make
the suggestion that ultimately the sexual problems of our society could be solved if
women obtain the structural power in our society, in which case men would
presumably stay home and take care of the children while the women go out and
earn the living; in other words, our sexual problems could be solved if there was a
true reversal of social roles for men and women. Such a reversal of social roles is
clearly impossible, however, and power cannot be transferred from men to women
because power can only be transferred between socially isolatable groups.
The question of the effect of the sex ratio on the behavior of men and women is
important because the degree of segregation of the sexes in society will be related to
the sex ratio, with a higher sex ratio leading to greater segregation and a lower sex
ratio leading to lesser segregation. It is conceivable that even a modern, developed
society could have a nearly complete segregation of the sexes if the sex ratio were
high enough. Most women would be able to marry a man they found desirable and
thus could obtain a great deal of power through their family connections, and would
be less motivated to seek activities in which they compete with men for economic
rewards. Such a society would probably be more stable, social pathology would be
minimized, and people would be happier, although such a society might also be less
adaptable to change, less creative, and harsher for those who do not fit within the
traditional structure. There is undoubtedly an optimum sex ratio for a society, and
altering the sex ratio may be one of the most effective means we have to solve social
problems.
Chapter XVIII
The Ultimate Goal of Life

In Chapter II, I developed some of the basic principles of moral philosophy. By an
appeal to common sense I asserted that there are a variety of things we want and
need in life, and that some of these are more important than others. The things that
we want or need I called “ends” or “goals,” and I asserted that we consider some
ends as leading to other ends of a higher order. Ends that lead to other ends I called
“means.” Furthermore, I asserted that as our lives progress we become concerned
with ends of greater importance, a concept that I called “growth.” I summarized
these commonsense observations as follows: we have different ends we want and
need, some of these ends are means to ends of greater importance, and as we grow
we become concerned with ends of increasing importance. This observation under-
lies all of moral philosophy.
The essence of moral action can be understood as the choice of ends to pursue
and the means to obtain them. The purpose of moral philosophy is to give us con-
cepts that help us to make good moral choices; in other words, moral philosophy
uses reasoning to enhance our moral virtue, moral virtue being a disposition of the
will to choose correctly what one ought to seek in life and what one ought or ought
not to do. Moral philosophy is, of course, not the only way to enhance moral virtue.
For one thing, a person needs to experience life, and to experience it emotionally and
spiritually as well as rationally. A person may have a superb intellect, be highly
trained in the sciences and philosophy, and have an extraordinary ability for rational
analysis, but if he is unable to feel and express his emotions and to understand his
own spiritual drives, he will necessarily be limited in his ability to understand
himself and his life, and will not be able to consistently make good choices as to
what ends he ought to seek in life and how he ought to get them. The love and
guidance a person receives from parents, family, friends, and society in general, the
commitment he makes to family, friends, and work, the time and energy he devotes
to artistic experience and expression, and the effort he makes to understand his
spiritual nature, are all important in developing moral virtue. Nevertheless, while
moral philosophy alone is not sufficient for developing moral virtue, it is of great
importance in helping us to sort out the complex choices we need to make.
208
The Ultimate Goal of Life 209
Despite the importance of moral philosophy, no sound moral philosophy can

possibly give us an exact plan for how we ought to live our lives, or exact
prescriptions as to what we ought or ought not to do. It cannot prescribe that, say, it
is good or bad to have sexual relations prior to marriage, or that careers are good or
bad for women. Individual circumstances are too varied to make any such conclu-
sions. For instance, it may be good for unmarried teenagers to avoid premarital sex,
but it may be rather silly to expect the same of single people in their thirties; it may
be good for a talented woman who has always dreamed of being a physician to
pursue a career in medicine, but it may be bad for a woman who wants to raise a
large family to devote many years to a particularly demanding profession. Individual
talents, interests, and circumstances vary, and universal prescriptions as to what
people in general ought or ought not to do are of dubious value. What moral
philosophy can do is to establish basic principles that help us to sort through the
experiences we face in life and the conflicting advice that we are given. Throughout
this book I have discussed the most general principles of philosophy and science in
order to explain which of the ideas that are relevant to moral philosophy are true
and which are false. Underlying all of this discussion is the concept that it is possible
to determine beyond a reasonable doubt the truth and falseness of moral ideas, as
well as the truth or falseness of other fundamental philosophical concepts. In doing
this I have developed much of the philosophical and scientific foundations of moral
philosophy. In the remainder of this book I will again make an appeal to the common
sense of the reader to explicate in greater detail a few more principles that are
important for us to understand in order that we will be able to make good ethical
choices in our lives, and good political choices for our society.
Moral philosophy is closely related to moral theology, but it is beyond the scope
of this book to discuss the issues of moral theology. As I explained in Chapter IX, all
that reason alone can do in explicating the nature of God is to develop some
understanding of his nature and to prove or disprove his existence. Once one proves
the existence of God, it is apparent that God must be important to our lives and that
an understanding of our relationship to God is important in deciding how we ought
to live our lives; from this, one can validly make the argument that it is impossible to
adequately solve the problems of the good life and the good society without refer-
ence to God and the knowledge we obtain of him through faith. This may be true, but
the difficulty with moral theology is that it is relevant only to those who share the
faith on which it is constructed. Since spiritual experiences are quite individual, and
religious ideas cannot be supported or refuted except by an appeal to religious faith,
moral theology cannot be used to construct a general moral philosophy, and in
particular it cannot be used as the basis for political values in a society such as ours
that separates the state from religion. This does not mean that there needs to be a

conflict between moral philosophy and moral theology, however. Perhaps the best
way of understanding the relationship between moral philosophy and moral
theology is to consider moral philosophy as the foundation for moral thinking, and
then to use religious thought to supplement and enrich the ideas that have been
developed by moral philosophy. All the experiences we have in our lives supplement
and enrich the ideas of moral philosophy, and our spiritual experiences help make a
general moral philosophy personal, as do all our experiences in life. Moral
philosophy provides us with values that can be shared with all people regardless of
their religious faith or lack of faith, while moral theology provides us with values
that express our own spiritual experiences and those of others with whom we share
a faith. It is a misapplication of moral theology, however, to use it to refute what we
can understand through reason. Faith should be used to enrich our understanding of
our lives and our world by going beyond what we can learn using reason, and not to
deny or falsify what we can determine from reason to be true.
With these considerations in mind, we can turn to the central question of
ethics, which is the question of how one can make a good life for oneself. Since moral
philosophy, both ethics and politics, deals with concepts for making choices as to
what we ought to seek in life and what we ought or ought not to do, an important
component of moral philosophy is how we ought to plan our lives and the
development of our society. That is, we make choices not just because of immediate
consequences, but also because of consequences later in our lives and later in the
development of our society. Much of ethics, then, is knowing how to make a plan for
living one’s life. A few general observations are important.
First, our life contains a span of time from birth to death, and during that span
of time we have some freedom to choose what we will do. The choice to act is a
manifestation of the freedom of will that all human beings possess. Of course, we are
limited in our choices in a number of ways, not only by the direct physical limitation
that our will acts through our bodies and that the physical construction of our
bodies govern our actions, but also by constraints on our freedom that come from
outside of ourselves. For example, if we are born into slavery we may have little
choice over most of our actions, although we will still have some choice. Despite the
presence or absence of freedom of various sorts, however, we still are faced with the
necessity to make decisions about what we ought to do with the time we are given
from birth to death. Whether our life is good or bad, we will have to live our life from
birth to death.
Second, the choices we make will have a profound effect on our life. Of course,
the choices we make are not the only thing that will affect our life, for there is always
some element of chance in how our life turns out. Even a person with good moral
virtue, who because of this virtue is disposed to making correct decisions, can have
his life ruined by misfortune. These misfortunes can include disease, accidents,

death or injury to loved ones, encounters with people who act to harm us, and social
problems in the society in which we live. Thus, we can suffer from failure or disaster
for reasons totally beyond our control, and many people would perhaps be justified
in blaming their plight on the actions of others or the evil of the society in which
they live. But our problems can also be the result of our own actions. Moreover, since
we have little control over the environment in which we live and the actions of other
people, and what control we do have lies in the actions we take, it is of little value to
a rational analysis of our problems to blame these problems on the actions of others
or on the society in which we live. Although it may be of some emotional value to
shift the blame for our fate from ourselves to others, and an understanding of how
the actions of others in our society affect the quality of our life is useful in planning
what actions we ought to take, it is nevertheless intrinsic to making sound moral
choices to recognize that our own actions have a profound effect on our life and that
we must take responsibility for how our life turns out.
Third, there is throughout our life a trade-off between short-term and long-
term goals. The choices we make at any one time affect not only our life at that time,
but also our life in the future. What may be most beneficial to us in the immediate
future may be detrimental to us in the distant future, and we must balance the one
versus the other. If we emphasize only short-term goals we may make choices that
will eventually harm or even ruin our life, while if we emphasize only long-term
goals, we may miss much of the fun and pleasure that comes from enjoying our life
as we live it. Neither approach is likely to lead to a good life.
These three observations lead to two important conclusions. First, we can
conclude that we must have some plan for our life as a whole if we are to lead a good
life; as Socrates said long ago, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” Furthermore,
if we are to have some plan for our life as a whole, then we must have some goal for
our life as a whole. This goal can be considered the ultimate goal of life, and since
this goal is a goal for our life as a whole, we can conclude that we must think of the
ultimate goal of life as something that is characteristic of our life as a whole and not
as something that is obtained or occurs at some point in our life. These two
conclusions deserve further comment.
The first conclusion was that we need some plan for our life as a whole. That is,
in order to make good choices we must understand where we are going and what we
wish to obtain throughout our entire life. In a sense, the younger we are the more
important such a plan is for developing rational decisions about what we ought to
do, for the decisions we make when we are young are often the most important
decisions we will make because they affect the entire remainder of our life, while
those we make when we are older affect only that part of our life that is left to us. Of
course, when we are young we are often the least capable of planning our life as a
whole and making rational decisions about what we ought or ought not to do, so the
guidance we obtain from our parents and other people in our society is crucial. As a

rule, the younger we are the better able are our parents and other people in society
to know what we ought or ought not to do, so although the decisions we make when
we are young may be critical decisions, we are also in many cases able to get good
advice as to what we should do. As we get older, the responsibility for making
decisions falls increasingly on ourselves and we can expect less and less guidance
from parents and other people in society. The less we rely on guidance from others
the more we will have to rely on guidance from a plan for our life as a whole, so as
we get older the more imperative it becomes that we plan our life. Thus, there is a
decided shift as we get older from relying on others to provide direction for our life
to relying on ourselves for this direction. The earlier we are able to understand how
our life ought to develop the better we will be able to plan what we ought or ought
not to do.
While a plan for our life as a whole is important, it is difficult in modern society
to see our life as a whole. In earlier times, when family members often lived close to
each other, a child often had grandparents as well as parents with whom to interact,
and the whole progression of life was perhaps more apparent to young people. As
Margaret Mead notes in Male and Female (1949), this is particularly true in primi-
tive cultures: small, intimate communities allow a young person to see the entire
progression of life and to establish a firm sense of what is expected of him in his
society. In contrast, in modern societies there tends to be a strong segregation by
age. For example, most colleges, graduate schools, and professional schools are
populated primarily by young and often single men and women, and suburban com-
munities often tend to separate young married couples and older families into
separate subdivisions because people tend to move to more expensive housing as
they advance in income. Trends like this serve to separate the generations and limit
their interaction.
In addition to segregation by age and the resultant limitation on interaction
between different age groups, the wide diversity of life styles in our society
sometimes make it difficult for people to make practical plans for their lives. This
problem is accentuated by the promotion of unrealistic lifestyles in the media, such
as on television and in magazines such as Playboy and Cosmopolitan that portray as
common and desirable a lifestyle that is a fantasy for most people. As a number of
commentators have noted, most single people think that other singles are having
more fun and enjoying more sex than they actually are; in other words, people think
that the lifestyles that are portrayed on television and in magazines such as Playboy
and Cosmopolitan exist for a significant number of people for a significant portion of
their lives. This is not true, and such distorted views of reality will tend to encourage
people to make unrealistic plans for their own lives.
Another reason that it is difficult to see our life as a whole in modern society

is that our society is changing so rapidly that young people are likely to live lives that
are quite different from what their parents lived. Before modern times the changes
from one generation to the next were usually so slow as to be imperceptible to most
people, and young people expected to have lives very similar to what their parents
and grandparents had. This is no longer true, which makes it more difficult to plan
one’s life as a whole and also makes it more difficult for the older generations to
advise the younger generations. Because of this, choices are more complicated than
they would otherwise be.
The second conclusion I made above is that the ultimate goal of life must be
something that is characteristic of our life as a whole and not something that is
obtained or occurs at some point in our life. This conclusion also follows from the
assertion I made in Chapter II that all our ultimate ends ought to be imperceptible
ends. That is, we cannot define as an ultimate end in our life something that we can
actually possess or experience during our lives. Of course, the ultimate end or goal in
life is just one among a class of ultimate ends, and as I discussed in Chapter II, there
may be a hierarchy of ends within this class just as there are hierarchy of ends in the
classes of economic goods and sexual goods. All imperceptible ends, such as security
or fulfillment, belong to this class. But among these ends the ultimate goal of our life
occupies a unique position because it provides a focus for our moral choices. Other
ultimate ends may be considered as components of this ultimate end, but this
ultimate end represents in some sense the total good that we can obtain in life. What
ought this ultimate end be?
In deciding what this ultimate end ought to be, it is useful to turn to some basic
insights in moral philosophy that were made in ancient times by Aristotle. These are
described by Mortimer J. Adler in The Time of Our Lives: The Ethics of Common
Sense (1970), which is an exposition and refinement of Aristotelian ethics. Adler also
discusses some of these ideas in Ten Philosophical Mistakes (1985). The moral
philosophy I am developing in this book is Aristotelian in basic character, and these
books, as well as the expositions of ethics by Aristotle and such followers of Aristotle
as Thomas Aquinas, are useful in that they add much to what I discuss in this book.
In particular, Adler discusses and refutes many of the arguments given by
philosophers who have criticized the ethics of Aristotle, refutations that are implicit
in the philosophy I have developed in this book.
When asked what they desire in life, many people will reply that they want to
be happy, or, in other words, that their ultimate goal in life is happiness. But what
does happiness mean? Many people tend to think of happiness as contentment, the
psychological feeling of being at peace that people often feel when they have ob-
tained some goal that they have desired. Indeed, it is at such times that we are likely
to consider ourselves happy, yet some reflection on how our lives develop makes it
apparent that happiness conceived as contentment cannot possibly be a goal for our

