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Thomas Nagel
Thomas Nagel, Mind and Cosmos: Why the Materialist Neo-Darwinian Conception of
Nature is Almost Certainly False, Oxford University Press, 2012, 130pp., $24.95 (hbk),
ISBN 9780199919758.
As the title and subtitle make clear, Thomas Nagel's recent project is an extremely ambitious
one; it is especially ambitious to attempt to tackle it in a very short book. Nagel thinks there is
a wide consensus among philosophers and scientists around a certain view of nature, the
'materialist neo-Darwinian' conception, but that this view has proved radically inadequate. It
has failed, Nagel argues, to provide adequate explanations for mind and for value, and these
things are so central to an adequate picture of the cosmos that such failures constitute a fatal
flaw. Of course, it is not just that no adequate explanation has yet been given, but rather, in
Nagel's view, that there are systematic reasons for suspecting that none could be given. Nagel
does not develop this argument from a religious perspective. Indeed, he makes it clear that
theistic assumptions have no appeal for him. Instead, insofar as he has a positive alternative to
offer, it is that we should add a measure of naturalistic teleology to our stock of explanations,
a bias of nature 'towards the marvelous' (most marvelously, leading to ourselves).
I found this book frustrating and unconvincing. Much of the frustration derives from a
difficulty in knowing what exactly its target is and, when this is clear, why. The subtitle offers
us materialism and the neo-Darwinian conception of nature. Starting with the latter, I would
have doubted that, except perhaps in the hands of Daniel Dennett, neo-Darwinism is as central
to a conception of nature as the title suggests. Darwinism, neo- or otherwise, is an account of
the relations between living things past and present and of their ultimate origins, full of
fascinating problems in detail, but beyond any serious doubt in general outline. This lack of
doubt derives not, as Nagel sometimes insinuates, from a prior commitment to a metaphysical
view -- there are theistic Darwinists as well as atheistic, naturalists and supernaturalists -- but
from overwhelming evidence from a variety of sources: biogeography, the fossil record,
comparative physiology and genomics, and so on. Nagel offers no arguments against any of
this, and indeed states explicitly that he is not competent to do so. His complaint is that there
are some explanatory tasks that he thinks evolution should perform that he thinks it can't. But
as far as an attack that might concern evolutionists, they will feel, to borrow the fine phrase of
former British minister, Dennis Healey, as if they had been savaged by a sheep.
Why does Nagel believe that materialism has to have this reductive character? It appears to be
because he believes that 'everything about the world can . . . be understood' (p. 17), and that
'rational intelligibility is at the root of the natural order'. It would not be an exaggeration to
say that for Nagel, if science can't come up with a theory of everything it has, in some deep
sense, failed. Nagel is thus, in effect, committed a priori to reductionism; the failure of
reductionism is therefore the failure of science. Perhaps the most charitable reading of the
position is that Nagel is trying to revive rationalism for an atheistic age. He doesn't, however,
make it look like an encouraging project.
The main substance of the book, once this strange philosophical backdrop has been sketched,
is an argument for the irreducibility to 'materialist neo-Darwinism' of consciousness,
cognition and values, each of which gets a chapter. Consciousness is, of course, familiar
territory for Nagel, whose classic paper 'What is it like to be a bat?' has been a major factor in
the founding of the now thriving consciousness industry. Given the special status and mystery
(even spookiness) attributed to consciousness within this movement, it is not surprising that it
has given rise to some curious metaphysical views, most famously David Chalmers's dualism
alluded to above. There are increasing stirrings of doubt about this project and even a few, like
this reviewer, who doubt whether there is anything it is like to be a bat (see Hacker 2002;
Dupré 2009), but this is not the place to pursue that argument. What seems to me beyond any
serious question is that the results and insights gained by the vast quantities of philosophical
and quasi-philosophical work on consciousness in the last few decades is hardly comparable
with the successes that stand to the credit of evolution.
