Science and the search for meaning

![Figure][1] In my part of the world, if someone asks why the sky is blue, he will be told that it is because God is a Tarheel (that is, a supporter of the University of North Carolina, whose colors are white and a beautiful light blue). If the questioner is a child, that answer will be at least somewhat satisfying. If one gives the child an answer having to do with the wavelengths of light that are absorbed by gas molecules in the atmosphere, the child may find that satisfying, too. On the other hand, his eyes might glaze over—it is possible that this is not the sort of answer he was looking for. ![Figure][1] Insights from science and the humanities are woven throughout this existential treatise. PHOTO: JUPITERIMAGES/THINKSTOCK Similarly, if a person asks why humans exist, he may be asking for a purpose or a point to our existence, or he may be asking for a causal explanation of how the species came to be. If he asks for the meaning of human existence, I would have surmised that he is interested in the first sort of question. But in his new book, The Meaning of Human Existence , biologist E. O. Wilson seems to understand this as a question of the second sort. According to him, “the meaning of human existence [is] the epic of the species, begun in biological evolution and prehistory, passed into recorded history, and … also what we will choose to become.” Even if the title is misleading, as I think it is, the epic of the species is certainly an ambitious enough topic for a 200-page book. In a remarkably short space, Wilson gives an account of how our species evolved; of how it is similar to and different from other species; of the sources of our creativity and of some of our most recalcitrant tendencies; and of how we are apt to be similar to any possible extraterrestrial species with a level of intelligence comparable to or greater than ours. In other words, he puts the existence of our species in both global and cosmic perspective. Much of what he says is fascinating food for thought. There is, however, another strand running through the book that I find puzzling, regarding the unification of knowledge. Wilson repeatedly rants against the “archaic misconception” that the sciences and the humanities are intellectually independent and should remain so. Noting the explosive growth of scientific knowledge over the past few decades, he asks what this has to do with the humanities and answers “ Everything. ” Thanks to science, he says, “It is within the power of the humanities and the serious creative arts within them to express our existence in ways that begin at last to realize the dreams of the Enlightenment.” This theme of the consilience of science and the humanities will be familiar to readers of Wilson's earlier work ([ 1 ][2]), and although in this book he frequently takes pains to refer to the humanities as “all-important” and as one of the “two great branches of learning,” I cannot help but hear an echo of the Victorian gentleman who claims to find “the gentler sex” superior to his own, putting her on a pedestal while denying her the right to own property or vote. What Wilson understands the humanities to be is not so clear. When he writes, near the end of the book, that “the humanities address in fine detail all the ways human beings relate to one another and to the environment, [whereas] science addresses everything else,” it sounds as though not just history and literature but economics, sociology, and political science are part of the humanities. When, on the other hand, he remarks, “I don't believe it too harsh to say that the history of philosophy when boiled down consists mostly of failed models of the brain,” he appears to regard philosophy not as part of the humanities but as an incompetent attempt at science. It is also hard to see what Wilson wants the humanities to do other than present the findings of science in engaging prose. At one point, he suggests that the reason the view from his friend's penthouse overlooking Central Park is beautiful may be found in our prehuman ancestors' origins in the savannas of Africa. This is an admittedly fascinating suggestion, but I hope it is not offered as a model for what the study and appreciation of art should become. A wonderful documentary called Tim's Vermeer vividly presents the possibility that the Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer used a camera obscura and other mechanical devices to create his paintings ([ 2 ][3]). It is an unsettling idea. But if it were true, it would not establish that “the meaning” of Vermeer's paintings consisted in his having created them by these means. For the art historian, the art critic, and the philosopher of art, the question of how to understand Vermeer's achievement if the hypothesis were true begins rather than ends here. Similarly, one might argue that understanding the way that humans evolved and what they share and don't share with other species does not give us the meaning of human existence, so much as sets the parameters within which that question must be addressed. There is another, more salutary lesson supporters and practitioners of the humanities may take away from this book, however. In keeping with the book's grand perspective, Wilson encourages us to reflect on the path of our species from prehistory into the future. He brings up and weighs in on what he (somewhat puzzlingly) calls “the greatest moral dilemma since God stayed the hand of Abraham”—namely, how much to use genetic engineering to direct our own evolution. He also urges us to overcome tribalism in order to achieve the unity of the human race. These are indeed enormously important and pressing concerns that address the future not just of our friends and compatriots but of humanity itself. To meet such challenges, we can only benefit from a scientific understanding of the history and nature of our species. If Wilson's book encourages more humanists to take up these issues as their own—informed by science but not defined by it—it will be an accomplishment for which we all have reason to be grateful. 1. [↵][4] 1. E. O. Wilson , Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge (Knopf, New York, 1998). 2. [↵][5] 1. P. Jillette, 2. Teller , Tim's Vermeer (Sony Pictures Classics, New York, 2013). [1]: pending:yes [2]: #ref-1 [3]: #ref-2 [4]: #xref-ref-1-1 "View reference 1 in text" [5]: #xref-ref-2-1 "View reference 2 in text"