lives because it doesn’t provide us with any understanding of what we ought to do to

obtain it. First, we all know that contentment is not something that we can feel at all
times in our lives, for the feeling of contentment often comes after a period of
struggle during which we decidedly do not feel content. Moreover, we know that
once we become content we must eventually establish some new goal for which to
strive, or else our contentment will pass away and will be replaced with boredom
and anxiety. And finally, while contentment may be a psychological state that we feel
after obtaining some goal, simply deciding that we wish to be content does not tell
us anything about what goals we need to obtain in order to be content. Contentment,
or happiness conceived as meaning a psychological state such as contentment,
cannot be chosen as the ultimate goal of life.
To solve this problem, people may resort to equating happiness with pleasure
rather than with contentment. This solves part of the problem because it is relatively
easy to identify things that give us pleasure, such as food, sex, and companionship,
but it doesn’t solve the problem completely because we know that there are things
in life that make us happy even though they are not necessarily pleasant at the time
we are experiencing them. Many of the most rewarding things in life require
sacrifice and struggle in order to obtain.
The basic problem with such conceptions of happiness is that they all attempt
to understand happiness as a perceptible end rather than as an imperceptible end.
This leads to the logical contradiction I discussed in Chapter II: we are attempting to
set as an ultimate end something that may serve as a means to another perceptible
end. If we wish to consider happiness as the ultimate goal of our lives, which cor-
responds closely to how people use the term, then we need to understand happiness
as the ethical state of a morally good life, and not as a psychological state. A morally
good life is an imperceptible end and not a perceptible end, and moreover, it is an
end that is characteristic of one’s life as a whole and not of any particular portion of
one’s life. In other words, one cannot say at any particular moment that one is happy,
or that one has obtained happiness, when the terms are used in this sense, but
rather one can only say of a life that it is in the process of being a happy life and that
it may be a happy life when it is complete. It is a quality of one’s life as a whole, and
not a perceptible end that can be obtained or experienced during one’s life.
Instead of considering happiness to be the psychological state of contentment
or some other perceptible end, we need to understand happiness as the quality of a
morally good life, a life in which one obtains the ends that one ought to obtain. When
happiness is conceived in this sense, then it becomes self-evident that happiness
must be the ultimate goal towards which we strive in our life. Happiness is not one
good among others, and it is not the highest good, but rather it is the total good, the
sum of all the goods that we can obtain in this life. It is also not something

that we ever obtain finally and for all time at some point during our lives, but rather
it is something that characterizes our life as our life develops. We can compare
happiness in a sense to the quality of beauty for a piece of music that is being
performed: an orchestra obtains beauty or excellence not as something that is final
or complete at one moment, but rather as something that is characteristic of the
performance as a whole.
I noted earlier that in the class of ultimate ends there can be a hierarchy of
ends, just as there is a hierarchy of goods in the classes of economic goods and
sexual goods. However, if we conceive of happiness as the total good and not the
highest good, then we must not think of happiness as the highest end in a hierarchy
of ultimate ends, but rather as the total of all ends, both perceptible ends and imper-
ceptible ends. Thus, there are two distinctions that are necessary to understand if
we are to conceive of happiness properly: first, that being an ultimate end, it is an
imperceptible end and not a perceptible end (and thus cannot be the psychological
state of contentment), and second, that it is a characteristic of one’s life as a whole
and is the total of all goods and ultimate ends. Of course, in casual talk we may use
the terms “happy” and “happiness” to refer to psychological states, as is commonly
done, but if we use happiness to mean something that is the ultimate goal of life we
must conceive of it properly as the ethical state of a morally good life.
At this point, those readers who accept a religious or spiritual interpretation of
the purpose of life may object that happiness, even happiness conceived of as the
ethical state of a morally good life, must be secondary to our spiritual obligations,
such as our duty to accept God’s will for our lives. Two comments are in order. First,
such spiritual obligations can only be established by religious faith, and not by
reason, so happiness as defined here is the only ultimate goal of life that can be
established by philosophy, even if in religious thought one can logically conclude
that there are goals of a higher order. And second, since this moral philosophy af-
firms the existence of God, it is a God-centered philosophy, which means in spiritual
terms that it confirms the existence of a destiny to our lives that is defined for us by
God’s will. Thus, in any system of religious thought that is consistent with this
philosophy, happiness defined philosophically as the ultimate goal of life will
become synonymous with the spiritual goal of accepting God’s will for our lives.
There will then be no conflict between the ultimate goal of life as defined by
philosophy and the ultimate goal of life as defined by religious faith. This is in sharp
contrast to man-centered philosophies such as existentialism, which by denying any
objective basis for making moral choices, effectively deny the existence of a destiny
to our lives, and thus deny the ability of God to provide direction to our lives.
Closely related to this conception of happiness as the ultimate end of life is the
distinction between natural and acquired desires, or needs and wants, and the

related distinction between real and apparent goods. As I discussed in Chapter II,
real goods are perceptible ends that a person actually needs, while apparent goods
are perceptible ends that are only something a person wants and not something a
person actually needs. A person may want a promotion and new title at work, but
may find that once he obtains them he is not content but rather depressed and
anxious, which is an indication that he has striven for an apparent goods and not a
real goods. The same may be true of a person who strives to become wealthy and
finds that he is miserable once he has become wealthy. Given these definitions of
real and apparent goods, it is then self-evident that we ought to desire whatever is
really good for us and nothing else. Adler takes this as a first principle of moral
philosophy in The Time of Our Lives and Ten Philosophical Mistakes. It is a self-
evident truth because it is impossible to think the opposite, that we ought to desire
what is really bad for us, or ought not to desire what is really good for us.
A more profound statement of this self-evident truth is the first principle of
moral philosophy that I presented in Chapter VII: our moral science should be
symmetric with respect to our metaphysical science. In other words, what our
understanding of the world tells us we ought or ought not to do is what we ought or
ought not to do. The self-evidence of this principle again comes from the impossibly
of thinking the opposite, that we ought to do what our understanding of the world
tells us we ought not to do, or that we ought not to do what our understanding of the
world tells us we ought to do. This principle entails the first principle given by Adler,
but it also leads to some important results. First of all, from sociobiology we know
that all organisms strive to maximize their inclusive fitness, so we can immediately
conclude that a morally good life is one that maximizes one’s inclusive fitness. This
doesn’t mean that everyone should go out and start making a lot of babies, of course,
for reproductive restraint is an important feature of animal behavior. What it does
mean is that the biological concept of altruism, which asserts that our behaviors are
directed not only towards our own advantage but also towards the advantage of
other organisms with whom we share genetic information, particularly our closest
genetic relatives, but also including to some extent all human beings and even all
living things, provides a rational basis for some of the duties and responsibilities we
have towards our family, other human beings, and even other living things. Most
people accept as common sense the idea that such duties and responsibilities are to
some extent innate to us as human beings. Another important result comes from the
observation in sociobiology that the average behavior in a stable society is fit
behavior, from which we can conclude that in a stable society the average behavior
of people is moral behavior. This resolves the question of whether man is inherently
good or bad, because we can conclude that on the average men behave morally, but

there are inevitably some men who behave badly because they deviate from average
behavior in a way that is detrimental to their inclusive fitness, although there are
also inevitably some men who are exceptionally good because their behavior leads
to an enhancement of their inclusive fitness over that of most other men. That
average behavior is moral behavior is an important consideration in supporting
democracy as ultimately the best form of government.
The notion that it is morally responsible to maximize one’s inclusive fitness
may appear repugnant to some people because it seems to give a person license to
exploit others to his reproductive advantage, but this view can be seen to be
fallacious from two important considerations. The first consideration is that we
share genes with all other human beings, so the perpetuation of our own particular
genes to the detriment of the population of genes of a large number of other people
can be determined to be morally wrong. The second consideration is that the
inclusive fitness of an individual is a concept that extends infinitely into the future
and does not encompass just the lifetime of an individual. Thus, in judging moral
actions we in principle need to understand the effect of these actions on all of
human life for all eternity. From these considerations we can conclude that, say, a
tyrant who in ruling a society is imminently successful in advancing the interests of
himself and his kinsmen during his lifetime, but who in doing so brings on the
collapse of his society subsequent to his death, is not acting morally, while a great
religious or political leader who sacrifices the advancement of his personal interests
and those of his kinsmen in order to promote ideals that ultimately greatly benefit
his society subsequent to his death is acting morally. The greatest contribution that
the average person can make to his inclusive fitness is usually through the care and
attention that he gives to his family, but a consideration of the genetic relatedness of
all men to each other shows that this notion—that one is morally justified, indeed,
morally compelled, to maximize one’s inclusive fitness—is consistent with our
understanding from common sense that some actions are morally right or wrong if
they help or harm large numbers of people.
The concepts of altruism and inclusive fitness in biology lead readily to the
concept of natural rights and responsibilities between people, rights and responsi-
bilities that result from the kinship between people. Since we are genetically related
to all human beings, and indeed to all life, this leads to the concept that we have
rights and responsibilities towards other human beings simply because they are
human beings, and towards other living things simply because they are living things.
We can readily see that the rights and responsibilities that we tend to accept by
common sense are in accordance with what would be predicted by genetic related-
ness: we assume we have a greater responsibility towards our own family than
towards other people outside our family, a greater responsibility to the citizens of
our own country than to the citizens of other countries (particularly if these other
countries threaten our security), a greater responsibility towards human beings

than to nonhuman animals, a greater responsibility to animals that are closely

related to man than to animals that are more distantly related, and a greater
responsibility to animals than to plants. We may consider the senseless killing of a
dog or cat somehow morally wrong, but we are not likely to think that swatting a fly
or picking a dandelion is particularly bad. The senseless killing of a human being is
considered by most civilized people to be a grave moral wrong.
In addition to the concept of rights and responsibilities that result from
kinship, which may be considered natural rights and responsibilities, we also have
the concept of rights and responsibilities that result from reciprocity, which may be
called conventional rights and responsibilities. We can understand rights and re-
sponsibilities that result from reciprocity as being those that devolve upon people
because of a mutual exchange of goods. Most business transactions are transactions
based primarily upon reciprocity, and are governed by such concepts as fairness and
honesty. Rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity are quite dependent on the
culture in which these exchanges take place. For example, in the United States we
expect that most merchants will display a reasonably fair price for their
merchandise and not ask exorbitant amounts for their goods, but in other countries
people expect a merchant to quote an exaggerated figure for his goods and the buyer
to bargain with the merchant to obtain a fair price. The standards of fairness and
honesty also differ dramatically as one goes from one industry to another and from
one profession to another. For example, engineers usually maintain a high standard
for truthfulness in evaluating the performance of a product, but salesmen and
promoters usually maintain a lower standard in marketing a product. Is the engineer
acting more ethically? In most cases he probably isn’t, because in marketing a
product some exaggeration is normally considered legitimate to attract a buyer’s
interest. If both the engineers and the marketing people are following standards
appropriate for their profession, then one standard cannot necessarily be judged as
more ethical than the other—trying to maintain standards that are inappropriate for
a particular activity may lead to bad choices regardless of whether these standards
are higher or lower than the norm for the activity. The standards employed in
business depend to a large extent on the standards of one’s competitors, and there
are strong pressures on individuals to accept the standards that are the norm for the
people with whom the individual deals. It is difficult for a person to be exceptionally
dishonest or unfair in a company, industry, or profession that maintains high
standards for honesty and fairness, but it is also difficult for a person to be
exceptionally honest and fair in a company, industry, or profession that maintains
low standards for honesty and fairness. Anyone who has negotiated an automobile
purchase with an unscrupulous dealer will understand that one needs to adjust
one’s standards to those with whom one deals (or refuse to deal with them), and
anyone who has had experience with a “do-gooder” who attempts to impose upon a
situation unreasonable standards will understand that such people usually do more

harm than good. The rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity tend to be
defined as ideals by a society and groups within a society, and as a whole they are
more susceptible to cultural influences and change than are the rights and
responsibilities based on kinship.
While rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity are more susceptible to
cultural influences than rights and responsibilities based on kinship, both are
dependent on the culture. Since average behavior in a stable society is moral
behavior, it behooves a person in most cases to behave as close as possible to the
norms of the society to which he belongs, or to join another society if he finds the
norms of his society unsatisfactory. Moral standards are necessarily relative to the
culture in which a person belongs. In modern American society it would be obvious
to most people that it is wrong for a group of men to go on a head-hunting raid, and
we would readily condemn any men who did this, but it would be self-righteous to
condemn a man in the Mundugumor society discussed by Margaret Mead in Sex and
Temperament (1935) for doing the same thing. Yet this raises a problem, for from
common sense we understand that the standards regarding the killing of unrelated
people that are maintained in modern American society are in some sense higher
standards than those maintained by the members of the Mundugumor tribe. As
another example, at one time most civilized societies accepted the idea that slavery
was a justifiable institution, but in modern times few people accept slavery as moral.
Can absolute standards for moral behavior be defended?
In general, it is impossible to define an absolute code of behavior that is never
subject to change. This follows from the principle of symmetry and the impossibility
of ever obtaining an absolute understanding of the nature of reality, which reflects
the existence of free will, as I discussed in Chapter V and later chapters. But it is pos-
sible to judge the standards of particular societies relative to other societies. Just as
inclusive fitness is taken as a measure of the morality of individual action, so too is
inclusive fitness taken as a measure of the morality of a society. This means that we
can judge one society relative to another, and furthermore, that we can understand
that societies evolve to higher forms that are more moral. A society without slavery
that advances the welfare of most of the people in the society is a more moral society
than one that, having a ruling class and a slave class, advances only the interests of a
small portion of the society. Just as we can adopt the biological concepts of altruism
to judge the ethical decisions of individuals, so can we also adopt these concepts to
judge the political decisions of societies. As with ethical decisions, these concepts
appeal to our common sense.
The same principles that are used to judge societies as a whole can be used to
judge groups within a society. A business corporation that advances the interests of
the workers in the corporation as well as those of society in general is a more moral
corporation than one that exploits its workers and harms society. Once we
understand that we can judge the morality of groups within a society, then we have