The starting point of Nagel's strategy is that if the general reductionist project is to be
successful, then it must be shown how consciousness/cognition/value can be integrated into
the materialist worldview. Prima facie these things are not material. The materialist story
about how material came to possess these entities or qualities is evolution. So if evolution
cannot account for consciousness/cognition/value, it is fatally injured. Let's assume for the
sake of argument that we accept the philosophical framing of the issue. The next thing is to
give an account of these topics that blocks the evolutionary explanation. Suffice it to say that
in each case the account given is controversial. Most obviously this is true for the moral
realism that Nagel defends. Here he is quite clear that the argument could also run from the
truth of evolution to the falsity of moral realism, a direction taken, as Nagel notes, by Sharon
Street (2006). I have already mentioned the possibility of doubts about Nagel's take on
consciousness. Given the controversial status of these analyses Nagel's subtitle should at least
be amended to 'why the materialist neo-Darwinian conception of nature might possibly be
false'.
The case of cognition, finally, brings out most strikingly Nagel's rationalism. Nagel thinks that
reason gives us insights into reality that evolution cannot account for. Whereas perception
gives us a view of the world mediated by a 'mental effect' that it causes in me, something that
emerged to serve my evolutionary interests, reason gives me direct, unmediated insight into
the world. If I realise that my beliefs are in contradiction, I know directly that one of them is
false (p. 82). These are deep waters, no doubt. My own views are, first, that the mediating
mental effect in perception is a highly problematic entity, and second that surely logic is at
least mediated by language. But here I will only repeat that we have surely not been offered
anything harder to deny than the general truth of evolution.
What can't evolution explain about all this that it ought to? Nagel constantly asserts that to
explain the existence of consciousness, etc., evolution must not just show that they are
possible, but also that they are likely, or to be expected. This is, I suppose, a further
expression of his rationalism, the expectation of a certain kind of intelligibility. But still it
seems to me poorly motivated. At the time of my birth it was very unlikely that I would
several decades later be reviewing a book by a famous philosopher; but it is not mysterious
that this eventually came about. The improbability has been declining rapidly for the last few
decades. Just so with evolution. The evolution of reason may well be very unlikely indeed on
a young, hot planet. It's a great deal more likely by the time there are highly social, if not yet
rational, multicellular organisms with very complex nervous systems.
Nagel does not want to appeal to God and finds current evolutionary thinking in principle
inadequate to account for central features of human existence. Yet he is committed to the
intelligibility of the world we find ourselves in. So where can we go to provide more
satisfactory explanations? The only positive suggestion that Nagel offers to solve the pseudo-
problems he has devised is that there may be teleological laws, laws that 'bias towards the
marvelous'. What is the evidence for these strange bits of legislation? Only that they would
make the appearance of complex creatures such as ourselves, marvels that we are, more likely.
I have never felt more proud to be an empiricist.
A final point. I have myself argued that it is a serious mistake to allow fear of creationists and
other obscurantists to discourage discussion of the weaknesses and unanswered questions in
evolutionary theory. Nagel has no fear of such people and expresses a considerable sympathy
with intelligent design. On the basis of his understanding of evolution, he considers that the
rejection of their criticisms of evolution is 'manifestly unfair' (p. 10). (This may, of course,
reflect on either the understanding or the unfairness.) He just personally feels an aversion to
the theistic perspective. The title of the book, however, all too readily interpreted as
announcing the falsity of Darwinism, will certainly lend comfort (and sell a lot of copies) to
the religious enemies of Darwinism. Notwithstanding my caution about being unduly
influenced by such people, this seems unfortunate when so easily avoidable.
REFERENCES
Chalmers, David (1996). The Conscious Mind: In Search of a Fundamental Theory. New
York: Oxford University Press.
Dupré, John (2009). "Hard and Easy Questions about Consciousness", in Wittgenstein and
Analytic Philosophy: Essays for P.M. S. Hacker, eds. Hans-Johann Glock and John Hyman.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 228-249.
Hacker, P. M. S. (2002). "Is there anything it is like to be a bat?". Philosophy 77: 157-174.
