Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

Are There Limits to Scientists’ Obligations to Seek and

Engage Dissenters?

Kristen Intemann and Inmaculada de Melo-Martín

Abstract Dissent is thought to play a valuable role in science, so that scientific communities ought to create opportunities for receiving critical feedback and take dissenting views seriously. There is concern, however, that some dissent does more harm than good. Dissent on climate change and evolutionary theory, for example, has confused the public, created doubt about existing consensus, derailed public policy, and forced scientists to devote resources to respond. Are there limits to the extent to which scientific communities have obligations to seek and engage dissenting views? We consider the two main criteria that have been offered for what constitutes “normatively appropriate dissent” or the sort of dissent that ought to have the opportunity to be heard and taken seriously. Many have argued that dissenters must (1) engage in uptake of criticism against their own views and (2) share some standards for theory appraisal. We argue these criteria ultimately are unsuccessful.

1. Introduction

Dissent has long been recognized to play crucial roles in

the production of scientific knowledge. Dissenting views can

correct false assumptions and ensure consideration of a wider

range of theories, models, and explanations (Popper 1963;

Feyerabend 1975; Rescher 1993; Longino 1990, 2002; Solomon 2001;

Kitcher 2011). Such benefits are thought to give rise to

obligations not merely to tolerate dissent, but to actively seek and

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engage dissenting views – both within scientific communities and

from a wider range of stakeholders. Thus, many have argued that

scientists have obligations to establish public venues for

research to be critically evaluated by those with diverse

perspectives and engage with such criticism (Longino 1990, 2002;

Kitcher 2001; Solomon 2001). This might include duties to secure

the participation of dissenters in peer review, conferences,

scientific advisory panels, and academic departments (Longino

1990; Solomon 2006; Douglas 2009; Kitcher 2011).

But are there limits to the type of dissent scientists have

an obligation to seek and engage while practicing science? In

constructing climate models for instance, do researchers have

duties to create opportunities for climate change skeptics to

critically evaluate their work and take those criticisms

seriously? Are there obligations to include them on conference

programs? Should journals make an effort to include intelligent

design scientists as reviewers for manuscripts related to

evolutionary theory? While not many would advocates that

dissenting views be censored, the question is whether scientists

always have obligations to involve dissenters in evaluating

research, accepting hypotheses, taking scientific problems to be

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solved, or in synthesizing the current state of a science for

policymakers.

Some dissenters seem to assume that such obligations exist

and that scientific communities are failing to meet them. For

example, climate change skeptics charge they have unfairly been

excluded from conference programs and advisory panels and that

their work has been treated unfairly in the peer-review process

(Pearce 2010; Michaels 2009). Creationists and intelligent

design theorists argue that evolutionary theorists unreasonably

dismiss their arguments against evolutionary theory (Behe 2007;

Wells and Dembski 2007; Witt 2005).

The idea that scientists have obligations to provide

opportunities for dissenting views thus raises concerns. First,

establishing public venues for all dissenters to be heard and

have their criticisms considered may contribute to a false public

perception that there is significant disagreement or that no

scientific consensus exists. Indeed, some private companies and

think-tanks have funded scientific research aimed at generating

skepticism about climate change and environmental toxins,

stalling the development of public policy, and creating doubt

among the public and policymakers (Oreskes and Conway 2010;

Michaels 2008). Although this may happen regardless of whether

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scientists seek and engage the participation of dissenters, there

is fear that doing so risks bringing even more attention to

dissenters and exacerbating the problem. Second, engaging with

dissenting views such as those of climate change skeptics and

creationists has required scientists to devote scarce time and

resources toward refuting accounts that, in many cases, seem

obviously epistemically inadequate. Thus, although actively

promoting avenues for dissent is seen to have several benefits,

it can also have a variety of negative consequences.

One way to address this concern would be to identify

criteria for normatively appropriate dissent, or dissent that

meets some minimal epistemic requirements such that it is the

type scientists have obligations to seek and engage. Two

criteria have been dominant in the philosophy of science

literature. Scientific communities only have obligations to seek

and engage with dissenters who 1) share some standards of

evaluation (Kuhn 1977; Longino 1990, 2002; Solomon 2001; Kitcher

2011; Borgerson 2011); and 2) engage in uptake of criticism

against their own views (Longino 1990, 2002; Kitcher 2011). The

idea is that to have a fruitful discussion about competing views

some shared standards for what constitutes good evidence must

exist. Similarly, dissenters must take seriously any criticisms

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to their own views and respond to those challenges by revising

their arguments or explaining why the criticism is unsound or

misguided. If dissenters merely repeat the same arguments,

without acknowledging criticisms raised, the discussion cannot be

advanced. Proponents of these criteria have argued that they

limit our obligations to those such as creationists (Kitcher

2011; Longino 2002; Solomon 2008), climate change deniers

(Solomon 2008; Kitcher 2011), and others.

Yet these criteria are not straightforward. We argue that

judgments about whether dissenters have engaged in uptake can

only be made relative to a set of shared standards of evaluation.