an additional criterion for judging the morality of the actions of individuals, for it is
better for individuals to become associated with groups that maintain higher
standards of morality than with groups that maintain lower standards. Except under
exceptional circumstances, most people would be better off to work for a prosperous
and well-managed company than a company that was on the brink of bankruptcy
and divided by internal animosities. Since in general people tend to become
associated with people with moral standards comparable to their own, it is
advisable for people to adopt the moral standards of the more moral groups within
their society. A member of the Mundugumor tribe may not have much of a choice of
groups with which to become associated, but in modern society a person has a great
many groups to choose from, and while his behavior in any particular group must be
judged relative to the norms of the group, the norms of the group also need to be
judged relative to the norms of other groups and of the society as a whole, and the
norms of the society relative to the norms of other societies of both the present and
the past.
From the principle of symmetry between metaphysical science and moral
science we can further conclude that not only are some societies more moral than
other societies, but societies tend to evolve to more moral societies. Modern socie-
ties are more moral than older societies. Many who condemn modern society would
like to think otherwise, but any serious examination of older societies reveals many
of the horrors to which people used to be subject. For instance, if we examine the
history of jurisprudence, we find that in ancient Greece and Rome torture was used
routinely to elicit testimony not only in criminal cases, but also in civil cases: Greek
slaves who served as bookkeepers would be tortured to settle disputes between
rival businesses, with a payment going to the winner of the dispute to compensate
for the damage to his slave. Today, even though people are still enslaved and
tortured in parts of the world, it is inconceivable that a civilized person would
openly advocate slavery and torture, or that society will evolve to a stage where
slavery and torture will again be routinely justified by the leaders of the civilized
world. Any serious consideration of the evolution of human society would have to
conclude that as a whole man has made progress, that modern life is better for the
average man that the life of past civilizations. A good discussion of this is given by
C. P. Snow in The Two Cultures and A Second Look (1963); as Snow notes, people
who glorify past civilizations usually think of the life of a healthy member of the
aristocracy, but the life of the common man, and even many aristocrats, was
normally short and brutal. Of course, this doesn’t mean that societies cannot take a
step backwards for either short or extended lengths of time, such as Germany did
after World War I with the rise of Nazism, but rather that on the whole the forces in
society mitigate against immoral behavior and promote moral behavior. While there
will always be occasions when, because of chance occurrences, people who lack

moral virtue will succeed over those that possess moral virtue, on the average those
with moral virtue will succeed over those that lack moral virtue, moral groups of
people will succeed over immoral groups of people, and moral societies will succeed
over immoral societies. As a whole, civilization evolves to higher levels of morality.
Earlier I discussed rights and responsibilities based on kinship and rights and
responsibilities based on reciprocity. It is important to distinguish between the two
groups because the former tends to be of greater and more universal importance
than the latter. Such considerations are important in making business decisions, for
example. Since most business relationships are based on reciprocity, it is perfectly
proper to base one’s actions on self-interest as long as one maintains standards of
fairness and honesty that are generally consistent with the standards of one’s
business, industry, or profession, but in situations in which one’s business activities
have consequences for individuals outside the company or industry within which
one is working, these consequences must be considered in terms of higher ethical
principles. For example, it is perfectly ethical to aggressively attempt to outperform
a rival firm as long as one maintains standards of conduct appropriate to one’s
industry, but it is not ethical to pollute the environment in a way that is harmful to a
large number of individuals. It is an important function of government to prevent
businesses from engaging in practices that gain them competitive advantage at the
expense of society as a whole, just as it is an important function of government to
promote business practices that benefit society as a whole.
The sexual relationship between a man and a woman involves a complex
interplay of rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity and rights and
responsibilities based on kinship. A casual sexual relationship is essentially a rela-
tionship of reciprocity, and the moral right and wrong of such a relationship can
probably best be determined by the ultimate benefit or harm to those engaged in it.
As with all relationships of reciprocity, the concepts of fairness and honesty are
appropriate for judging the morality of the relationship. For a sexual relationship in
which there is a hope for or realization of progeny more complex considerations
become important, for with children the relationship has now assumed many rights
and responsibilities based on kinship. These include the rights and responsibilities
not only of the man and woman involved in the relationship, but also of the potential
or actual children that are a product of that relationship, as well as those of other
relatives of the man and woman. For that matter, they include the rights and
responsibilities of all of the members of the society, for children who are poorly
raised tend to be harmful to the society as a whole. That the rights and
responsibilities involved in marriage go beyond simple reciprocity between the
partners has been acknowledged by all societies through the conventions and laws
that have been developed for the institution of marriage. Most of the discussions of

the ethics of sexual relationships that are popular these days ignore ethical con-
siderations other than those of reciprocity, and thus are intrinsically defective
because they give no consideration to the natural rights and responsibilities that
derive from kinship, rights and responsibilities that are of greater and more
universal importance than those deriving from reciprocity.
At this point I have discussed a number of important concepts of moral
philosophy. We can see from this discussion that the philosophy developed in this
book leads readily to ideas of moral virtue and moral rights and responsibilities that
are consistent with common sense. From common sense we know that we desire to
lead a good life; that in order to do so we need to plan our life and strike a balance
between actions that lead to short-term benefits and actions that lead to long-term
benefits; that we need to take responsibility for our successes or failures even if we
recognize that chance fortune or misfortune can seriously affect our lives for better
or for worse; that what we desire is for the most part what we call happiness, but
that happiness cannot consist solely in pleasure or contentment; that we may desire
things that we do not need and not desire things that we do need; that we need to be
able to distinguish between real goods and apparent goods; and that leading a good
life involves not only personal wants and needs, but also concepts such as fairness
and honesty in dealing with other people, as well as higher considerations of rights
and responsibilities to family members and to people and living things in general
simply because of their humanity and inclusion in the world of living things. All of
these are notions that appeal to our common sense and stir in us our strongest
feelings of moral goodness. It is upon such concepts that a sound moral philosophy
is built.
Chapter XIX
The Concept of Growth

In Chapter II and the last chapter I stated an observation that underlies all of moral
philosophy: we have different ends we want and need, some of these ends are means
to ends of greater importance, and as we grow we become concerned with ends of
increasing importance. This observation follows readily from common sense. In this
chapter I will add insights that will help us better understand the importance of
growth in our lives and how we should use considerations of growth in determining
what we ought or ought not to do.
While the concept of growth follows readily from common sense, it will be
useful to base this discussion on some concrete examples of growth. For this
purpose I wish to discuss the analysis of business careers given by Srully Blotnick in
The Corporate Steeplechase: Predictable Crises in a Business Career (1984). In this
book Blotnick analyzes some of the problems that people encounter in developing a
business career, problems that appear to vary in consistent ways from one period of
a career to another. Blotnick is able to make generalizations about these problems
and recommendations about how to solve them. Blotnick’s book is based on a 25-
year study of the business careers of over five thousand Americans, mostly middle-
class and upper-middle-class college graduates. In addition to the practical impor-
tance of this work, it also illustrates the importance of growth in our lives, for the
crises that people encounter in business are generally the result of a failure to
continue to grow; if people continue to develop and advance in their careers they
can avoid these crises, but if for some reason they are unable to make progress for
an extended period of time, they eventually will be faced with a major crisis that can
seriously retard or even destroy their careers. Although the book discusses the
business careers on which the majority of college-educated workers in America will
depend for a living, the principles that Blotnick develops are applicable to other
types of careers and illustrate the types of problems all of us face in our lives. Since
the feminist movement addresses issues of concern mostly to middle-class and
upper-middle-class, college-educated women, and places a special emphasis on
careers for women, this discussion is also quite relevant to the issues raised by the
women’s movement.
223
The Concept of Growth 224
The work that people do in business typically changes as they progress in their
careers and develop new skills and assume new responsibilities. As would be
expected from common sense, these new skills and responsibilities are typically of
increasing importance, or at least they are if the person is growing in his career.
Since business usually gives greater rewards to those doing work of greater
importance, an increase in status and income usually accompanies an increase in the
importance of a person’s work. If the work a person does as time passes is not
becoming increasingly important, then status and income usually stay about the
same or increase slowly, and if a person does work of increasingly less importance,
then status and income usually decline. The failure to grow in a career is painful to
most individuals and decline is even more painful, although the degree of pain will
vary among individuals. There may be some individuals who are content to grow
little in their careers or even to reduce the importance of their work. Crises develop
for those individuals who fail to grow at the rate they want or need to grow.
In his twenties a person in business typically works on completing assignments
that are delegated to him, and success requires becoming involved with one’s work
and developing the skills necessary for it. However, most workers also learn that a
certain amount of personality development and self-promotion is necessary in order
to distinguish themselves from other people and to accelerate the speed at which
their careers advance. Developing such skills can indeed be helpful to a career, but
becoming overly devoted to promotional skills, or spending too much time in
promotional activities, can seriously undermine a career unless a person has made a
conscious decision to go into such fields as acting for which personality
development is of prime importance in doing the work itself. Despite the importance
of personality and self-promotion to the success of a business career, the
development of the skills necessary to do one’s work is of greater importance, and
an emphasis on developing personality and promoting oneself that is too great, or is
extended for too long, will ultimately undermine a career.
As the above illustrates, a person must become involved with his work and
genuinely interested in doing a good job if he is to succeed. Many people face an
extended transition period between the end of their schooling and the time at which
they finally begin to enjoy their work and become committed to what they are doing.
The length of this transition period varies. For those people who are vocationally
trained in such field as accounting, business administration, or engineering, the
transition may be relatively short (typically from half a year to two years), while for
those who are academically trained in such fields as physics, sociology, and history,
the transition may be much longer (typically three to eight years). Although it may
take an extended period of time to become comfortable and involved with one’s
work, a person eventually must become committed to his work or he will face
serious difficulties later in his career. Those who have the greatest difficulty in their
business careers are those who never accept that what they are doing is intrinsically

important, and instead devote their efforts to “beating the system,” often by exerting
special efforts at personality development and self-promotion in an effort to obtain
the rewards they feel they deserve but have usually not earned. Often a person can
do quite well for many years with this approach, but eventually if a person remains
uninvolved with his work for an extended length of time and consequently fails to
learn the skills necessary to do his job well, his career will develop serious
difficulties. These difficulties may not surface until the person is in his thirties, but
they will eventually surface.
For those who have become involved with their work and committed to what
they are doing, and thus are able to successfully meet the challenges that most
people face in their twenties, there is a critical factor that starts to become
important in their thirties: if their careers are to continue to advance and
opportunities are to expand they must learn to work well with other people. At this
stage one’s success depends less and less on individual efforts and more and more
on the combined efforts of a number of people, and unless a person can successfully
enlist the cooperation of other people success is difficult. People must be able to
make the switch from individual to team effort. However, this conflicts with the need
of people to stand out as individuals and claim credit for their achievements. If
people within a company are quick to claim credit for work that is really a joint
effort of a number of individuals, then others will be forced to do likewise. Those
employees who are overly egotistical and self-centered thus become a disruptive
influence in business regardless of the talents and dedication they may bring to their
jobs. If a person is unable to work successfully with other people, his talent and
dedication will produce few useful results and his ability to grow in his career will
be seriously retarded.
Even if a person has successfully mastered the problems that people typically
face in their twenties and thirties, and has become committed to his work and has
learned to work successfully with other people, he can still face a severe crisis in his
forties. Prior to this time he will have obtained much of the direction for his work
from his superiors in the company, either through direct assignments or through
approval of ideas that the person presents. Moreover, the person has usually had a
number of co-workers doing similar work with whom to discuss work problems.
However, as people advance in their careers they become increasingly specialized,
and by the time a person reaches his forties he is often the only person in his
company doing the type of work he is doing. Thus, a person gradually has fewer and
fewer peers with whom to discuss work problems and to receive criticism and
compliments for work that has been done. Moreover, he also receives less and less
direction from his superiors, for by this time it is expected that a person will be able
to formulate and implement actions within general policy guidelines. Thus, at this

stage of a career a person needs to increasingly rely on his own insights and vision
to determine the actions he needs to take and the direction he is to pursue in his
career. People have problems at this stage if they are unable to develop direction on
their own and to continue to advance their careers even though the feedback from
peers and superiors has diminished and they may feel relatively isolated. If they fail
to find direction, and instead suffer a loss of direction for an extended period of time,
they are likely to face a crisis in their careers.
For those people who do successfully develop a sense of direction in their
forties and on into their early fifties, the remainder of the fifties and the sixties can
be a period of great opportunity, but it can also be a period of ongoing turmoil and
frustration. The main problem for people who have otherwise been successful in
their careers is that they develop an increasing need to pass on what they have
learned to the younger members of their company. Older executives need to become
involved with the future of their companies, the continuation of their work beyond
the period in which they themselves will work, and they can do this only by
befriending their subordinates and sharing their knowledge of the company and the
industry. If they fail to become involved in significant exchanges of information with
younger members of the company, they tend to become stagnant, preoccupied with
themselves, and critical of their subordinates. Despite the importance of developing
satisfactory relationships with younger subordinates, Blotnick and his colleagues
found that surprisingly few executives in this age group were able to do so. Some of
the problem appears to be the attitudes of both junior-level and senior-level
executives towards such relationships and the approaches they take in trying to
establish them. A particular problem is that upper-level executives often distrust
those at lower levels and assume that they are likely to eventually leave the company
with the secrets with which they have been entrusted. But despite their distrust of
younger subordinates, the need for older executives to form relationships with
younger subordinates is so great that most executives do eventually find someone
with whom to form a mentor relationship. The main problem is that they usually
choose the wrong people. By far the best candidates for such relationships are the
competent and often relatively quiet people whose work is highly respected, but
instead of these people, many older executives choose people who appear intense
and driven, or people who have especially attractive personalities. The former type
of person seems to be highly motivated to achieve, but often his intensity is the
result of a profound distrust of co-workers and an obsession with competition, and
such a person tends to disrupt the company; the latter type of person can be skilled
at conversation and be fun to be with, but often he does not take the advice and
friendship of the older executive seriously, and instead of giving the older executive
serious feedback he merely flatters him. When an older executive chooses the wrong
person for a mentor relationship, not only does he fail to pass on to his company or
industry the knowledge that he has obtained during his business career, but he also