Street, Sharon (2006). "A Darwinian dilemma for realist theories of value". Philosophical
Studies 127: 109-166.
Defecting from Darwinian
Naturalism: A Review of
Thomas Nagel’s Mind &
Cosmos
William Dembski
November 5, 2012, 9:30 PM
Thomas Nagel, a professor of philosophy and of law at New York University, has made his
reputation over the last fifty years as a leading contributor to moral and political philosophy,
with occasional forays into the philosophy of mind. Most famously, and most relevant to his
new book, Mind and Cosmos, he wrote an influential paper in the 1970s with the memorable
title “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?” Nagel tried to demonstrate the implausibility of the notion
that, even if one knew all the relevant physical facts about the brains of bats, one could have
any idea what it felt like to be a bat. How could the subjective feeling of this experience be
captured by a set of cold, objective biological and chemical facts about neurons? Nagel’s new
book revisits some of these ideas and aims to “develop the rival alternative conceptions” to
what he calls the “materialism and Darwinism” of our age.
Nagel’s is the latest in what has become a small cottage industry involving a handful of
prominent senior philosophers expressing skepticism about aspects of Darwin’s theory of
evolution by natural selection. Some, like the overtly Christian philosopher Alvin Plantinga,
have made a career of dialectical ingenuity in support of the rationality of religious faith.
Others, such as Jerry Fodor, are avowed atheists like Nagel, and have only tried to raise
challenges to discrete aspects of evolutionary explanations for biological phenomena.
Plantinga’s influence has largely been limited to other religious believers, while Fodor’s
challenge was exposed rather quickly by philosophers as trading on confusions (even Nagel
disowns it in a footnote). Nagel now enters the fray with a far-reaching broadside against
Darwin and materialism worthy of the true-believing Plantinga (whom Nagel cites favorably).
We suspect that philosophers—even philosophers sympathetic to some of Nagel’s concerns—
will be disappointed by the actual quality of the argument.
Nagel opposes two main components of the “materialist” view inspired by Darwin’s theory of
evolution by natural selection. The first is what we will call theoretical reductionism, the view
that there is an order of priority among the sciences, with all theories ultimately derivable
from physics and all phenomena ultimately explicable in physical terms. We believe, along
with most philosophers, that Nagel is right to reject theoretical reductionism, because the
sciences have not progressed in a way consistent with it. We have not witnessed the reduction
of psychology to biology, biology to chemistry, and chemistry to physics, but rather the
proliferation of fields like neuroscience and evolutionary biology that explain psychological
and biological phenomena in terms unrecognizable by physics. As the philosopher of biology
Philip Kitcher pointed out some thirty years ago, even classical genetics has not been fully
reduced to molecular genetics, and that reduction would have been wholly within one field.
We simply do not see any serious attempts to reduce all the “higher” sciences to the laws of
physics.
Yet Nagel argues in his book as if this kind of reductive materialism really were driving the
scientific community. The only named target is the Nobel Prize–winning physicist Steven
Weinberg, famous for his defense of the primacy of physics in such popular works as Dreams
of a Final Theory (1992). Here is what Nagel writes in describing Weinberg’s view:
Nagel here aligns himself, as best we can tell, with the majority view among both
philosophers and practicing scientists. Just to take one obvious example, very little of the
actual work in biology inspired by Darwin depends on reductive materialism of this sort;
evolutionary explanations do not typically appeal to Newton’s laws or general relativity.
Given this general consensus (the rhetoric of some popular science writing by Weinberg and
others aside), it is puzzling that Nagel thinks he needs to bother attacking theoretical
reductionism.
