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Charles Darwin was hesitant, and rightly so. The implications of his crowning achievement, “On the Origin of Species,” would reach far and wide, setting off an upheaval in our conception of the natural world and our place within it. The idea that we are the latest iterations in a gradual biological process would infringe on certain sacred beliefs about the human ontology, the ramifications of which we still struggle with today.

Though we have moved away from bickering over whether we are descendants of earlier species, there remains a controversial notion about the human condition to which many still adhere. There is a sanctity of the mind, as one might call it, which sees the mind as independent of the body — a sort of mind-body dualism reminiscent of Descartes. In a context of the nature versus nurture debate, where a dichotomy between factors of hereditary vis-a-vis environmental origin in shaping human behavior is often painted, this idea of the mind amounts to an unequivocal adherence to the side of nurture.

This dichotomy, however, is problematic. The scientific understanding that the mind could be a faculty wholly free from influences stemming from outside its own purely cognitive interpretation of its environment was largely abandoned in the 20th century. Today, there is a consensus that behavior is the product of a continuous, complex and bidirectional interaction between biological and environmental factors. What was once a debate of nature versus nurture is now rather about how and to what degree these sides determine behavior.

In spite of this, the myth of the mind-body dualism survives in the mainstream consciousness of the 21st century. To understand why, we must move from biology to the realm of philosophy. By recognizing that there are differences, the reasoning goes, we justify differential treatment and discrimination — nothing short of an opening of Pandora’s box. The story seems familiar. We saw it in the condemnation of Copernicus’ heliocentric theory and in the recoil against Darwin’s evolutionary theory. These discoveries, if recognized, were thought to threaten the establishment and push society down a slippery slope towards the end of the world. Today, it is a form of obscurantism, where scientific findings are de-emphasized for imagined moral motives.

A popular argument against this aforementioned fear is that differences, existing or not, must not necessarily lead to differential treatment. But what if there is a real danger here? We recall the atrocities of the 20th century, where biology was used to justify eugenics. These were ideologically-motivated perversions of biological ideas, not adoptions. Not unlike today, biology was used as a tool to pursue a certain political and moral ideology. A moral universalist, like Kant, would detest this, precisely since morals should not be relative, which a “moral act” like this supposes them to be.

But are there other objections? A poststructuralist might argue that our entire system of understanding biology, i.e., science itself, is inherently flawed. The perceived differences, if they are there, are only the product of a constructed system which finds such “truths” as a part of its raison d’ être. This leads to subjectivism, and though we cannot refute it on its own grounds, a pragmatist might respond that, for all its flaws, the sciences have bestowed us with valuable insights and that it is better than the alternative, such as a rejection of science.

A pragmatist may on the other hand argue that, if the outcome of rejecting these scientific advancements is beneficial to us, we are right to reject them. On rare occasions, then, perhaps (scientific) ignorance is bliss. After all, most of us would not subject love for a family member or religious faith to scientific scrutiny, so should we in this case?

Darwin himself, a religious man, decided to present his idea to the world. Despite the profound inner conflict it posed to his religious conviction, and the prospect of indignity, his faith in human beings prevailed. His idea, as it became understood, would come to humble our conception of our own place in the world. Much like then, we should greet novel biological insights today not with self-censoring out of fear, but with curiosity and optimism.

OSCAR A. RUDENSTAM is a visiting junior from Tokyo, studying economics, sociology and business. His email address is osru@sas.upenn.edu. “The Idealistic Pragmatist” appears every other Tuesday.

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