denies himself the important learning that he can gain from a good relationship with
a younger subordinate. When he seriously needs competent advice from his
subordinate on a problem he is unlikely to obtain it, often to the grave detriment of
his career. In order to continue to advance in the last stage of their careers,
executives need to choose the right subordinates to befriend, and need to establish
good relationships with them.
This examination of business careers illustrates some of the general principles
of moral philosophy that I have discussed. For example, those young workers who
attempt to “beat the system” have failed to understand rights and responsibilities
based on reciprocity—it is legitimate in business to promote one’s own interests,
but a person needs to be fair and honest in his dealings with other people and with
his company, and to give services that fairly reciprocate what the company gives to
him. A failure to understand this is not only unfair to the company and the people
with whom a person works, but also it ultimately undermines the individual’s
advancement because he fails to develop the skills he needs to advance. As another
example, we see that older executives need to become involved in the future of their
company and industry, which reflects some of the rights and responsibilities that
devolve upon us through kinship—we not only need to promote our own interests
but ultimately we need to become concerned with advancing the greater good of our
society. Again, a failure to understand this or to know how to go about doing this can
be detrimental to a person’s own happiness. We are not designed by our biology to
be self-centered, but rather to be involved with those about us. This means that
those who choose to make their careers in business will have to become involved
with others in their company and industry and become committed to the work they
have undertaken.
From this analysis we see that in order for a person to pursue a business career
successfully, he must be able to correctly assess the goals he pursues and the means
he uses to obtain them, and that a prolonged period without a sense of direction, or
the choosing of improper means to obtain a goal, can lead to serious problems and
an eventual crisis. A person must be able to recognize in himself and other people
the differences between the essential qualities of involvement with one’s work and
the learning of necessary skills, and the superficial qualities of personality and self-
promotion, even if the latter are important. Moreover, it is necessary to manage
one’s career such that one builds upon what one has already attained. Blotnick and
his colleagues examined job changes, and they found that many people seriously
hurt their careers when they change jobs, and they do so because they fail to
understand what their company has given them that has enabled them to achieve as
much as they have achieved, and consequently fail to preserve what they have
attained when they move to a new firm. Another group of people who often fail to

build upon what they have already achieved are the self-employed, who frequently
fail to understand that they must specialize and become highly competent in one
particular area, and instead misuse the flexibility that comes with self-employment
to pursue a too-varied range of activities. Success comes to those who are able to
focus their attention and build upon their past accomplishments so as to obtain an
ever-growing competency in a clearly defined area of specialty. Failure awaits those
who are unable to become involved with their work, to focus their attention in a
specific direction, and to build upon their past accomplishments.
This analysis of business careers gives us some understanding of what is
necessary in order for a person to succeed. Intrinsic to this analysis is the concept of
growth, which we can consider to be essentially the reflection of the directionality of
time in moral philosophy—the concept of growth gives an ordering to the ends we
seek in life that reflects our continuing passage through time. What is applicable to
business careers is applicable to our lives in general. Of course, few people are
fortunate enough to have lives that develop along a path of consistent growth with
few serious problems, and many of the most successful people have faced severe
crises or other misfortunes in their lives. Nevertheless, they have been successful
because they have learned from these crises or misfortunes, and have left their
failures behind to continue to strive for further growth. Those who are unable to
resolve their crises and to cope with misfortune instead languish or decline for much
of their lives. We cannot deny our need to grow without suffering serious
consequences.
I have discussed this study of business careers primarily to illustrate the
importance of growth in our lives and the consequences of failure to grow. Of course,
growth in one’s career may or may not be of special importance to particular
individuals, and many people will be able to make good lives for themselves by
emphasizing activities in the family or community even if at some point in their lives
they don’t continue to grow much in their careers. But it is difficult to imagine that a
person can live a good life if he doesn’t do much of anything and instead spends his
time watching television, drinking, partying, or pursuing other frivolous activities.
Indeed, Blotnick notes that people in their forties who had earned enough money
that they were able to quit their jobs and do whatever they pleased each day rapidly
became bored, and after a while grew restless and irritable. It is necessary for
people to have a strong sense of purpose, which is not achieved by a succession of
unrelated activities, but rather by a concerted effort to achieve a well-defined goal
and to build on past accomplishments. It is only through a sense of purpose that we
grow in our lives, and it is only by growing that we can manage to live a good life.
The people who most seriously damage their careers are those who in their
twenties are unable to develop any serious commitment to their work, and who
often seek to advance their careers through an excessive emphasis on personality
and self-promotion. Unfortunately, they were the largest single category in the

sample that Blotnick and his colleagues studied, and are probably the largest single
category in the labor force as a whole. Their problems appear to begin in school and
college, where they often display great interest in obtaining good grades but little
interest in learning the content of their courses; rather than accepting the necessity
to work in order to earn the grades that they so anxiously desire, they instead
retreat from the problem by denying the importance of grades and becoming
excessively interested in social activities. After leaving school they carry this same
orientation to their work, and instead of becoming involved with their work and
interested in concrete achievements at their jobs, they become excessively and
frantically concerned with money. Work to them is seen solely as a source of status
and money, and they attempt to satisfy their needs for involvement solely through
personal relationships outside of work rather than to some extent through their
work. Ironically, this attempt usually fails, and these people find neither their work
nor their relationships outside of work particularly satisfying. At work they tend to
feel that they are underpaid, for which they compensate by expending less effort
doing their job well and more effort learning how to beat the system, which
inevitably leads to a failure to learn the necessary skills to do their job well. If this
attitude is maintained for an extended period of time, serious problems in one’s
career and life are inevitable.
The consequences of such an attitude towards one’s work are vividly portrayed
by Arthur Miller in his famous play Death of a Salesman (1949), which depicts the
ultimate demise of a salesman who never learned what a salesman does. Willy
Loman, the main character of the play, believes that success comes from having a
pleasing personality and knowing the right people; he never understood that you
have to be able to do something well in order to be successful. Willy is a fake, and in
the end, when he is unable to acknowledge even to himself that he is a failure, he has
no recourse but to kill himself. Willy Loman is perhaps an extreme, but many people
die a slow death because they are never able to accept that they have to work for a
living, that in order to advance they need to accept the bad with the good and put
forth the effort to understand where they are going and what they need to do in
order to get there. Blotnick and his colleagues found that the people who never
found a career with which they became involved, and instead attempted to beat the
system, not only tended to move frequently from one job to the next, but also tended
to have unstable personal lives. Unable to find a satisfactory involvement with their
work, they were also unable to find a satisfactory involvement in their personal lives.
This problem, which unfortunately afflicts a large number of Americans, is of
special interest because it appears to be similar to the problem that Betty Friedan
claims in The Feminine Mystique (1963) to have found among American house-
wives: a failure to commit oneself to a role in life, a failure to form a strong identity,
a failure to mature, and a stunting of personal growth. The women who seemed to

have this problem most severely were those who were unable to take their studies
seriously in school and instead put most of their energy into social activities, which
is exactly what Blotnick and his colleagues found to be true of the people who were
unable to commit themselves to a career. This is essentially a failure to solve the
dilemma that all people face in life: the need to find a meaning and purpose in life.
This is the problem that moral philosophy addresses, and all that I have discussed in
this book is relevant to its solution. A couple of comments are appropriate at this
time.
The first comment is that this is not a problem that confronts only women, but
rather is one that confronts both men and women, and not only at one stage in life,
but continually throughout one’s lifetime. The feminists like to point out the
difficulties that housewives face in finding a direction in their lives after their
children are raised and have left home, but we see that businessmen of a comparable
age (usually in one’s forties) face a similar problem in finding direction in their
business careers. Those who fail to find a direction during their twenties are
perhaps the most seriously afflicted, but it is nevertheless a problem for all people at
all stages in their lives; probably few of us can hope to avoid having periods of time,
maybe even long periods of time, during which we are confused about what we
ought to seek in life. All of us have an inherent need to grow, and if we deny that this
need exists in both men and women, and that it is difficult for both men and women
to satisfy it, then we are denying to either men or women an essential part of their
humanity. Only by recognizing the universality of this need, and the universal
difficulty in satisfying it, can we hope to obtain a satisfactory resolution of the
problems that both men and women face.
The second comment is that a “career” is not of itself a satisfactory answer to
the problem of finding meaning and purpose in life, for as the study of Blotnick and
his colleagues amply documents, people face these problems as much in their
careers as they do in any part of their lives. Friedan is undoubtedly correct in
contending that women have developed problems in part because they have failed to
take their schooling and jobs seriously, but this does not lead us inevitably to
conclude that the solution is for women to become physicians, lawyers, business
executives, and so on. It does mean that if they do become physicians, lawyers,
business executives, and so on they need to become committed to the tasks they
choose to undertake, but it also means that if they become wives and mothers they
need to become committed to that task also. For all the reasons that I have made
clear in this book, the task of being a wife and mother is fundamentally different in
character from the task of being a husband and father, and an absorption and
commitment to a career outside the home will detract more seriously from the
women’s contribution to her family than a comparable absorption and commitment
will detract from the man’s contribution. If a woman believes she can most help

herself, her family, and her society by pursuing a demanding career, then she has the
right, indeed, the moral obligation, to pursue that career, but if she accepts the task
of being a wife and mother, she has the moral obligation to fulfill the responsibilities
that come with being a wife and mother, obligations to her husband, her children,
and to society. If she fails to understand what these responsibilities are, and how
they differ significantly from the responsibilities of being a husband and father, then
the pursuit of a career will be of little help to her in finding a purpose and meaning
in life, and may well significantly disrupt her efforts to find love and build a strong
marriage and family life, which for most people is the source of the deepest
satisfactions in life.
We can see from this discussion of personal growth in business careers, and
from common sense, that we have an inherent need for growth in our lives. From the
principle of symmetry that I developed in Chapter VII we understand that growth is
not only something that we are under a moral obligation to pursue, but is also
something that people are inherently driven to pursue. In sociobiological terms, all
organisms strive to maximize their inclusive fitness, and the need to grow can be
understood as a consequence of this innate biological drive. When I say that a
person has the moral obligation to make certain choices, and that accepting certain
tasks entails certain rights and responsibilities, I am saying that certain actions are
necessary in order to maximize one’s inclusive fitness and thereby live a good life.
The concepts of maximizing inclusive fitness, accepting moral rights and responsi-
bilities, and pursuing happiness all have an essential unity that reflects the essential
unity of our scientific and humanistic thought. The consequence of accepting moral
rights and responsibilities is happiness understood in an ethical sense and biological
fitness understood in a scientific sense. The moral interpretation and the scientific
interpretation are just two different ways of viewing the same reality, and follows
from the equivalence of causal and purposeful thought. Our biology is an
inescapable aspect of human existence, but when understood correctly it
underscores rather than detracts from our humanity.
We could expand on this view of human growth, for growth has been of
concern to many social scientists and other intellectuals and there has been much
work done on this subject. However, I think I have developed the concept sufficiently
so that the reader can appreciate its importance to moral philosophy and to an
understanding of human nature. At this point I wish to discuss some distinctions
between the different activities in which we can choose to engage that follow readily
from common sense. The following is similar to an analysis given by Mortimer J.
Adler in The Time of Our Lives (1970), but I have developed this subject differently.
Adler makes additional distinctions that are useful but which I have chosen not to
discuss.
When we make decisions about what we ought or ought not to do, we must

necessarily make choices between different activities. The hierarchy of goods that I
discussed in Chapter II, which I have elaborated by developing the principle of
symmetry, is one important way of making choices, but the concept of growth adds
an additional element to the decisions we make. Another important concept is the
concept of pleasure—some activities are more enjoyable than other activities. From
common sense we understand that it is better in some sense to engage in pleasant
activities than in unpleasant activities. Another important concept is freedom, and
again from common sense we understand that it is better in some sense to engage in
activities that we freely choose rather than activities that we are forced to choose.
Nevertheless, although we tend to think that it is best to engage in pleasant activities
that we are free to choose, we do know that at times we need to do things that are
unpleasant and that we are compelled to do. Most people dislike examinations in
school, for example, but they nonetheless understand that it is better to take some
examinations than to do other things. How do we balance pleasure and freedom
against other considerations in deciding what we ought or ought not to do? To
clarify how we think when we do this I will define work to be an activity that is
unpleasant and which we feel compelled to do, and play to be an activity that is
pleasant and which we feel we have freely chosen to do. I am now using the term
work in a different sense than I have used it elsewhere, although I am using it in a
way that it is commonly used. By setting play in opposition to work I think the sense
in which I am using both of these terms should be apparent to the reader. We can
imagine that activities fall on a continuum between activities that are purely play
and activities that are purely work.
Now, in addition to characterizing activities on a continuum between play and
work, it is also useful to characterize them on a continuum between activities that
are constructive and those that are destructive, constructive activities being activi-
ties that lead to growth and destructive activities being activities that lead to decline.
In the middle of this continuum are activities that are neither constructive nor
destructive, which may be considered activities that lead to subsistence.
Construction and destruction are related to the concept of power, which I used
earlier to mean the ability to obtain wanted or needed goods. Constructive activities
usually lead to an increase in power, although they also often lead to a beneficial
change in the type of goods that are wanted or needed. Subsistent activities are
activities that maintain a person’s current level of power, while destructive activities
are activities that usually lead to a decrease in power, although they also often lead
to a harmful change in the type of goods that are wanted or needed.
Given these distinctions, we can make a conclusion from common sense: we
ought to spend as much time as possible pursuing activities that have predomi-
nantly the characteristics of play and construction and as little time as possible
pursuing activities that have the characteristics of work and destruction. However,

it often turns out that work leads to greater growth than does play, or to growth of a
different sort, so we must balance the relative advantages of play versus those of
construction, and of different types of construction with each other. These choices
are not necessarily easy choices, and often involve trade-offs between long-term and
short-term goals. Should we put extra effort into studying for an examination or
preparing for a presentation at work, or should we go out dancing? Should we get a
job and earn some more money, or should we use our savings to take a trip to
Europe? Should we watch television or read a book that will help us at our jobs?
Should we take a job with a high salary but with limited potential for future growth,
or should we take a job with a low salary that may offer better opportunities in the
future? Should we watch television or go out for a run? Should we get drunk or stay
sober? Should we get a job immediately after college, or spend a number of years in
graduate or professional school training for work that we expect in the long run will
be more enjoyable and will provide us more opportunities for growth? Should we
devote more time to our jobs or more time to our family life? All of these involve
balancing considerations of play versus work, constructive versus subsistent or
destructive activities, long-term versus short-term goals, and the relative
importance of different goods. It is from such considerations that we make our
choices.
In addition to the distinctions between play and work and between construc-
tive and destructive activities, we have a distinction between activities that lead to
internal growth and activities that lead to external growth. By internal growth I
mean improvement in the self, while by external growth I mean the acquisition of
goods outside of ourselves. Physical exercise and learning are activities that lead
mostly to internal growth, while productive work is an activity that leads mostly to
external growth. Internal growth can be desired for its own sake and as a means for
later external growth. For example, we may want to learn and study because we find
it intrinsically enjoyable, but we may also want to learn and study because we expect
it will help our external growth at a later date, as when we take college courses that
we expect will help us get a job. We need to make choices that balance
considerations of internal and external growth, as well as considerations of work
and play, construction and destruction, and long-term benefits versus short-term
benefits. All of these considerations are ways we have of organizing our thoughts
about what we ought or ought not to do.
At this point we have reached the level of practical decision-making. If we wish
to make decisions about education, work, and play, we may usefully consult such
books as Richard Nelson Bolles’ excellent The Three Boxes of Life and How to Get
Out of Them: An Introduction to Life/Work Planning (1978), which gives many
practical and commonsense ideas on how we ought to plan our life. If we are
concerned with, say, managing people in a corporation, we may wish to consult
books that have been written giving ideas on how we ought to do this. From

common sense we know that such advice can be useful to us in making decisions
about what we ought or ought not to do, and we are in the happy position that the
philosophy developed in this book in no way undermines the validity of such
analyses of practical problems. If we had chosen instead to, say, deny that man has a
determinate human nature, or to assert that moral values are meaningless, then we
would have had to conclude that such advice was worthless. However, we have not
had to do this. Our philosophy has led to a view of moral choices that is both
practical and commonsense.
Chapter XX
The Characteristics of a Good Society