The second component of the thesis Nagel opposes is what we will call naturalism, the view
that features of our world—including “consciousness, intentionality, meaning, purpose,
thought, and value”—can ultimately be accounted for in terms of the natural processes
described by the various sciences (whether or not they are ever “reduced” to physics). Nagel’s
arguments here are aimed at a more substantial target, although he gives us few specifics
about the kind of naturalism he opposes. He does characterize it as the attempt to explain
everything “at the most basic level by the physical sciences, extended to include biology,” and
the one named proponent of this view is the philosopher Daniel Dennett. Although Dennett
would not characterize his project as trying to explain everything at the “most basic level,” he
does aim to show that phenomena such as consciousness, purpose and thought find a natural
home in a picture of human beings inspired by Darwin. In the absence of any clearer
statement of the argument, we will assume that this is the so-called “neo-Darwinian” picture
that Nagel opposes.
***
This style of argument does not, alas, have a promising history. After all, what could be more
common-sensical, obvious or evident than the notion that the earth is flat and the sun revolves
around the earth? All ordinary evidence supports that verdict: we know from experience that
people fall off things that are spherical, especially when trying to hang upside down from
them, and we know that the sun rises in the sky in one direction and sets in the other as it
revolves around the seemingly flat earth. Happily, Nagel does not attempt to repudiate the
Copernican revolution in astronomy, despite its hostility to common sense. But he displays
none of the same humility when it comes to his preferred claims of common sense—the kind
of humility that nearly 400 years of nonevident yet true scientific discoveries should
engender. Are we really supposed to abandon a massively successful scientific research
program because Nagel finds some scientific claims hard to square with what he thinks is
obvious and “undeniable,” such as his confidence that his “clearest moral…reasonings are
objectively valid”?
In support of his skepticism, Nagel writes: “The world is an astonishing place, and the idea
that we have in our possession the basic tools needed to understand it is no more credible now
than it was in Aristotle’s day.” This seems to us perhaps the most startling sentence in all of
Mind and Cosmos. Epistemic humility—the recognition that we could be wrong—is a virtue
in science as it is in daily life, but surely we have some reason for thinking, some four
centuries after the start of the scientific revolution, that Aristotle was on the wrong track and
that we are not, or at least not yet. Our reasons for thinking this are obvious and
uncontroversial: mechanistic explanations and an abandonment of supernatural causality
proved enormously fruitful in expanding our ability to predict and control the world around
us. The fruits of the scientific revolution, though at odds with common sense, allow us to send
probes to Mars and to understand why washing our hands prevents the spread of disease. We
may, of course, be wrong in having abandoned teleology and the supernatural as our primary
tools for understanding and explaining the natural world, but the fact that “common sense”
conflicts with a layman’s reading of popular science writing is not a good reason for thinking
so.
Incompatibility with common sense is not Nagel’s only argument against naturalism. A
second line of argument begins by appealing to what he takes to be an everyday opinion: that
there are objective moral, logical and mathematical truths. He then argues that the existence
of these kinds of objective truths is incompatible with naturalism. For the moral case, Nagel
asks: If our moral faculties are simply the result of evolution, how can they be reliable
measures of objective moral truth? Why should evolution prefer the perception of moral truth
to whatever happens to be advantageous for reproduction? Thus, if some of our moral beliefs
really are objectively true, then they cannot be the result of evolution. And because he is
confident that we do know some objective moral truths, Nagel concludes that “a Darwinian
account of the motives underlying moral judgment must be false, in spite of the scientific
consensus in its favor.” Recognizing that readers will find this inference jarring, Nagel adds:
“I, even more strangely, am relying on a philosophical claim to refute a scientific theory
supported by empirical evidence.”
There is, indeed, much that is strange here. To begin, there is nothing remotely common-
sensical about Nagel’s confidence in the objectivity of moral truth. While Nagel and his
compatriots apparently take very seriously their moral opinions—so seriously that they find it
incredible to suggest that their “confidence in the objective truth of [their] moral beliefs”
might, in fact, be “completely illusory”—this can hardly claim the mantle of “the common
sense view.” Ordinary opinion sometimes tends toward objectivism, to be sure—often by
relying on religious assumptions that Nagel explicitly rejects—but it also often veers toward
social or cultural relativism about morality. Whether morality is truly objective is a
philosopher’s claim (and a controversial one even among philosophers) about which
“common sense” is either agnostic or mixed.
