Brendan Pierson

Like it or not, the controversy over so-called intelligent design theory is here to stay, at least for a while. President Bush has spoken favorably on its behalf; school districts nationwide stick disclaimers on textbooks proclaiming evolution “only a theory;” major media outlets run earnest stories careful to give equal time to both sides. Those who value free inquiry, and in particular appreciate the importance of science and its methods, might be forgiven for feeling as though the barbarians have reached the gates. The controversy itself has been examined in detail elsewhere, and I will not treat it here. There is, however, a way in which the left has undermined its own position in the debate, one that does not bode well for its future.

Of course, the critics of intelligent design are right. It isn't science, and the push to teach it in our high school science classrooms is cause for considerable alarm. But the problem isn't just teaching a “theory” that is at best vacuous and worst false — it's fatally undermining the teaching of what science is. Understanding the apparatus of rational skepticism that drives scientific inquiry, in an age in which the questions society faces hinge increasingly on questions of science, is vital to informed citizenship. Yet ironically, the left has been as prone to misunderstanding the philosophy of science at the heart of the intelligent design debate as the religious right. In so doing, it has not only failed to understand the significance of its own position, but placed much of the establishment of organized religion on the opposite side of an ideological divide that amounts to little more than a misunderstanding.

The misunderstanding hinges primarily on the concept of randomness. Evolution is driven by random mutations over time. A mutation that leads to, say, a larger brain, or stronger limbs, is no more likely than any other. It is only over long stretches of time that, out of innumerable random mutations, some favorable ones inevitably emerge and proliferate. The random nature of the mutations that drive evolution is central to the theory; it is what allows it to explain the development of life without recourse to an intelligent designer. But it is important to remember that this in no way precludes such a designer, any more than naturalistic explanations of the physical world — Einstein's theory of relativity, say — rule out the possibility that the physical world and its laws are intelligently designed.

That is to say, randomness is a mathematical property, not a metaphysical one; that a set of data is random means only that we cannot discern any pattern in it. About religious claims of divine creation, randomness tells us nothing. Certainly, it suggests that, if life has been designed, the designer has been careful not to leave any fingerprints; but religious people have long reconciled their faith to the idea that the universe seems to work mechanistically. Perhaps it is because the origin of life is so emotionally fraught that Darwin has come under attack as Einstein has not. But the same point can be made for both: a mechanistic universe may or may not be intelligently designed. Simply pointing out that it is mechanistic is not an argument either way.

Yet the American left, with few exceptions, has often failed to articulate this principle, and sometimes actively rejected it. In the former category falls H. Allen Orr's otherwise excellent article in the May 2005 article of the New Yorker, which even goes so far as to point out that many prominent evolutionary biologists have been religious. “Whatever larger conclusions one thinks should follow from Darwinism,” Orr writes, “the historical fact is that evolution and religion have often coexisted.” But it is precisely those “larger conclusions” that need to be explored. Merely pointing out the historical fact that some scientists are religious is unlikely to assuage the fears of religious people, who know well that most scientists are not. Nor does it help that when liberals speak of intelligent design, discussion of the so-called theory's unsoundness slips easily into general mockery of Christianity, as though it were inherently anti-science and, more importantly, as though Darwin's theory were inherently atheistic. Many take after Jon Stewart, who once responded to an intelligent design supporter on The Daily Show by saying, “Dude, I totally want to smoke a bong with you.”

Is it any wonder, then, that religious people have often perceived science as a threat? Of course the misunderstanding is on both sides, but the left, in defending scientific skepticism, needs to be able to articulate clearly the limits on the claims that can be made both by religion and by science. Ascribing scientific rigor to religious dogma or philosophical speculation is wrong, but ascribing metaphysical or theological significance to scientific findings is equally wrong, and equally harmful in promoting a clear ihostility, critics of intelligent design must direct their energy toward showing why there need be no conflict.

The goal must be a widespread understanding of the mutual boundaries of science and religion. A good science curriculum built on such an understanding would not mention intelligent design. But it would also teach students about what science can't tell us, as well as what it can, and why. If the proponents of rigorous science education make clear that they aren't trying to undermine religion, they may find that they meet less opposition. Indeed, a shift may already be underway. In this past year's election, voters in Dover, Pennsylvania replaced eight Republican school board members, who had required that intelligent design be mentioned in biology classes, with a group of Democrats who call themselves Dover C.A.R.E.S, for Citizens Actively Reviewing Educational Strategies. The Dover C.A.R.E.S. platform, according to the group's website, called for the concept of intelligent design to be discussed in “a proper forum, such as an elective comparative religion course.” Opponents of intelligent design should look to Dover as an example, firmly denying intelligent design's claim to scientific status, but recognizing that science need not shut religion out of students' intellectual lives.

There has been talk, especially since last year's election, about the need for the left to reach out to religious voters. As a matter of electoral strategy this is certainly true, but to frame the problem in narrowly pragmatic terms misses a larger point. The left has lost more than votes by alienating the religious: it has lost what was once a vital part of itself. Religion has often stood on the side of abolition, labor, and civil rights throughout America's history because it guards a tradition uniquely capable of defending both individual dignity and social responsibility against the excesses and moral failings of society. It would be tragic indeed for progressives to lose this tradition in a needless conflict of their own making.