In the last two chapters I have discussed particular questions in ethics, which is that
branch of moral philosophy that deals with the questions of what is necessary in
order for a person to lead a good life. In order for a person to live a good life it is not
only necessary that a person possess moral virtue, but it is also necessary that a
person have a reasonable amount of good fortune, and in particular the good fortune
to live in a good society. When we shift our focus from the good life for an individual
to the good society we encounter the questions of politics, which is that branch of
moral philosophy that deals with the questions of what is necessary in order to have
a good society. In this chapter I will discuss some fundamental principles of politics.
Traditionally, the starting point for politics is an understanding of the proper
role of the state (or government) in society. It is useful to recognize that the state is
an organization, however, and in modern society it is only one among many
important organizations. An organization is a group of people organized for a
specific purpose, and the strength of an organization is that people can, by working
together, achieve more than they can by working separately. Until modern times, the
state and, in some cases, the church were often the only organizations of any size in
a society, but in the last century many organizations, both large and small, and
including such groups as business corporations, universities, hospitals, and
foundations, have become vital parts of our society. Indeed, the progress we have
made in modern times is largely due to the formation and operation of large
organizations. The first step towards understanding politics is acquiring an
understanding of organizations.
As pointed out, an organization is a group of people with a coordinated pur-
pose. The success of an organization depends on the degree to which its goals and
the means to obtain them are clearly and realistically understood. The principles
that apply to thinking about means and ends for an individual are directly applicable
to thinking about means and ends for an organization; for example, means and ends
must be properly ordered, and imperceptible ends need to be translated into
concrete perceptible ends. In addition, there is a need to understand the relationship
of the members of the organization to each other, and the relationship of the goals of
235
The Characteristics of a Good Society 236
the members to the goals of the organization. The better the individuals within an
organization understand the goals of the organization and their role in achieving
them, and the greater the extent to which working to achieve these goals helps them
to attain their personal goals, the more successful the organization is likely to be.
Managing organizations must be chiefly the process of defining goals and making
these clear to the members of the organization, and finding and developing talented
people who can achieve their personal goals by working towards the goals of the
organization.
These principles appear evident from common sense. Let us imagine that two
people decide to organize themselves to carry a canoe down to the lake. If both of
them understand that carrying the canoe down to the lake is the goal of the
organization, both of them want to go canoeing together, and both of them realize
that carrying the canoe down to the lake will enable them achieve this goal, then the
organization is likely to be successful. If one of the people thinks the goal of the
organization is to carry the boat to the boatshed, or doesn’t want to go canoeing, or
thinks that carrying the boat down to the lake won’t help him to go canoeing, then
the organization is not as likely to be successful.
These simple principles can be used to analyze the actions of more complex
organizations. A marriage can be considered an organization, for example, and the
success of a marriage will often depend on whether the partners agree on common
goals and feel that their personal goals will be met in the relationship. Such an
analysis can be expanded for larger organizations. Regardless of the size of the
organization, its success depends on how clearly and realistically its goals and the
means to obtain them are understood, how clearly the individuals in the organi-
zation understand these goals and their role in achieving them, and the extent to
which the personal goals of the individuals in the organization can be achieved by
working towards the goals of the organization.
These principles appear to be evident from common sense, and are consistent
with the moral philosophy developed in this book. Nevertheless, many individuals
and organizations adopt management philosophies that effectively deny these
principles. An example of such a philosophy, one which has become common since
about the Korean war, is management by subordinate commitment, which has also
been called management by exception, management by default, existential manage-
ment, and management by individual commitment. This philosophy has its roots in
existential psychology, and like existentialism, places a great deal of emphasis on the
individual’s need to grow and define his existence. The effect of adopting such a
philosophy is much the same as that of adopting the ideas of the existential and
humanistic psychologists in guiding individual action: an excessive focus on the
individual person with an accompanying neglect of the effect of the environment on

his actions, and an unnecessarily abstruse and confusing way of thinking about
problems. This philosophy effectively denies the possibility and need to clearly and
realistically define the objectives of an organization and to communicate these goals
to the members of the organization.
A good discussion of the effect of adopting such a philosophy on an
organization and the members of the organization is given by Donald W. Cole in
Professional Suicide (1981). Cole’s book is based on a seven-year study of a division
of a large aerospace corporation. The management of this company became
concerned because a large number of bright young engineers and scientists were
committing what Cole terms “professional suicide”: after several years of doing good
work they would suddenly, in a few weeks or months, start acting in ways that
seriously hurt their careers, such as quitting their jobs and taking other jobs far
beneath their abilities, becoming disruptive and doing things for which they would
be fired, retiring on the job, or becoming obsessed with daily crises and thereby
failing to keep up with the rapidly changing technology. Others were found who had
developed classic psychosomatic symptoms, such as headaches, ulcers, and back-
aches, or who appeared to be headed for physical suicide because they were unable
to slow down at work, lose weight, or quit smoking. The people who tended to
commit professional suicide were superior individuals, highly intelligent and, at
least initially, committed to improving the organization. That so many people were
being lost to the organization because of this problem was creating serious
difficulties for the company.
While Cole identified a number of organizational attributes that had created
this problem, the underlying problem was the philosophy of management by subor-
dinate commitment that had been adopted by the organization. As Cole points out,
some implicit assumptions underlying this philosophy, assumptions that are rooted
in existential beliefs, are that people are interested only in their personal goals and
are not interested in the goals of the organization, and that the best way to manage
the organization is not to discuss organizational objectives with employees, but
rather to hire aggressive people and to respond to pressures from them. People are
not expected to desire titles and rewards from the organization, or want to have
responsibility assigned to them, but rather to seek opportunities for challenge and
self-actualization. People are expected to assume responsibility, and are evaluated
on the amount of commitment they show to their work.
This philosophy is distinctly different from a philosophy requiring management
to establish goals and then communicate these clearly to the people doing the work.
Instead, people are expected to be able by themselves to determine what the goals of
the organization should be and what they should do to help achieve them. As Cole
notes, it is simply not possible for an individual in a subordinate position to
understand and change a large organization by his own efforts, so the adoption of a

philosophy of management by subordinate commitment produces severe stress in

the members of the organization. People do not know what their responsibilities
are, and whether or not they are meeting organizational objectives. Rather than
working together, people become excessively competitive and undermine each
other’s work; many learn that it is easier to advance by eliminating the competition
than by doing good work. People are unable to get meaningful performance reviews,
which are difficult to give because of the emphasis on a display of commitment (such
as working long hours) rather than on the achievement of well-defined goals. Unable
to get evaluation and criticism from management, and not receiving titles and other
tangible rewards for performance, people are unable to evaluate their contribution
to the organization. The people who are hurt most by these problems are often the
brightest and most creative members of the organization, since these people have
the strongest needs for achievement.
As Cole notes, the adoption of a management philosophy based on existential
beliefs was motivated by the rapid development of technology following World
War II, which undermined the authority of managers because subordinates came to
know more about the business than their bosses. This parallels the development of
existentialism in France, which followed the breakdown of governmental authority
after World War II. Existentialism asserts that one must deal with existential anxiety,
the recognition that there is essentially no purpose or meaning to life, and denies
that one can plan one’s life rationally; the result in management policy is to assume
that a search for organizational purpose and meaning is futile, and to deny that it is
necessary to develop logical plans for accomplishing goals. The advantage to
management of adopting such a philosophy is that it saves management the time
and energy required to think through objectives and plan the activities of the orga-
nization. The disadvantage is that things do not get done, and creative talent is lost
to professional suicide.
Of course, managers are not necessarily aware that these assumptions are
implicit in the policies of their organizations. Just as many of the ideas of the
humanistic psychologists have been mixed with common sense to create attractive
popular philosophies, so too have existential management ideas been packaged as
attractive, “people-oriented” philosophies for running corporations. The elimination
of job titles and formal hierarchies, and the introduction of informal networks for
organizing work, seem to many to be ways to cope with the complexity of modern
business and technology, to promote creativity, and to make the workplace more
“humane.” Admittedly, business and technology have become more complicated, and
creativity and innovation are more critical to the success of business, but this doesn’t
reduce the need to set objectives and make logical plans to achieve them, it
makes such planning all the more critical. If the new ways of organizing corpora-
tions increase the ambiguity that people face in their work, and fail to provide

people with tangible ways of measuring their contribution to the organization, they
will be destructive of the creative talent they seek to nurture. Philosophies to deal
with complex situations must be firmly rooted in ideas we know from common
sense to be true, and we know from common sense that in order to attain worth-
while goals we need to know what the goals are. As Cole notes, a philosophy of
management by subordinate commitment expects an employee to make a commit-
ment to the organization when the organization has failed to make a commitment to
the employee.
From common sense, then, we will accept that organizations are groups of
people organized for a specific purpose, and that the success of an organization
depends on the degree to which its goals and the means to obtain them are clearly
and realistically understood by the members of the organization, and working to
achieve these goals help the members to attain their personal goals. The questions
of politics then become the questions of what these goals ought to be, what the
relationship of the members of an organization or society to each other ought to be,
and what the relationship of the goals of the organization or society to the goals of
its members ought to be. Particularly prominent are questions concerning the
government of a society, since the various government organizations are especially
powerful and define standards for all members of the society. In a world with large
multinational corporations, however, it is no longer possible to envisage the world
as consisting simply of numerous autonomous states—the interaction of organiza-
tions throughout the world must be considered in answering the questions of
politics.
Although it would appear evident to a man of common sense that organiza-
tions, both large and small, will continue to exist and grow, and that they produce
benefits for people that would be impossible to achieve if they did not exist, modern
political philosophers still debate whether or not there ought to be government—
that is, whether or not men ought to organize their work. Building on the same
philosophical foundations on which existentialism, humanistic psychology, and
other modern philosophies have been built, many philosophers question whether
rational answers to political problems can be obtained. All of these beliefs contradict
our common sense, and are an example of how divorced from reality much of
modern thought has become. In The Common Sense of Politics (1971), Mortimer J.
Adler comments on the decline of moral philosophy in the twentieth century, partic-
ularly in politics, and attempts to rebuild politics as a branch of knowledge with
normative truths—that is, with clear concepts of good and bad and right and wrong
that have the validity of knowledge and are not merely personal opinion. In doing
this he specifically attacks certain modern philosophers, particularly those who
maintain that government is unnecessary or intrinsically evil. Adler defends the
proposition that man is inherently political and that government is necessary in

order to have a good society. He recognizes that governments are prone to injustices,
though, and that politics must address the issue of what forms of governments and
what laws are most just. The ideas that Adler presents in this book are in many ways
consistent with what I will discuss in this chapter, although I think that Adler’s
development of politics suffers from a failure to recognize the central position of the
family in social organization and the greater importance of sexual goods relative to
economic goods. The approach I will take in this chapter in discussing the central
issues of politics will thus be quite different from the approach that Adler takes,
although the similarity of the philosophical foundations upon which both of us build
our ideas means that our ideas complement each other.
Central to politics is an understanding of the proper role of the state (or
government) in society. In other words, what ought the state to do? An answer that
would appear to be reasonable to most people in the United States is: the state ought
to maximize the liberty and equality of all of the citizens of the state. The notions of
liberty and equality are basic to the idea of a good society for most Americans, but
when we examine these ideas closely they present problems. For one thing, we all
recognize that there must be constraints to liberty, for it certainly does not strike us
as morally right for a person to do whatever he pleases if his actions injure other
people. As for equality, it should be apparent that because of the great diversity in
the talents, interests, temperaments, and desires of different people, equality cannot
mean strict sameness for all people. The ideas of liberty and equality need to be
more precisely defined in order for them to be useful in developing political ideas.
Instead of these ideas I will introduce another conception of the proper role of the
state that follows readily from the principles of moral philosophy that I have
developed in this book: the state ought to maximize the ability of all of the citizens of
the state to lead a good life. In other words, the state ought to as much as possible
give to all the citizens of the state equal means to pursue happiness. Of course, it is
impossible for the state to guarantee happiness to all the citizens of the state, for
there will always be some people whose lives will be ruined by a lack of moral virtue
or by personal misfortune beyond the ability of the state to prevent, but to the extent
to which it is possible, the state ought to promote the general welfare of the citizens
of the state by giving all citizens equal opportunities to make good lives for
themselves.
I think that this is a basic principle of politics that most people will accept as
reasonable. From ethics we can state that, in order to live a good life, a person must
both obtain needed economic and sexual goods, and also grow during his life. Since
people differ greatly in talents, interests, temperaments, and desires, as well as in
the ability and drive to grow, the actual goods that a person needs to obtain in his
life and the degree to which he needs to grow will differ from individual to
individual, but the necessity to obtain goods and to grow in order to live a good life
is common to all human beings from their basic nature as human beings. From the