We take no stance on Nagel’s hypothesis that if our moral faculties are simply the result of
evolution, they cannot be reliable measures of objective moral truth. But we should note that
Nagel’s colleague, philosopher Sharon Street, accepts it and draws the opposite conclusion.
She argues that because this hypothesis is true, and because we are obviously the products of
evolution, we should give up the idea that there are objective moral truths in Nagel’s sense.
Given the philosophical plausibility of Street’s alternative response—not to mention the
simplistic evolutionary reasoning the whole debate is predicated on—it is hard to see why any
biologist should be given pause by Nagel’s argument.
A more interesting challenge—really, the only interesting philosophical point raised in the
book—concerns logical and mathematical truths. Is it possible, Nagel asks, to reconcile a
naturalistic and biological picture of the evolution of our cognitive capacities with the
confidence we have in our ability to do logic and mathematics? Nagel’s argument invokes a
contrast with our perceptual capabilities, because our ability to reliably perceive many of the
features of our physical environment seems likely to have an evolutionary explanation. (After
all, if we could not reliably spot sudden cliffs or saber-toothed tigers, our reproductive fitness
would be seriously compromised!) But logical truths are not like that, Nagel argues. It is self-
evident that something cannot be both red and not-red at the same time (the “law of non-
contradiction”). So, too, it is self-evident that if all men are mortal, and Socrates is a man,
then Socates is necessarily mortal. Even if evolution endowed us with the capacity to
recognize the law of non-contradiction and to draw valid deductive inferences, how does it
explain the obvious truth of these logical claims? Nagel’s response to this question is that
evolution cannot—and the problem is even worse than that:
In other words, even if one thinks there is an evolutionary explanation for why we recognize
the obviousness of logical, mathematical and scientific truths, there would still be the question
of why we think evolutionary theory itself is justified. An evolutionary explanation of that
latter fact would have to presuppose the correctness of the theory whose justification we are
questioning, making the argument circular: we would have to assume that evolutionary theory
is true in order to investigate whether it is true!
***
There is a response to this kind of challenge, one that is widely embraced by philosophical
naturalists (though, again, not mentioned by Nagel). This response starts by noting that we
determine what is “rational” or “justified” simply by appealing to the most successful forms
of inquiry into the world that human beings have developed. Paradigmatic examples of those
successful forms of inquiry are, of course, physics, chemistry and biology. They are
successful precisely in the way that Aristotelian science was not: they enable us to navigate
the world around us, to predict its happenings and control some of them. To confuse one’s
intuitive confidence in the logical and epistemic norms that make these sciences possible with
some kind of a priori access to the “rational order of the world,” as Nagel puts it, is to forget
whence that confidence derives—namely, the very success of these sciences. For
philosophical naturalists, the charge of circularity is empty, akin to suggesting that the need
for a usable table to have legs requires some justification beyond the fact that the legs actually
do a necessary job.
Philosophical naturalists often appeal to the metaphor of “Neurath’s Boat,” named after the
philosopher who developed it. Our situation as inquirers trying to understand the world
around us, according to Neurath, is like that of sailors who must rebuild their ship while at
sea. These sailors do not have the option of abandoning the ship and rebuilding a new one
from scratch. They must, instead, try to rebuild it piecemeal, all the time staying afloat on
other parts of the ship on which they continue to depend. In epistemological terms, we are
also “at sea”: we cannot abandon all the knowledge about the world we have acquired from
the sciences and then ask what we really know or what is really rational. The sciences that
have worked so well for us are precisely our benchmark for what we know and what is
rational; they’re the things that are keeping us “afloat.” Extending this metaphor, we can say
that Nagel is the sailor who says, “I know the ideal form a ship should take—it is intuitively
obvious, I am confident in it—so let us jump into the ocean and start building it from scratch.”
