CeleryKills

A Threads Conversation About Scientism

Some arguments arrive dressed for the wrong century. They wander into a modern discussion wearing antique clothes, then act surprised when people point out the fashion problem.

That was more or less the shape of a Threads exchange I recently had with a user I’ll call Vera Regni, as using actual account name for posting references can be seen as hurtful unless they are public figures exposing themselves for gain. That evaluation was challenging this case, but I put a threshold at 5000 followers, something Vera does not have. The discussion began with a familiar claim:

“Scientism claims that the only way to know truth is through science. This is a clear contradiction. The statement itself is not scientific but philosophical, therefore it fails its own test.”

At first glance, the argument has a certain satisfying symmetry. It resembles a snake swallowing its own tail. If scientism says only scientific statements count as knowledge, and that statement itself is philosophical rather than scientific, then scientism appears self-refuting.

A tidy paradox. Almost too tidy.

The first thing that caught my attention was not the conclusion but the target. Vera Regni was not actually criticizing science. They were criticizing a particular definition of scientism. Those are not the same thing, any more than criticizing astrology is criticizing astronomy.

I replied:

“You’re arguing against a strawman, not science.”

That was the real point of contention. Not whether philosophy matters. Not whether science has philosophical foundations. Everyone involved implicitly agreed that it does. The disagreement concerned what “scientism” means in contemporary discussions.

What followed felt like one of those Northwest trail conversations where two hikers discover halfway up the mountain that they have been using the same word to describe entirely different landmarks.

Vera Regni responded with a definition:

“Scientism is the philosophical belief that the methods of natural science are the only source of genuine knowledge.”

That definition certainly exists. Variations of it appear throughout critiques of scientism (Stenmark, What Is Scientism?, 1997; IEP, Scientism). Yet something about its continued popularity fascinates me. It survives because it is easy to defeat. If scientism means “science is literally the only source of knowledge,” then the doctrine promptly trips over mathematics, logic, introspection, and the philosophical assumptions necessary to conduct science in the first place (Stenmark, Scientism, 2001; IEP, Scientism). Even many people sympathetic to science have no interest in defending such a position.

Which raises an awkward question.

Who exactly is left holding this view?

Not many.

Modern discussions of scientism tend to be far narrower and more sophisticated. They focus on the claim that scientific methods have demonstrated themselves to be the most reliable means for acquiring knowledge about the external world, not the only means of thought or understanding (Stenmark, What Is Scientism?, 1997; IEP, Scientism). Whether one agrees with that position is another matter. The important point is that it is not the same claim.

That distinction became the center of the conversation.

At one point I wrote:

“Modern Scientism is the philosophical doctrine that scientific methods have demonstrated themselves to be the most reliable means of acquiring knowledge about reality.”

Notice what disappeared from the statement. The word only.

That one small change removes most of the popular objections.

A person can believe science is the most reliable method for determining facts about external reality while also believing mathematics generates knowledge, logic provides valid inference, and aesthetic judgments have meaning. In practice, that is where many contemporary defenders of scientism, including figures such as Steven Pinker and Jerry Coyne, generally situate themselves. They argue for the primacy of empirical investigation in factual disputes, not for the abolition of every non-scientific form of reasoning (IEP, Scientism; Stenmark, Scientism, 2001).

Pinker and Coyne are useful examples precisely because neither argues for the cartoon version of scientism Vera Regni was attacking. Pinker explicitly describes science not as an all-encompassing replacement for every form of human understanding, but as “a paradigm for how we ought to gain knowledge,” emphasizing its commitment to explanation, objective evaluation, and intellectual fallibilism rather than a monopoly on meaning or reason (Pinker, The Better Angels of Our Nature, 2011).

Likewise, Coyne frames the issue in terms of reliability rather than exclusivity, writing that “understanding reality… is best achieved using the tools of science,” because science possesses methods of testing and self-correction unavailable to competing approaches (Coyne, Faith vs. Fact, 2015). Neither position requires reducing mathematics, logic, art, or subjective experience to laboratory measurements. Instead, both maintain that when claims are made about the external world, science has earned a privileged epistemic status through its demonstrated ability to distinguish what is true from what is merely believed.

The conversation became increasingly interesting when Vera Regni insisted:

“My post says Scientism though not modern scientism.”

Technically fair.

Historically incomplete, but fair.

Yet this is precisely where discussions like these become revealing. When someone selects the strongest and least popular version of a doctrine while ignoring its mainstream contemporary formulations, one naturally wonders why.

There are several possibilities.

The most charitable explanation is simple unfamiliarity. Philosophical terminology drifts over time. People encounter an older definition in a book, sermon, YouTube video, or debate channel and assume that definition still dominates contemporary usage.

Another possibility is rhetorical convenience. The older definition is easier to refute because it carries self-destructive assumptions built directly into the proposition.

Then there is a third possibility.

