The Science of the Soul vs. The Art of Knowing (on scientism)

“Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.”

– Lao Tzu

Some argue that science, in its quest for objective facts, misses the nuances of life’s more subjective aspects — love, art, morality, and beauty.

On the flip side, others assert that science offers the clearest and most reliable understanding of reality.

Hence the formation of “scientism”.

The Case for Scientism

Scientism argues that the scientific method — with its emphasis on observation, experimentation, and reproducibility — provides the most reliable way to uncover truths about the world.

From discovering how the universe was formed to understanding diseases and the human body, science has revolutionized our lives.

For example, imagine you want to know how a plant grows. A scientist can create controlled conditions, measure light, water, and temperature, and observe the plant’s growth in response to these variables.

The results will be consistent, reliable, and repeatable, offering a clear and understandable answer to the question.

This, proponents of scientism would argue, is the power of science — it provides truths grounded in evidence.

The Human Experience Beyond Science

However, science alone can’t account for everything.

Some aspects of our existence resist quantification. Take art or literature.

Can the richness of a Shakespearean play, the emotional depth of a poem, or the complexities of a symphony be fully understood by breaking them down into chemical reactions or mathematical formulas?

Can we quantify love, the sensation of seeing a breathtaking sunset, or the feeling of joy after a meaningful conversation?

While science might explain how emotions occur in the brain, it doesn’t capture the essence of those emotions.

A scientist could tell you the specific hormones involved in the feeling of love, but would that make the experience of being in love any less meaningful?

The experience of beauty, whether in nature or art, is inherently subjective, a reflection of individual perceptions that science struggles to fully explain.

World Beyond the Observable

Some thinkers, like the philosopher Graham Harman, argue that even in fields that seem quantifiable, science often misses the mark.

He proposes that no matter how much we know about wine’s molecular composition, it’s impossible for a machine to truly taste it.

The “taste” of wine is a subjective experience that transcends what science can measure. The sensory richness of the experience cannot be reduced to data points alone.

Another example is ethics. While science can explain how people make moral decisions, it doesn’t necessarily determine what is morally right or wrong.

Should science dictate what is ethical?

For instance, if a scientific study found that an action led to the most utilitarian benefit for society, does that automatically make it right?

This is where science and values collide. Many believe that morality is something that must be shaped by human experience, culture, and philosophy — things that go beyond the realm of objective science.

The Art of Knowing: Intuition, Experience, and the Subjective World

Now, consider the human need for intuition and personal experience. These are the elements that connect us to the more abstract, poetic aspects of life — areas where science’s cold precision cannot always reach.

This is the world where art, philosophy, and human emotion reside.

They allow you to explore meaning in a way that’s uniquely yours, not tied to scientific measurements or quantifiable data.

In politics, science can explain human behavior, but values and human rights are based on moral philosophy.

In law, the interpretation of a person’s actions or intentions involves subjective judgment that cannot always be measured by empirical data alone.

In the realm of religion, science and faith often find themselves at odds.

Scientific facts and religious beliefs can sometimes contradict each other, and no amount of scientific inquiry can resolve what is essentially a question of spiritual truth.

The truth in religion, for many, lies in the experience of the divine or the moral lessons of sacred texts — not in the realm of data and experimentation.

Comparing Science and the Humanities

ConceptScienceHumanities (Art, Philosophy, Religion)
ApproachObjective, empirical, experimentalSubjective, interpretive, introspective
TruthFactual, measurableContextual, experiential
MethodsObservation, hypothesis, experimentation, validationInterpretation, experience, conceptual analysis
LimitationsStruggles to account for human emotion, values, and meaningStruggles to provide empirical evidence or universal truths

Examples In Books

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi is a book that illustrates the principle above.

Dr. Kalanithi is a neurosurgeon who grapples with both the scientific understanding of life and death and his personal experience with terminal cancer.

As a doctor, he is deeply rooted in science, relying on his medical expertise to understand the human body and the nature of disease.

However, when he is diagnosed with cancer, he finds that science cannot provide the answers to the deeper, existential questions he faces—such as the meaning of life, death, and his own mortality.

Throughout the book, Kalanithi struggles to reconcile his scientific training with the emotional and philosophical challenges of his diagnosis.

He comes to realize that while science can explain many aspects of life and health, it cannot address the full human experience, particularly when it comes to the subjective and spiritual dimensions of life.

In the end, Kalanithi concludes that science alone cannot answer all the questions that matter most in human life.

Examples In Songs

The title “The Scientist” in Coldplay’s ultra-popular song is metaphorical, representing the idea of someone who seeks logical or rational explanations for their emotions and actions, but ultimately finds that this approach cannot resolve the complexities of human relationships.

In the song, the narrator reflects on the mistakes they made in a relationship, trying to “analyze” or “fix” things like a scientist would.

However, despite their efforts to understand and correct the situation, they realize that the emotional aspects of love and regret cannot be understood or repaired through reason and logic alone.

The scientist in the title symbolizes the search for answers through methodical, intellectual means, but the song illustrates how sometimes the most important aspects of life—like love, loss, and personal growth—cannot be fully explained or fixed through science.

It reflects the limitation of rational thinking when dealing with deep, complex emotions.

A Story I Can’t Forget

There was someone I knew in school, let’s call him Ethan. He was brilliant, the kind of person who could explain complex scientific theories as easily as most people could talk about the weather.

He had an intense passion for biology, physics, and chemistry, often telling us how everything in the world could eventually be explained through science.

He believed in logic, reason, and empirical evidence above all else, and his arguments were always backed by data, facts, and precise explanations.

I remember one conversation clearly.

We were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about life, and Ethan said something I’ll never forget: “If we could just understand enough of the brain, we could explain every emotion. Grief, happiness, love… it’s all just chemical reactions in the brain, nothing more.”

At the time, I was fascinated by his confidence. His view made sense, didn’t it? After all, science had given us so much—cures for diseases, the ability to send people into space, and breakthroughs that revolutionized our daily lives.

Why couldn’t it explain everything?

Then something happened that changed everything for both of us.

Ethan’s dog, Max, had been his constant companion for years. Max wasn’t just a pet; he was a friend, a confidant, and an essential part of Ethan’s life.

When Max suddenly fell ill and passed away unexpectedly, Ethan was devastated. He tried to approach the situation like he would any scientific problem—researching the symptoms, consulting vets, looking for answers in the biology of the disease.

But despite all his knowledge, no explanation could ease the pain or the deep sense of loss he felt.

It was hard to watch Ethan, who had always been so composed and confident in his scientific understanding of the world, struggle with something as raw and human as grief.

I remember one afternoon, weeks after Max’s passing, when I bumped into him in the library.

He was sitting at a table, surrounded by textbooks, but there was something in his eyes—something I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the sharp, focused look of a scientist at work.

It was more… uncertain, almost as if he was questioning everything he had believed in.

He looked up when I approached and sighed. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said quietly. “I’ve read everything I can about his condition.

I know the biological causes, the treatments, the statistics. But none of that matters. It doesn’t bring him back. And it doesn’t explain why I feel like this.”

It was then that I realized how much Ethan’s world had shifted. His scientific knowledge, for all its brilliance, couldn’t answer the deeper, more personal questions.

Science had helped him understand Max’s illness, but it couldn’t explain the emotional devastation, the grief that lingered in his heart.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He looked at me and shook his head and said, “I don’t know…live…I guess.”

Ethan never fully abandoned his love for science, but he slowly began to accept that there were things in life that couldn’t be explained through lab results or mathematical models.

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