principle of symmetry for moral science and metaphysical science, we know that the
moral obligation for a person to live a good life is equivalent to the necessity of a
person to maximize his inclusive fitness, and we can conclude that the state has the
moral obligation to maximize the inclusive fitness of the citizens of the state. This is
simply another way of saying that the state ought to maximize the ability of all of the
citizens of the state to lead a good life.
In discussing the concept of growth in the last chapter, I introduced the concept
of power, which is the ability to obtain wanted and needed goods. Since as we grow
we become concerned with ends of increasing importance, growth usually requires
an increase in power. In discussing ethics it is perhaps more natural to think of a
person’s development as involving growth since in ethics the emphasis is on the
individual, but in discussing politics it is more natural to think of a person’s
development as involving power since the idea of power is readily used to compare
the abilities of different individuals to obtain wanted and needed goods. Thus,
underlying politics is the concept of power, just as underlying ethics is the concept of
growth. Much of politics is the determination of how power ought to be distributed
among the citizens of the state, and political philosophies differ from each other
primarily in what they assert to be the proper distribution of power.
The question of how power ought to be distributed among the citizens of the
state is impossible to answer categorically, but some general principles can be
established. The issues can be clarified by examining a simplistic answer that is
clearly incorrect: power ought to be distributed evenly among the citizens of the
state. Since people differ in talents, interests, temperaments, and desires, as well as
the ability and drive to grow, it is clearly not possible for every citizen to have an
equal opportunity to make a good life for himself if power is distributed evenly
among the citizens of the state. Moreover, from the principle in biology that all
human beings attempt to maximize their inclusive fitness, we know that an even
distribution of power is not only unjust, but also unobtainable. Some unevenness in
the distribution in power between the citizens of the state is necessary, and the
question is not whether there should be an unevenness in the distribution of power,
but rather what form it should take. By examining two idealistic possibilities for this
distribution we can understand an important problem that inherently exists in
determining the proper distribution of power.
The first of the idealistic possibilities is to imagine that power is distributed in
a society solely on the basis of merit. That is, more power is given to those of greater
ability. The idea of distributing power on the basis of merit governs the organization
of many business corporations. For example, good executives learn that promoting
untalented and unambitious people to supervise people of greater talent and
ambition quickly leads to conflict and loss of morale, and they ideally strive as much
as possible to promote individuals who deserve to be promoted. A business corpo-

ration with a hierarchy based on proven ability to perform is productive and dy-
namic, while a business corporation that for some reason allows a large number of
people of questionable talent and abilities to rise to high positions is headed for
serious problems. Moreover, the natural drives of people tend to produce a hierarchy
based on merit because talented and ambitious people who are passed over for
promotion tend to leave the corporation. By analogy, we can see that a society that
distributes power to a large extent on the basis of merit will tend to be productive
and dynamic, while a society that gives power to a large number of people of
questionable talents and abilities is headed for serious problems. Most Americans
accept the idea that people should be rewarded for their accomplishments and that
it is desirable for power to be given preferentially to those who have earned that
power through achievement. As an ideal we can imagine a society in which power is
distributed solely on the basis of merit.
In contrast to this ideal, we can imagine as an ideal a society in which power is
distributed solely on the basis of kinship. That is, power is passed through families,
so a person is given power comparable to that possessed by the rest of his family. An
example of a society that has a strong distribution of power on the basis of family is
the traditional Indian society in southern Asia, in which a person is born into a
particular caste and must pursue an occupation appropriate to his caste. In the
traditional Indian society a person could change castes only through marriage to a
person of different caste, normally a woman marrying a man of higher caste. In
Western civilization we have had societies with power distributed by family,
societies with hereditary monarchies and classes of nobles, peasants, and slaves. In
such societies it is difficult for a person to obtain more power than is traditionally
given to the members of the class into which he is born.
In these two ideals we can anticipate certain advantages and disadvantages.
The advantage of the first ideal—power distributed by merit—is that the people
with the greatest abilities theoretically obtain the greatest amount of power, and the
society as a whole will prosper more than if power is given to people of lesser ability.
We can imagine that a business corporation that gives power mostly to people of
great ability would be better able to advance than a corporation that gives power to
people of lesser ability. The disadvantage of such a society is that there tends to be a
great deal of conflict as people struggle to obtain the power they believe their
abilities deserve. The advantages and disadvantages of the second ideal—power
distributed by family—are the reverse: the disadvantage is that people of lesser
abilities obtain power, but the advantage is that the bond between kinsmen in such
societies tends to stabilize the society. One of the important reasons that monarchies
have been good societies in the past is because a hereditary succession of power has
helped to prevent competing factions from fighting for power. In such societies
people tend to understand and accept their position in life more readily than in
societies in which people are expected to obtain power based on merit, and thus

distributing power on the basis of family is a stabilizing influence that balances the
gains of distributing power on the basis of merit. Indeed, the advancement of
modern societies can be viewed as resulting from an increased shift in the
distribution of power from being based on the family to being based on merit, which
has been possible because advances in laws and moral standards have made it
increasingly possible for people to trust individuals with whom they do not share a
close kinship; the stabilization of society gained by distributing power on the basis
of family then becomes less important than the gains attained by having people with
greater abilities possessing power.
We can understand that not only are there advantages and disadvantages to
each of these two ideals, but also that neither of them is practically achievable. That
the first ideal—power distributed solely on merit—is impossible follows from the
point I made in Chapter XV: the differences in power between the members of a
family tend to be far less than the differences in power between members of
different families. To achieve the ideal of power distributed solely on the basis of
merit would require that the state separate the members of a family. Since this is
unlikely to be either desirable or practical, there will always be some distribution of
power on the basis of family. People who are able to establish secure marriages will
promote not only their own welfare but also the welfare of their children, so the
members of good homes will have a decided advantage over the members of
troubled homes. Families not only tend to share economic goods, but they also tend
to possess similar moral values, so the members of families with high moral
standards will have an advantage over the members of families with low moral
standards. For these reasons there will inevitably be some distribution of power on
the basis of family unless the state separates families, and since a secure family is so
important to a person’s development, it is difficult to imagine that the state can
maximize the ability of all of the citizens of the state to lead a good life if it separates
families, or that people would readily submit to having their families separated.
Similarly, we can imagine that the second ideal—power distributed solely on the
basis of family—is also impossible, though it probably has and can be approximated
more closely than the first ideal. We know from history that the ascension of an
incompetent monarch has been likely to lead to chaos and civil war in a society, and
also that with the advancement of civilization it has become increasingly difficult for
societies to maintain a strict segregation by social classes. Monarchies have almost
ceased to exist, and as education and technology has advanced, the lower classes
have increasingly fought for greater power. As C. P. Snow notes in The Two Cultures
(1963), technology is relatively easy to learn, and as the poorer peoples of the world
learn what is necessary for them to advance, they will advance; despite the literary
intellectual’s distaste for the world of science, industry, and commerce, industriali-
zation is the only hope for the poor of the world, and since it is possible for the poor

to advance by industrialization, that is what they will do. The need for people to
grow, and the inevitable differences in talents, abilities, interests, and desires among
people, means that some balance between power distributed by merit and power
distributed by family is inevitable in a society.
These two ideals characterize the fundamental struggle that occurs in society,
the struggle of those born into the lower classes to attain a position in society com-
mensurate with their talents, abilities, temperaments, and desires. Many discussions
of politics have misinterpreted this struggle and have instead viewed the struggle in
society as a struggle between other types of ideals, such as a struggle between the
ideal of capitalism and the ideal of socialism. The capitalist ideal is a mixture of the
ideals of a distribution of power by merit and a distribution of power by family,
while the socialist ideal is the simplistic notion that power ought to be distributed
equally to all people. Since a just society would have to be some compromise
between the two ideals of distribution of power by merit and distribution of power
by family, we can see that capitalism can potentially provide a just society, but that
socialism considered to be the ideal of an equal distribution of power to all people is
both inherently unjust and practically unattainable. Current political practice in the
United States is based on capitalism, with the government ideally acting to curb
misuses of power and to promote opportunities for those from disadvantaged
families.
Aside from the central question of the proper distribution of power, we also
have many questions in politics that involve the same types of considerations we
have in ethics. For example, we need in politics as well as in ethics to balance short-
term goals against long-term goals. In many important ways, the questions of
politics mirror the questions of ethics.
Of particular importance in politics are the concepts of rights and responsi-
bilities based on kinship, and rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity. The
former involve the notion of natural rights, such as the right to life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness, while the latter involve the notion of conventional rights, rights
granted by the state to facilitate the welfare of all of the citizens of the state. Just as it
is important to understand whether ethical actions follow from rights and
responsibilities based on kinship, or rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity,
so too is it important to understand whether political actions follow from rights and
responsibilities based on kinship, or rights and responsibilities based on reciprocity.
Of particular concern to the state is the integrity of the family. Since sexual
goods are of greater importance than economic goods, it is of greater importance for
the state to enable all its citizens to obtain wanted or needed sexual goods than it is
for the state to enable all its citizens to obtain wanted or needed economic goods. Of
course, it is desirable for the state to assure that all people have at least the indis-

pensable minimum of economic goods necessary to survive, but beyond that it is

more important for the state to assist people in attaining necessary sexual goods
than it is to assist people in attaining additional economic goods. In other words, it is
more important to help people develop stable families than it is to simply give
economic assistance; a stable and secure family is of much greater importance to the
welfare of a citizen than are economic goods beyond an indispensable minimum. To
do this, it must be recognized that the rights and responsibilities assumed by both
partners in a marriage are based not only on reciprocity between the partners, but
also on kinship through the potential or actual production of children.
At this point I have developed some key ideas that pertain to politics. Just as in
the last chapter on ethics, we are left at the level of practical decision-making. Most
of the fundamental issues in politics are developed in ethics; politics deals more
with the specific compromises that are necessary in order for the state to promote
the welfare of all of its citizens. For example, the issue of whether the state ought to
support the efforts of women to advance to high levels in their careers requires a
compromise between the needs of some women to grow, and the needs of others in
society to obtain and maintain successful love relationships. Such compromises are
not easy to make, but an understanding of the true nature of the issues can improve
our ability to make these compromises successfully. As much as possible, the state
ought to promote the welfare of its citizens, and of particular importance is the
welfare and integrity of the family. As in all of moral philosophy, we ultimately return
to the central position of love, marriage, and family in making the choices that we
must make.
References
Adler, Mortimer J. The Common Sense of Politics. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston,
1971.
Adler, Mortimer J. The Conditions of Philosophy: Its Checkered Past, Its Present Disorder,
and Its Future Promise. New York: Atheneum, 1965.
Adler, Mortimer J. The Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes. New York: Holt,
Rinehart and Winston, 1967.
Adler, Mortimer J. How to Think About God: A Guide for the 20th-Century Pagan. New
York: Macmillan, 1980.
Adler, Mortimer J. Ten Philosophical Mistakes. New York: Macmillan, 1985.
Adler, Mortimer J. The Time of Our Lives: The Ethics of Common Sense. New York: Holt,
Rinehart and Winston, 1970.
Alexander, Richard D. "Evolution, Culture, and Human Behavior: Some General
Considerations." In Natural Selection and Social Behavior: Recent Research and New Theory,
ed. Richard D. Alexander and Donald W. Tinkle, pp. 509–520. New York: Chiron Press, 1981.
Blotnick, Srully. Ambitious Men: Their Drives, Dreams, and Delusions. New York: Viking,
1987.
Blotnick, Srully. The Corporate Steeplechase: Predictable Crises in a Business Career.
New York: Facts on File, 1984.
Blotnick, Srully. Otherwise Engaged: The Private Lives of Successful Career Women. New
York: Facts on File, 1985.
Bolles, Richard Nelson. The Three Boxes of Life and How to Get Out of Them: An
Introduction to Life/Work Planning. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 1978.
Bonner, John Tyler. The Evolution of Culture in Animals. Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1980.
Bouchier, David. The Feminist Challenge: The Movement for Women's Liberation in
Britain and the USA. New York: Shocken Books, 1983.
Brillouin, Leon. Science and Information Theory. New York: Academic Press, 1956.
[Second Edition: 1962.]
Buck, Pearl S. Of Men and Women. New York: Day, 1941.
246
References 247
Cole, Donald W. Professional Suicide: A Survival Kit for You and Your Job. New York:
McGraw-Hill, 1981.
Daly, Martin, and Margo Wilson. Sex, Evolution, and Behavior. 2nd ed. Boston: Grant,
1983.
Daly, Martin, and Margo Wilson. "Child Abuse and Other Risks of Not Living with Both
Parents." Ethology and Sociobiology 6 (1985): 197–210.
Davidson, Nicholas. The Failure of Feminism. Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus. 1988.
Deckard, Barbara Sinclair. The Women's Movement: Political, Socioeconomic, and
Psychological Issues, 3rd ed. New York: Harper & Row, 1983.
Decter, Midge. The New Chastity and Other Arguments Against Women's Liberation.
New York: Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, 1972.
Douglas-Hamilton, Iain and Oria. Among the Elephants. New York: Viking, 1975.
Frank, Philipp. Philosophy of Science: The Link Between Science and Philosophy.
Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1957.
Freeman, Derek. Margaret Mead and Samoa: The Making and Unmaking of an Anthro-
pological Myth. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983.
Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique. New York: Norton, 1963.
Friedan, Betty. The Second Stage. New York: Summit Books, 1981. [Revised Edition:
1986.]
Gilder, George F. Men and Marriage. Gretna, La.: Pelican, 1986.
Gilder, George F. Naked Nomads: Unmarried Men in America. New York: Quadrangle,
1974.
Gilder, George F. Sexual Suicide. New York: Quadrangle, 1973.
Goldberg, Steven. The Inevitability of Patriarchy. New York: Morrow, 1973.
Guttentag, Marcia, and Paul F. Secord. Too Many Women: The Sex Ratio Question.
Beverly Hills: Sage, 1983.
Jones, W. T. The Sciences and the Humanities: Conflict and Reconciliation. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1965.
Kahneman, Daniel, Paul Slovic, and Amos Tversky, Eds. Judgement under Uncertainty:
Heuristics and Biases. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982.
Kinsey, Alfred C., Wardell B. Pomeroy, and Clyde E. Martin. Sexual Behavior in the
Human Male. Philadelphia: Saunders, 1948.
Kinsey, Alfred C., Wardell B. Pomeroy, Clyde E. Martin, and Paul H. Gebhard. Sexual
Behavior in the Human Female. Philadelphia: Saunders, 1953.
Kuhn, Thomas S. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. 2nd ed. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1970. [First Edition: Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962.]
McKean, Kevin. "Decisions, Decisions." Discover 6:6 (June, 1985) 22–31.
Maslow, Abraham H. Motivation and Personality. 2nd Ed. New York: Harper & Row,
1970.