For the past several decades, portions of religious apologetics, political commentary, and anti-science media have found the caricature of scientism useful because it creates guilt by association. If science can be linked to a ridiculous philosophical position, then trust in science itself becomes easier to undermine. The move is subtle. The audience is encouraged to think they are attacking an exaggerated philosophy when, psychologically, the suspicion migrates toward scientific institutions generally (Hayek, The Counter-Revolution of Science, 1952; Stenmark, Scientism, 2001).

Looking beyond this single exchange, however, I find the ignorance hypothesis increasingly difficult to maintain. Vera Regni’s account is heavily invested in Christian apologetics, frequently posting arguments from cosmology, fine tuning, information theory, the historicity of Jesus, and the reliability of the Gospel traditions. The recurring pattern is notable. Scientific findings are presented when they can be interpreted as supporting theism, while philosophical critiques are deployed when scientific authority appears to challenge religious conclusions. There is nothing inherently improper about that strategy. Apologetics has always borrowed from philosophy, history, and science alike. Yet it does suggest that the discussion was probably not a detached inquiry into the history of scientism. The topic emerged within a broader project of defending specific religious claims.

Put crudely, Bayesian reasoning matters. If I knew nothing about the author, unfamiliarity with contemporary discussions of scientism would be a reasonable explanation. Once I observe repeated engagement with sophisticated debates about cosmology, design arguments, historical testimony, and philosophy of religion, that explanation loses some of its force. A person familiar enough with these subjects to cite Borde, Guth, and Vilenkin, quote Richard Bauckham, and assemble historical arguments for Jesus is unlikely to be wholly unaware that contemporary defenders of science rarely define scientism as “science is the only source of truth.” At that point the older definition begins to look less like an innocent misunderstanding and more like a rhetorically useful target. Whether intentional or not, the effect is the same: the reader is invited to reject an extreme position and then transfer that rejection to science itself.

I cannot know for sure which motivation (or motivations) applied in this case. The direct exchange does not provide enough information. What it does show is a common pattern.

1. An older definition appears.
2. A contradiction is announced.
3. The contradiction is treated as though it reflects contemporary attitudes toward science.
4. And then everyone spends the next twenty comments arguing over a position almost nobody actually holds.

The irony is that the most constructive portion of the discussion arrived near the end. I explained my own view:

“Logic, mathematics, subjective experience, aesthetics, and abstract concepts exist within the realm of thought and can be examined through methods other than empirical science.”

That should not be controversial.

A mathematical proof is not a chemistry experiment. A logical syllogism is not a telescope. The experience of grief is not reducible to a lab report.

Yet when someone claims that a god intervenes in physical events, that a miracle altered objective reality, or that an invisible force produces measurable effects in the world, we have crossed a boundary. We are no longer discussing private meaning or abstract concepts. We are making claims about reality itself.

At that point empirical investigation becomes relevant.

Not because science is the only source of truth.

Because reality has a stubborn habit of leaving evidence behind.

What struck me throughout the exchange was how ordinary this distinction actually is. The idea that different kinds of claims require different kinds of justification is not some controversial doctrine invented by scientific naturalists. It is Philosophy 101. Introductory epistemology courses spend considerable time distinguishing between conceptual truths, logical truths, mathematical truths, subjective experiences, and empirical claims about the external world. The burden of justification changes depending on the nature of the claim. Nobody demands a randomized controlled trial to prove that a valid syllogism is logically valid, nor does anybody settle a dispute about planetary motion through introspection alone. The method is supposed to match the subject matter.

More importantly, the boundary between the non-physical and the physical is remarkably easy to cross. One may begin with a purely metaphysical proposition, but the moment that proposition is said to act in the world, produce effects, answer prayers, guide biological development, inspire texts, perform miracles, or alter historical events, it becomes entangled with empirical questions. At that point evidence is no longer an optional extra. It is demanded by the claim itself. I sometimes get the impression that people treat this observation as some sweeping victory for scientism when it is really just basic philosophical hygiene. If an idea reaches into the physical world, the physical world gets a vote. And that has been standard philosophical practice for far longer than modern science has existed.

The whole exchange reminded me of an old Pacific Northwest lesson. If someone wants to warn you about a scarecrow in the orchard, it helps to check whether there are any actual crows nearby first. Otherwise you may spend the afternoon triumphantly defeating straw while the real birds are eating the fruit behind you.

References

• Hayek, Friedrich. The Counter-Revolution of Science. 1952.
• Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Scientism.
• Pinker, Steven. Enlightenment Now. 2018.
• Stenmark, Mikael. What Is Scientism? 1997.
• Stenmark, Mikael. Scientism: Science, Ethics and Religion. 2001.
• Wikipedia. Scientism. Accessed 2026.
• Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Scientism. Accessed 2026.
• PhilPapers. Stenmark, Mikael, What Is Scientism? 1997.
• Taylor & Francis. Stenmark, What Is Scientism? 2001.