We agree with Nagel that if the sciences could not explain our capacity to have thoughts about
the world around us, that would be a serious failing and a reason to call their findings into
question. But they can and they do! It is here that Nagel’s lack of engagement with
contemporary cognitive science and his idiosyncratic views about what a scientific
explanation should look like make his argument especially perplexing. He writes, in what
might seem a massive concession to his naturalistic opponents, “The appearance of animal
consciousness is evidently the result of biological evolution, but this well-supported empirical
fact is not yet an explanation—it does not provide understanding, or enable us to see why the
result was to be expected or how it came about.” On Nagel’s view, consciousness arose from
evolution, but despite knowing this fact, we have not explained the origin of consciousness. In
a similar vein, Nagel writes:
It is not an explanation to say just that the physical process of evolution has
resulted in creatures with eyes, ears, central nervous systems, and so forth, and
that it is simply a brute fact of nature that such creatures are conscious in the
familiar ways. Merely to identify a cause is not to provide a significant
explanation, without some understanding of why the cause produces the effect.
Nagel endorses the idea that explanation and prediction are symmetrical: “An explanation
must show why it was likely that an event of that type occurred.” In other words, to explain
something is to be in a position to have predicted it if we could go back in time. He also
writes, “To explain consciousness, a physical evolutionary history would have to show why it
was likely that organisms of the kind that have consciousness would arise.” Indeed, he goes
further, claiming that “the propensity for the development of organisms with a subjective
point of view must have been there from the beginning.”
This idea, however, is inconsistent with the most plausible views about prediction and
explanation, in both philosophy and science. Philosophers of science have long argued that
explanation and prediction cannot be fully symmetrical, given the importance of probabilities
in explaining natural phenomena. Moreover, we are often in a position to understand the
causes of an event, but without knowing enough detail to have predicted it. For example,
approximately 1 percent of children born to women over 40 have Down syndrome. This fact
is a perfectly adequate explanation of why a particular child has Down syndrome, but it does
not mean we could have predicted that this particular child would develop it. Causes alone are
frequently deemed sufficient to explain events; knowing enough to predict those events in
advance is an important scientific achievement, but not essential to explanation.
***
Nagel doesn’t think so, and because of that, he advocates the reintroduction of teleological
reasoning into science. (Teleology—the idea that natural phenomena have built-in purposes or
ends—was central to Aristotelian science, and it remained very influential until the scientific
revolution.) In his discussion of the origin of life, Nagel says that natural teleology would
mean that, “in addition to physical law of the familiar kind, there are other laws of nature that
are ‘biased toward the marvelous.’”
This is an astonishing though certainly evocative phrase (Nagel adapts it from another writer),
yet Nagel offers no further explication of it. He does admit that this proposal “flies in the teeth
of the authoritative form of explanation that has defined science since the revolution of the
seventeenth century.” Unfortunately, he is also extremely unclear about what he means by
“natural teleology,” other than assuring the reader that it is neither part of standard physical
laws nor the introduction of theology. One might think that “principles of self-organization or
of the development of complexity over time,” which Nagel gives as examples of natural
teleology, are the sort of things studied by mainstream protein chemists, developmental
biologists and condensed-matter physicists. But apparently these sciences, which study how
complex order can be built up from simple physical processes, are not on the right track.
Nagel never explains why.
Why has natural selection always been the most contested part of evolutionary theory? asks
Jeffrey A. Coyne in “The Improbability Pump” (May 10, 2010), reviewing The Greatest Show
on Earth, by Richard Dawkins, and Jerry Fodor and Massimo Piattelli-Palmarini’s What
Darwin Got Wrong.
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Brian LeiterBrian Leiter is the Karl N. Llewellyn Professor of Jurisprudence and director of
the Center for Law, Philosophy and Human Values at the University of Chicago.
The argument seems valid, and perhaps the first premise is relatively
inoffensive to naturalist and theist alike. Argument will thus center on
premises 2 and 3.