References 248
Mead, Margaret. "A Reply to a Review of Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive
Societies." American Anthropologist 39 (1937): 558–561.
Mead, Margaret. Coming of Age in Samoa: A Psychological Study of Primitive Youth for
Western Civilization. New York: Morrow, 1928.
Mead, Margaret. Male and Female: A Study of the Sexes in a Changing World. New York:
Morrow, 1949.
Mead, Margaret. Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies. New York: Morrow,
1935.
Mill, John Stuart. The Subjection of Women. 1869. In The Great Ideas Today 1966, ed.
Robert M. Hutchins and Mortimer J. Adler, pp. 461–528. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica,
1966.
Miller, Arthur. Death of a Salesman: Certain Private Conversations in Two Acts and a
Requiem. New York: Viking, 1949.
Monod, Jacques. Chance and Necessity: An Essay on the Natural Philosophy of Modern
Biology. Trans. Austryn Wainhouse. New York: Knopf, 1971. [French edition: Jacques Monod,
Le Hasard et la Necessite. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1970.]
Murdock, G. P. "Anthropology's Mythology." Proc. Roy. Anthrop. Inst. Great Britain and
Ireland for 1971 (1972): 17–24. Cited in Richard D. Alexander, "Evolution, Culture, and
Human Behavior: Some General Considerations." In Natural Selection and Social Behavior:
Recent Research and New Theory, ed. Richard D. Alexander and Donald W. Tinkle, pp. 509–
520. New York: Chiron Press, 1981.
Remoff, Heather Trexler. Sexual Choice: A Woman's Decision, Why and How Women
Choose the Men They Do As Sexual Partners. New York: Dutton/Lewis, 1984.
Russell, Bertrand. The Conquest of Happiness. New York: Liveright, 1930.
Snow, C. P. The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1959.
Snow, C. P. The Two Cultures and A Second Look: An Expanded Version of The Two
Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1963.
Thurnwald, Richard C. Review of Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies by
Margaret Mead. American Anthropologist 38 (1936): 663-667.
U. S. Bureau of the Census. Statistical Abstract of the United States: 1986, 106th ed.
Washington, D.C., 1985.
White, Leslie A. "The Concept of Culture." American Anthropologist 61 (1959): 227–251.
Wilson, Edward O. On Human Nature. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978.
Wilson, Edward O. Sociobiology: The New Synthesis. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press,
1975.
Wilson, Margo, and Martin Daly. "Competitiveness, Risk Taking, and Violence: The
Young Male Syndrome." Ethology and Sociobiology 6 (1985): 59–73.
Index
A priori factors, 45 causal and purposeful thought in analyzing,
Addo Park elephants, 97–98 139–140; biological and cultural causes of,
Adler, Mortimer J., viii, 1–9, 70–71, 72–73, 79; 143–147; differences between men and
objects of thought, 32–33, 44–46, 75–77, 78; women in, 151, 155–159, 173–207. See also
cognitive powers, 75–76; moral philosophy, 82, Sociobiology
213–216, 239–240; freedom of will, 83, 125; Behaviorism, 20–21, 23, 47
conceptual powers, 97, 100–102, 103; radical Berkeley, George, 93
difference in kind, 88–91, 93–94; God, 111– Biological determinism, 162–164, 168, 173
112. See also Common Sense of Politics, The; Biology, 30–31, 85–87, 102, 128–135. See also
Conditions of Philosophy, The; Difference of Sociobiology
Man and the Difference It Makes, The; How to Blotnick, Srully, 194–195, 196–197, 223–229
Think About God; Ten Philosophical Mistakes; Boas, Franz, 162
Time of Our Lives, The Body, 30–33, 46, 74–75, 76. See also Material
Alexander, Richard D., 164 entities
Altruism, 149, 216–218, 219 Bolles, Richard Nelson, 233
Ambitious Men (Srully Blotnick), 194, 196–197 Boltzmann, Ludwig, 126
Among the Elephants (Iain and Oria Douglas– Bonner, John Tyler, 96–99
Hamilton), 97–98 Borsh, Hermann, 126
Analytic and linguistic philosophy: basic Brain, 94, 100–103, 106–107
assumptions of, 22, 28, 31; logic, mathematics, Brillouin, Léon, 102–103, 106–107
and scientific methodology in, 47–56, 59–62, Buck, Pearl S., 188
83–84, 120; material and immaterial in, 67, Business careers, 223–229
106
Ancient thought, 32–33, 42–44, 114, 129, 213 Career-woman role: as discussed by Betty
Animals: conceptual ability, 93–99. See also Friedan in The Feminine Mystique, 24–25, 26–
Difference in kind; Evolution; Living objects; 27; in feminist ideology, 174–175, 176, 183;
Sociobiology effects of promoting, 181–182, 184, 192–195
Animist philosophies, 86–88 Causal laws, 120–121
"Anthropology's Mythology" (George P. Causal thought, 1, 3, 7, 119; split between, and
Murdock), 164 purposeful thought, 27–29, 30–31, 41–42;
Apparent goods, 19, 215–216 equivalence of, and purposeful thought, 60–62,
Aquinas, Thomas, 32–33, 42–43, 45, 213 74–87, 100, 125, 128, 131–134, 139–140, 231
Aristotle, 19, 32–33, 42–43, 136, 213 Causality, 116–119, 133–134
Artificial objects, 130–131 Cause. See Causal laws; Causal thought; Causality;
Axiomatic method, 50 Proximate cause; Ultimate Cause
Chance, 114, 119–127, 128, 136, 138, 163; and
Bakery owner story, 35–37 freedom of will, 83, 116, 124–125
Behavior: evolution of, 82, 95–99, 139–142; Chance and Necessity (Jacques Monod), 30–31,
249
Index 250
85–88, 97, 102, 130–135 Demographic revolution, 199–200

Child abuse, 154–155, 197 Deoxyribonucleic acid, 134–135; author's
"Child Abuse and Other Risks of Not Living with research on, 37–40, 41, 54
Both Parents" (Martin Daly and Margo Wilson), Descartes, René, 31
154–155 Descent of Man (Charles Darwin), 137
Choices, 12–19, 28–29, 103, 208–222, 231–234. Descriptive statements, 42, 79. See also Causal
See also Economic goods; Ends; Sexual goods thought
Circular argument, 8–9, 49, 59 Desegregation of the sexes, 184–207
Clausius, Rudolf, 125 Destructive activities, 232–233
Cognitive powers, 9, 76, 93–94, 102–103, 105 Determinism, 28, 55, 64, 115, 124–125. See also
Cole, Donald W., 237–239 Biological determinism; Cultural determinism
Coming of Age in Samoa (Margaret Mead), 161– Deviants, 168, 176
165, 167 Difference in degree, 88–89
Common experience, 4–6, 7–8, 21–22, 64–65, 66– Difference in kind, 87–100, 103–106, 109–110,
67, 69, 73, 119. See also Common sense; 112, 113, 129–130, 163. See also Continuity,
Commonsense thought principle of
Common sense, 1–3, 7–8, 10, 34–35, 75. See also Difference of Man and the Difference It Makes,
Common experience; Commonsense thought The (Mortimer J. Adler), 88–91, 93–94, 97
Common Sense of Politics, The (Mortimer J. Discontinuity, principle of. See Continuity,
Adler), 239–240 principle of
Commonsense thought, 34–37, 40–46, 61, 74–84. Discrimination, 175, 176–182
See also Common experience; Common sense DNA. See Deoxyribonucleic acid
Competition, 156–158 Dominance, 157, 186–187, 195–196, 198
"Competitiveness, Risk Taking, and Violence: The Douglas-Hamilton, Iain and Oria, 97–98
Young Male Syndrome" (Martin Daly and Dualism, 30–33, 46, 47, 74–75
Margo Wilson), 157–158 Dualistic metaphysics. See Dualism
"Concept of Culture, The" (Leslie A. White), 95–96 Dynamic, 56, 60, 92–93, 94, 103
Conditions of philosophy, 1, 6–7
Conditions of Philosophy, The (Mortimer J. Adler), Economic choices, 14. See also Economic goods
1, 3–9, 32–33 Economic goods, 13, 14–18, 82, 198–199, 240–
Conquest of Happiness, The (Bertrand Russell), 29 241, 244–245
Constructive activities, 232–233 Economic values, 14. See also Economic goods
Constructs: empirical, 107–108, 109; theoretical, Einstein, Albert, 41, 64–65
107–108, 109, 110, 118–119 Elephants, 97–98
Continental philosophy, 22–23, 28–29, 30, 31–32, Empirical constructs, 107–108, 109
47, 53, 74–75. See also Existentialism Empirocriticism. See Analytic and linguistic
Continuity, principle of, viii–ix, 85–106, 109–112, philosophy
128–130, 131, 163 Ends: ordering of means and, 10–22, 208, 235–
Conventional rights and responsibilities, 218–219 236; imperceptible, 13, 15, 16–19, 82–83, 112–
Copernican astronomical system, 43–44 113, 215; perceptible, 13–19, 82–83, 112–113,
Copernicus, 31, 43–44 215–216; ultimate, 15–19, 82–83, 112–113,
Corporate Steeplechase, The (Srully Blotnick), 213–215; simultaneity of thinking about means
223–229 and, 36–37, 40–41, 61, 78, 82–83. See also
Cultural determinism, 162–164, 167, 171, 173 Economic goods; Growth; Sexual goods
Culture, 95–98, 160–173 Entropy, 125–126. See also Second law of
thermodynamics
Daly, Martin, 148, 154–155, 157–158 Epistemology, 5, 33–46, 61
Darwin, Charles, 137 Equal marriage, 195–197
Death of a Salesman (Arthur Miller), 229 Equivalence of causal and purposeful thought,
Decter, Midge, 203, 204 60–62, 74–87, 100, 125, 128, 131–134, 139–
Deductive logic, 48 140, 231
Degree, difference in. See Difference in degree Essay Concerning Human Understanding (John

Index 251
Locke), 44–45 internal, 233; external, 233. See also Ends

Ethic of knowledge, 86–87 Guttentag, Marcia, 204–207
Ethics, 4, 86, 208–234, 240–241. See also First–
order philosophy; Moral philosophy Happiness, 213–215, 222, 231, 240
Evolution, 95–99, 104, 136–143. See also Heisenberg uncertainty principle, 72–73, 115–
Sociobiology 116
Evolution of Culture in Animals, The (John Tyler Hierarchy of needs, 20, 21–23, 25, 26–27
Bonner), 96–99 History, 3–6, 63. See also Science, history of
Existence, 3, 107–112 Hobbes, Thomas, 31, 67, 90
"Existence precedes essence", 9 Holism, 22, 118; fallacy of, 71
Existential management, 236–239 How the world works. See Causal thought
Existentialism, 9, 22–23, 27, 28–29, 236–239. See How to Think About God (Mortimer J. Adler),
also Continental philosophy 111–112
Expansion of the universe, 126–127, 138, 152 Human nature. See Behavior
External growth, 233 Humanistic psychology, 20–23, 27
Humanistic thought, 27–33, 74–75, 79, 87–88,
Fallacy: logical, 49–52; of reductionism, 70–71; of 100
holism, 71 Hume, David, 93
Family, ix, 151–152, 154–155
Feminine Mystique, The (Betty Friedan), 24–25, Idea, 44–46, 63, 74–84, 86, 93–94, 95
26–27, 201, 203, 229–231 Idealism, 74–75
Feminism, 24–27, 170, 173–207 Immaterial (spiritual) entities, viii, 3, 67, 76, 82,
First principle of moral philosophy, 82, 215–217 106–113. See also God; Intellect; Mind; Will
First-order philosophy, 3–6, 7, 61–67, 69–73, 79– Imperceptible ends, 13, 15, 16–19, 82–83, 112–
80, 118–119. See also Metaphysics; Moral 113, 215
philosophy Inclusive fitness, 149, 216–218, 219, 240–241.
Fitness, 140, 148. See also Inclusive fitness See also Fitness
Frank, Philipp, 56, 59, 63–64, 72, 115–117, 120– Incompleteness theorem, 50–52
121, 125 Inductive logic, 48
Freedom, 201, 232; women's response to, 203 Industrial melanism, 148–149
Freedom of will, 3, 67, 83–84, 103, 163, 210; and Inevitability of Patriarchy, The (Steven Goldberg),
chance, 83, 116, 124–125 189
Freeman, Derek, 161–165, 167 Intellect, 13, 67, 76, 93–94, 100–103, 104–105,
Friedan, Betty, 24–25, 26–27, 201, 202, 203, 229– 108–109. See also Immaterial entities; Mind;
231 Sense
Internal growth, 233
Galileo, 31, 44 Invariance, 131–136
Genetic method, 50 Invariant reproduction, 131–136
Genotype, 136, 137–139, 140, 148, 149, 150, 153–
154 Jones, W. T., 32
Gilder, George, 25–26, 170, 190, 191, 206–207 Judgement under Uncertainty (Daniel Kahneman,
Goals, 11–12. See also Ends Paul Slovic, and Amos Tversky), 121–122
God, viii, 17, 18, 43, 67, 109–112, 209–210, 215.
See also Immaterial entities Kahneman, Daniel, 121–122
Gödel, Kurt, 50–52 Kant, Immanuel, 31–32, 45, 75
Goldberg, Steven, 189 Kepler, Johannes, 44
Goods, 13–18, 82, 198–199, 240–241, 244–245. Kind, difference in. See Difference in kind
See also Ends Kinsey, Alfred C., 158
Graduate research, author's, 37–40, 41, 54 Kuhn, Thomas S., 40–41, 56–61, 65–66
Groups, socially isolatable, 178–181, 184, 198,
207 Legal discrimination, 177–178
Growth, 11–12, 24–25, 26–27, 223–234, 241; Liar paradox, 49–52

Index 252
Liberation, sexual, 190–191, 204 Monod, Jacques, 30–31, 85–88, 97, 102, 130–135
Life, 128–147 Moral choices. See Choices
Life planning, 210–215, 233 Moral philosophy, 3–5, 10–19, 61–64, 74–84,
Linguistic philosophy. See Analytic and linguistic 208–210. See also First–order philosophy
philosophy Moral science, 80–84. See also Symmetry,
Living objects, 130–133 principle of
Locke, John, 44–45 Moral theology, 209–210
Logic, 48–56. See also Second–order philosophy Moral values. See Choices
Logical empiricism. See Analytic and linguistic Moral virtue, 208, 210–211, 220–221, 222, 235,
philosophy 240
Logical fallacy, 49–52 Motivation and Personality (Abraham H.
Logical positivism. See Analytic and linguistic Maslow), 21
philosophy Murdock, George P., 164

