All About Mormons

Many who visit my blog may not realize that I’m a scientist by day. I recently wrote the following essay for a PhD-level class I’m taking on research ethics. For those who struggle with the intersection between science and religion, this essay may be helpful. I’ll be exploring these ideas further in the coming weeks.

The rightful place of science is to probe those natural phenomena that are observable, measurable, and reproducible in an attempt to answer the question, “how?” Within this context, science is a fantastically powerful tool. Scientists are well aware of this power, and they harness it skillfully. Just as important, however, is recognizing the limits of science. The rightful role of science is best understood by first identifying what is not its rightful place.

Science must recognize that not all that is important in the universe is observable, measurable, and reproducible. The hypothesis that all useful information can be accessed through scientific inquiry is, ironically, not testable by scientific means. When scientists like Richard Dawkins use their status as intellectuals to offer the “final opinion” on the very transcendent and existential questions that have puzzled humanity for millennia, they do great damage to science in the public eye. Of course scientists can participate in these discussions, but we should not suppose that our scientific training furnishes us with uncommon insights into questions unrelated to our fields of inquiry.

Scientists must recognize that scientific prowess is not necessarily correlated with ethical and moral behavior. Too many scientists suppose that their great scientific accomplishments some how provide them with an enhanced moral compass. They assume that their opinions on complex moral issues like abortion and embryonic stem-cell research constitute the only reasonable conclusion and dismiss all others as “fundamentalist” and “uneducated.” Given science’s track record, our claim to moral superiority is hardly well founded. The group responsible for the atrocities tried at Nuremberg and committed at Tuskegee has no right to lecture others about morality and ethics. Of course there are ethical scientists, and of course they can participate in discussions about ethics and morality, but, again, we should not assume that our scientific training furnishes us with uncommon insights into moral and ethical questions.

It is not the rightful place of science to serve as the antagonist or antithesis of religion. The perceived antagonism between science and some religious denominations has been extremely damaging to both. In all fairness, this antagonism is hardly unilateral; many religious people, especially fundamentalists, are themselves antagonistic towards science, but we as scientists certainly share much of the blame. It is not science’s place to answer questions that begin with “why.” These questions fall within the realm of philosophy and theology. If we openly acknowledge that we seek only to answer “how” and that our scientific training does not qualify us to answer “why,” much of the perceived conflict between science and religion can be ameliorated.

If we as scientists can learn to embrace our limitations the way we’ve embraced our scientific accomplishments, science will assume its rightful place as a trusted means, thought not necessarily the only means, by which all of humanity, both scientists and the people they serve, can progress in the quest for truth.