Nagel then turns to the ‘problem of value’ for MN. Nagel is here arguing
for moral realism: the actual, objective existence of moral facts which
exist independent of opinion. Nagel quickly discusses and then
dismisses what he sees as the most plausible form of moral
subjectivism (Humean ‘passions’). The core of the problem moral
realism poses for MN, as Nagel sees it, is as follows: MN is bound up
with Darwinian evolutionary explanations, and such explanations would
undercut our belief in the reliability of our moral faculties. So even if
moral facts existed, we would not be in a position to know that they
existed. Nagel, citing Sharon Street, argues that while us acting in
certain ways (e.g., protecting each other from danger) would lead to
survival, those behaviors, even in the absence of any moral beliefs
whatsoever, would be enough. And, even if us holding such beliefs was
somehow necessitated by evolution, it would not follow that such
beliefs must be true. Rather, the holding of such beliefs would
presumably serve to reinforce our acting in certain ways—ways that are
in accord with the ‘useful fictions’ of holding to moral realism. So if one
is to maintain moral realism, one should reject MN.
In this case, it seems that his antecedent sympathies prevent him from
considering theism a serious option.
The theist might also pray that Nagel comes to see that his
assumptions are indeed ungrounded, and acknowledge He who is.
[1] For the sake of brevity, I pose the argument in its clearest form sans all caveats.
However, Nagel is much less confident in his proffered option, stressing that the best we
can do at this point in our intellectual history is to posit some options with many details to
be filled in. He says, for example, that “…I am certain that my own attempt to explore
alternatives is far too unimaginative. An understanding of the universe will probably
require a much more radical departure from the familiar forms of naturalistic explanation
than I am at present able to conceive.” (p. 108, Kindle edition)
[2] MN is, briefly put, the idea that all that exists can be explained in terms of physical
substances and their physical properties. At bottom, all can be explained by the physical
sciences.
[3] Theism: the idea that there is a transcendent Mind that, through its volitions and
causal powers, is the explanation for all else that exists.
[4] My term, not Nagel’s. I call it thus to underscore this: he does see his proffered option
of ‘teleological naturalism’ as a type of naturalism. Sticking with my terminology, Nagel
defines TN as an inherent tendency or bias in the natural world to produce consciousness,
cognition, and values.
[5] Admittedly, the line between consciousness and cognition can be a bit blurry.
However, from the examples Nagel gives in the chapter on consciousness it seems he is
primarily thinking in terms of qualia—e.g., sounds, colors, and tastes.
[6] Defined, roughly, as thought, reasoning, and evaluation.
[8] Richard Swinburne makes a similar argument regarding the phenomenon of heat,
which was originally defined in terms of the subjective, first person awareness of pain.
See his The Existence of God, pp. 205-206.
[9] Nagel’s term in this context. Given his plumping for ‘teleological’ naturalism, it seems
clear that what he is really critiquing is materialistic naturalism.
[10] The proposed ‘solution’ to (a) is to adopt anti-realism. Nagel rejects moral antirealism
as well, as will be shown shortly. However, he notes that for the antirealist “solution” to
work globally, scientific anti-realism must also be adopted. This, however, becomes self-
refuting. The point of answering the problem of (a) was to save MN and evolutionary
explanations. If one adopts scientific anti-realism, then one is no longer a realist about
evolution!
[12] This is brought out nicely by Mitch Stokes in his book Shot of Faith (to the Head): “
Notice something else. The atheist naturally thinks that our belief in God is false.
Nevertheless, most human beings have believed in a god of some sort, or at least in a
supernatural realm. But suppose, for argument’s sake, that this widespread belief really is
false, and that it merely provides survival benefits for humans, a coping mechanism of
sorts. If so, then we would have additional evidence—on the atheist’s own terms—that
evolution is more interested in useful beliefs than in true ones. Or, alternatively, if
evolution really is concerned with true beliefs, then maybe the widespread belief in God
would be a kind of “evolutionary” evidence for his existence. You’ve got to wonder.”
(Location 979, Kindle edition)