Macroscopic, 69 Naked Nomads (George Gilder), 190
Male and Female (Margaret Mead), 161, 165–166, Natural objects, 130–131
168–170, 212 Natural rights and responsibilities, 217–218
Male competition, 156–158 Natural Selection and Social Behavior (Richard D.
Male dominance, 157, 186–187, 195–196, 198 Alexander), 164
Margaret Mead and Samoa (Derek Freeman), Natural theology, 111
161–165, 167 Nature versus nurture, 143–147, 162–163. See
Marriage, equal, 195–197 also Biological determinism; Cultural
Marxism, 9, 66, 86 determinism
Maslow, Abraham H., 20–23, 25, 26–27 Needs, 215–216. See also Real goods
Material entities, 3, 82–83, 106–109 New Chastity and Other Arguments Against
Materialism, viii–ix, 67, 73, 74–75, 100–103, 105 Women's Liberation, The (Midge Decter), 203,
Mathematics, 50–54, 63 204
Maxwell's demon, viii, 102–103, 106–107, 125 Newton, Isaac, 31; laws of, 44, 59, 64–65, 67, 119,
Mead, Margaret, 161–170, 175–176, 212 127
Means: ordering of ends and, 10–22, 208, 235– Nonliving objects, 130–133
236; simultaneity of thinking about ends and, Normative judgements, 42, 79. See also Causal
36–37, 40–41, 61, 78, 82–83 thought
Mechanics: quantum, 64, 71–73, 90 n, 114–116, Nucleic acids, 134–135; author's research on, 37–
121, 125–127, 138, 152; statistical, 122–124, 40, 41, 54
125–127, 138, 152; classical, 125–127; ancient Nurture versus nature, 143–147, 162–163. See
and medieval, 129 also Biological determinism; Cultural
Medieval thought, 32–33, 42–44, 129, 213 determinism
Megascopic, 69
Melanism, industrial, 148–149 Objects: of thought, 32–33, 44–46, 75–77; living
Men and Marriage (George Gilder), 25–26, 170, and nonliving, 130–133; natural and artificial,
191, 206–207 130–131
Metaphysical science, 80–84. See also Symmetry, Of Men and Women (Pearl S. Buck), 188
principle of Office romance, 194–195
Metaphysics, 3–5, 7, 30, 32, 46, 61–84. See also On Human Nature (Edward O. Wilson), 68
Dualism; First–order philosophy Ontogeny, 140–143
Microscopic, 69 Ordinary man, 34–35
Miller, Arthur, 229 Organization theory, 235–239
Mind, 55–56, 67, 93–94, 103, 106–109; split Origin of the Species (Charles Darwin), 137
between body and, 30–33, 46, 74–75, 76. See Otherwise Engaged (Srully Blotnick), 194–195
also Immaterial entities; Intellect
Modern philosophical thought, 44–46 Paradigm, 57–61, 64–66, 96–97, 142, 163
Monism, 74–75 Paradoxes, 49–52

Index 253
Perceptible ends, 13–19, 82–83, 112–113, 215– Reductionism, 117–118; fallacy of, 70–71
216 Relativity, 41, 64–65, 114–115, 116
Phenomenology. See Continental philosophy Religion, 111–113, 209–210, 215
Phenotype, 136, 137–139, 148 Remoff, Heather Trexler, 156–157
Philosophy: nature of, 1–9; split in modern, 27– Reproduction, sexual, 137–139, 150
32. See also specific topics Responsibilities, 217–219
Philosophy of Science (Philipp Frank), 56, 59, 63– Revolutions in science. See Structure of Scientific
64, 72, 115–117, 120–121, 125 Revolutions, The (Thomas S. Kuhn)
Phylogeny, 140–143, 149 Rights, 217–219
Planning, life, 210–215 Romance, office, 194–195
Play, 232–233 Russell's paradox, 51–52
Politics, 4, 210, 235–245. See also First-order Russell, Bertrand, 29, 50–52
philosophy; Moral philosophy
Polyandry, 152 Sacred theology, 111
Polygyny, 152 Samoa. See Coming of Age in Samoa (Margaret
Positivism. See Analytic and linguistic philosophy Mead); Margaret Mead and Samoa (Derek
Postulate of objectivity, 86–87 Freeman)
Power, 180–181, 184, 194, 198–199, 207, 232, Science: principle behind progress of, viii–ix, 85–
241–244; sexual, 158–159; in marriage, 196– 113; as distinguished from first-order
197; women's response to, 203 philosophy, 4, 5–6, 21, 63–67, 69–73; as
Practical, 1–2, 7; See also Common sense distinguished from history, 4–6; split between
Presuppositions, 8–9, 49, 105–107, 109–112 humanistic thought and, 27–33, 37–46; history
Principia Mathematica (Bertrand Russell and of, 40–44, 56–60, 65–66; methodology of, 48–
Alfred North Whitehead), 50–52 49, 53–62, 116–119; laws of, 63–67, 114–129;
Principle of continuity. See Continuity, principle limitations of, 127. See also Philosophy of
of Science (Philipp Frank); Structure of Scientific
Principle of discontinuity. See Continuity, Revolutions, The (Thomas S. Kuhn)
principle of Science and Information Theory (Léon Brillouin),
Principle of symmetry. See Symmetry, principle of 102
Probability, 119–125 Sciences and the Humanities, The (W. T. Jones),
Problem that has no name, 24–25 32
Professional Suicide (Donald W. Cole), 237–239 Scientific laws. See Science, laws of
Proteins, 134–135; author's research on, 38–40, Scientific thought. See Science, split between
41, 54 humanistic thought and
Proximate cause, 140–141, 142–143, 167, 171 Second law of thermodynamics, 102–103, 125–
Psychology, 23, 142; humanistic, 20–23, 25, 26– 127, 138, 152
27; behavioral, 20–21, 23, 47; psychotherapy, Second Stage, The (Betty Friedan), 202
20–21, 23; existential, 23, 235–236 Second-order philosophy, 5–6, 7, 61–64, 79–80.
Ptolemaic astronomical system, 43–44 See also Logic
Purpose. See Purposeful thought; Purposefulness Secord, Paul F, 204–207
Purposeful thought, 1, 3, 7, 119; split between, Self-actualization, 20, 21–23, 25, 26–27, 237
and causal thought, 27–29, 30–31, 41–42; Sense, 76, 93–94. See also Intellect; Sense-
equivalence of, and causal thought, 60–62, 74– experience
87, 100, 125, 128, 131–134, 139–140, 231 Sense-experience, 75–79. See also Sense
Purposefulness, 116–119 Sense-perception, 76. See also Sense; Sense-
experience
Quantum mechanics, 64, 71–73, 90 n, 114–116, Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive
121, 125–127, 138, 152 Societies (Margaret Mead), 161, 165–168, 175–
176
Radical difference in kind. See Difference in kind Sex, Evolution, and Behavior (Martin Daly and
Real goods, 19, 215–216 Margo Wilson), 148–152
Recursive function theory, 52 Sex ratio, 151, 204–207

Index 254
Sexes: desegregation of, 184–207; evolution of, 93–94; conceptual powers, 97, 100–102, 103
150 Theology, 111–112, 209–210
Sexual Behavior of the Human Female (Alfred C. Theoretical constructs, 107–108, 109, 110, 118–
Kinsey), 158 119
Sexual Behavior of the Human Male (Alfred C. Theory of types, 52
Kinsey), 158 Thought: causal and purposeful, 1, 3, 7, 119; split
Sexual Choice (Heather Trexler Remoff), 156–157 in modern, 27–32; split between causal and
Sexual choices, 14. See also Sexual goods purposeful, 27–29, 30–31, 41–42; humanistic,
Sexual drive, 158–159 27–33, 74–75, 79, 87–88, 100; ancient, 32–33,
Sexual goods, 13–18, 82, 198–199, 240–241, 244– 42–44, 114, 129, 213; medieval, 32–33, 42–44,
245 129, 213; objects of, 32–33, 44–46, 75–77;
Sexual liberation, 190–191, 204 commonsense, 34–37, 40–46, 61, 74–84;
Sexual power, 158–159 modern philosophical, 44–46; equivalence of
Sexual reproduction, 137–139, 150 causal and purposeful, 60–62, 74–87, 100, 125,
Sexual Suicide (George Gilder). See Men and 128, 131–134, 139–140, 231
Marriage Three Boxes of Life, The (Richard Nelson Bolles),
Sexual values, 14. See also Sexual goods 233
Singapore, 191–192 Time, 114–119, 126, 130, 136, 138
Slovic, Paul, 121–122 Time of Our Lives, The (Mortimer J. Adler), 213–
Snow, C. P., 28, 220, 243–244 216, 231
Social discrimination, 177–178 Too Many Women: The Sex Ratio Question
Socially isolatable groups, 178–181, 184, 198, 207 (Marcia Guttentag and Paul F. Secord), 204–
Society, ix, 24, 71, 150, 151–245 207
Sociobiology, ix, 73, 187; validity of, 67–68; Traditional role (for women). See Career-woman
principles of, 141–143, 147–160; work of role
Margaret Mead and, 163, 167, 168, 171–172; Transcendental factors, 45
moral science and, 216–218 Tversky, Amos, 121–122
Sociobiology: The New Synthesis (Edward O. Two Cultures, The (C. P. Snow), 28, 220, 243–244
Wilson), 68 Tylor, Edward Burnett, 95
Special experience, 4–6, 21–22, 64–65, 73 Types, theory of, 52
Split in modern thought, 27–32
Spiritual entities. See Immaterial entities Ultimate cause, 140–141, 142–143, 149, 167, 171
Statistical ensemble, 122–123 Ultimate ends, 15–19, 82–83, 112–113, 213–215
Statistical laws, 120–121 Uncertainty principle, 72–73, 115–116
Statistical mechanics, 122–124, 125–127, 138, Universe, expansion of, 126–127, 138, 152
152
Status, 186–207, 224 Values. See Choices
Structure of Scientific Revolutions, The (Thomas Virtue, 208, 210–211, 220–221, 222, 235, 240
S. Kuhn), 40–41, 56–61, 65–66 Vitalist philosophies, 86–87, 88
Summa Theologica (Thomas Aquinas), 45
Superficial difference in kind. See Difference in Wants, 215–216. See also Apparent goods
kind What we ought to do. See Purposeful thought
Symbolling, 95–96, 104 White, Leslie A., 95–96
Symmetry, principle of, 80–84, 103, 219, 220, Whitehead, Alfred North, 50–52
231, 240–241 Will, 67, 76, 108, 124–125, 127, 208; freedom of,
3, 67, 83–84, 103, 163, 210. See also
Teleonomy, 130–136 Immaterial entities
Ten Philosophical Mistakes (Mortimer J. Adler), Wilson, Edward O., 68
70–71, 72–73, 79; objects of thought, 32–33, Wilson, Margo, 148, 154–155, 157–158
44–46, 75–77, 78; cognitive powers, 75–76; Work, 232–233
moral philosophy, 82, 213–216; freedom of
will, 83, 125; radical difference in kind, 88–91,

Science and Moral Choice

Diunggah oleh

Informasi Dokumen

Hak Cipta

Format Tersedia

Bagikan dokumen Ini

Bagikan atau Tanam Dokumen

Opsi Berbagi

Apakah menurut Anda dokumen ini bermanfaat?

Apakah konten ini tidak pantas?

Hak Cipta:

Format Tersedia

Science and Moral Choice

Diunggah oleh

Hak Cipta:

Format Tersedia

Science and Moral Choice

An Examination of the Foundations of Moral Philosophy

By Ronald D. Icenogle, Ph.D.

“This book is an exposition of the basic principles of moral philosophy. In addition to

Published originally by Warren H. Green, Inc., Saint Louis, Missouri, U.S.A.

approach to the performance of philosophy is essentially the same as that taken by a

The Philosophical Enterprise

precisely what I mean by these concepts.

made efforts to develop general principles about the development of civilizations.

in science as well as in philosophy. I wish to state what these presuppositions are at

Basic Principles of Moral Philosophy

to ends of greater importance, and as we grow we become concerned with ends of

An important way to divide up ends is to divide them into the groups of

As an example of an ultimate end that is a perceptible end, we can consider a

of what happiness means. Similarly, if we do not understand what fulfillment means

The Split in Western Intellectual Thought

divide them all the more. Each tradition is led to an extreme.

Commonsense Thought, Scientific Thought, and

have to account adequately for the thinking of people in extraordinary

case, the business continues and his life goes on.

the ad appearing in the newspaper is a product of the man’s understanding of the

Logic, Mathematics, and Scientific Truth

The analytic philosophers failed to do this, and it is now generally conceded

left with logical paradoxes that cannot be resolved by logic alone.

not members of themselves can be stated as a condition for certain developments of

as the purpose of work in the field.

philosophy and history of science, is that first-order philosophy is a necessary

Materialism, Sociobiology, and Modes of Reality

theories is discussed at great length by Philipp Frank in Philosophy of Science

to progress rapidly. The science then becomes increasingly reductionist, which

theory. That can only be done by an appeal to common experience.

the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

The Equivalence of Causal and Purposeful

important distinction that Mortimer J. Adler discusses in Ten Philosophical Mistakes

can be done to prevent the peril.

This principle of symmetry can be clarified by an example where its application

the analytic philosophers to reduce mathematics and scientific methodology to logic

Man's Place in the Biosphere

of genetic material, discusses such problems as these in Chance and Necessity: An

present size about 300,000 years ago.

Man's Place in the Universe

drastic are the consequences that result from this doctrine.

reality cannot be chosen entirely on logical grounds, but necessarily involve an

empirical constructs we directly perceive in the macroscopic world. The way we

if the universe as a whole is contingent, then it is necessarily radically contingent.

Time, Chance, and the Nature of Scientific Laws

is greater than or equal to h/2π, where h is a constant known as Planck’s constant.

focusing on narrower and narrower aspects of reality.

starting parameters indefinitely to allow us to achieve increasingly precise results.

X│O│X O│X│X X│X│O │ │

X│ │ X│O│ O│X│ X│X│

│O│ │ │ X│X│ │O│

This derivation of the second law of thermodynamics from laws of greater

The Basic Characteristic of Life

however, we find we still have a problem: although it is valid to think in terms of

components of an organism. Just as a protein spontaneously forms a specific three-

Evolution and Sociobiology

understand it in terms of proximate cause, ultimate cause, ontogeny, and phylogeny.

behavior by making inductive generalizations based on the individual behaviors of

stand the basic premises of sociobiology, and in particular misunderstand the

differences in cultural behavior between different individuals or groups of people

Sociobiology and Common Sense

None of the principles of sociobiology give us a picture of human society that is

The Structure of Society