Thus, the usefulness of the criterion of uptake will depend upon

the success of the criterion of shared standards. We

distinguish several different ways of understanding what

constitutes “sharing standards” and argue that the most plausible

interpretation fails to limit our obligations to dissenters.

Specifically, we will show that they fail in those cases of

dissent that they were intended to exclude: creationism, climate

change skeptics, and dissenters on GMO safety.1

1 Some may contend that here may be important differences between these cases of dissent and thus that scientific communities might approach them differently. For example, one might argue that there is significantly more uncertainty in the cases of climate change science than in the case of evolutionary theory. Perhaps under conditions of uncertainty, we have greater obligations to seek and engage dissenting

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2. Criteria for Normatively Appropriate Dissent

It is important to distinguish scientific dissent from

disagreement (Delborne 2008). Scientific dissent, for our

purposes, refers to views that run contrary to widely accepted

scientific theories, methods, or assumptions. Thus,

disagreements do not constitute dissent when there is a lack of

consensus or there exists significant debate or uncertainty

within the relevant scientific community.

It may also be important to distinguish scientific dissent

from public or lay dissent. Sometimes those who dissent from a

scientific consensus are dismissed by the scientific community

precisely because they appear not to understand the science or

they lack the appropriate expertise. Of course, what constitutes

scientific expertise is a matter of considerable debate (Knorr-

Cetina 1999; Goldman 2001; Kennedy 2005; Jasanoff 2004; Selinger

and Crease 2006; Collins and Evans 2007; Irwin and Wynne 1996).

Addressing this issue is beyond the scope of our concerns here.

views because when there is greater uncertainty, there is also presumably more disagreement and less consensus. We agree that such differences might indeed exist and be relevant. However we use these cases to assess obligations to seek and engage dissent because they are the cases that proponents of normatively appropriate dissent take to be cases where consensus exists and where engagement with dissenters is limited by the criteria they offer.

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Our focus will be on dissent that arises from scientists. In

many cases, these are the dissenting views that receive much

attention from laypersons and the media, as can be seen in the

case of climate change and GMOs.

Whether or not one takes consensus to be the goal of

science, dissent is thought to play a crucial role in the

production of scientific knowledge. Traditional Millian reasons

are usually offered as to why dissent is valuable. First, the

history of science shows that a prevailing consensus view, or

some aspect of it, may turn out to be false. Dissenters provide

challenges that help to identify such cases and correct them.

Dissent can thus contribute to the improvement and refinement of

theories (Longino 1990, 2002; Nelson 1990; Popper 1963). Second,

dissent can promote creativity, provide new ways of seeing and

thus allow us to tackle problems in a variety of productive ways

(Kitcher 2011; Feyerabend 1975; Solomon 2001, 2006). Those with

dissenting views are likely to propose and pursue new hypotheses,

models, and explanations, precisely because they reject certain

assumptions of the consensus view. Dissenting views thus make

room for alternative possibilities that might be obscured for

those who hold the majority view. Third, even when the consensus

view is correct, dissent can remind us of the evidence that

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exists in support of particular beliefs. Indeed, some have

argued that dissent helps to strengthen consensus positions

because it signifies that they were reached through a rigorous

and fair process (Anderson 2006; Beatty and Moore 2010; Kitcher

1993). For these reasons, even when it is false, dissent is

thought to be instrumentally valuable towards achieving certain

epistemic ends.

Given the importance of dissent for improving scientific

practice and knowledge, it seems reasonable to argue that

scientific communities have obligations to promote and engage

with dissenting views. However, these obligations present a

tension. On the one hand, as we have mentioned, dissent plays

crucial roles in knowledge production. Limiting opportunities for

dissenting views would be likely to constrain research agendas

and suppress important objections to theories, models, and

background assumptions, thereby hindering or distorting the

production of scientific and technological knowledge (Martin

1999; Longino 1990; Solomon 2001; Feyerabend 1975; Popper 1963;

Kuhn 1970; Nelson 1990; Harding 1993, 2008; Anderson 2006).

Moreover, to the extent that limiting opportunities for dissent

might lead to excluding the voices of those who are socially

marginal, this can also contribute to social injustice (Fricker

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2007). On the other hand, seeking and engaging some dissent can

cause confusion, require the inappropriate use of scarce

resources, adversely affect public behavior, and derail important

public policy decisions.

Scholars have confronted this tension differently. For some, all

dissent ought to be promoted and any attempt to distinguish what

constitutes normatively appropriate dissent will inevitably

reduce important epistemic benefits (Feyerabend 1975). On this

view, the negative consequences of dissent are sadly unavoidable.

Yet, it seems worth considering whether there is some dissent

that, by its nature, is incapable of playing a useful role in

knowledge production. Thus, others have attempted to address the

tension by distinguishing between good-faith dissent, where the

aim is to attain knowledge or truth, and bad-faith dissent, where

the exclusive aim is to confuse the public, stall policy, or

promote some financial or political interest.2 Yet, intentions

are difficult to discern and many times dissenters regarded as

problematic do appear to be committed to advancing truth and

developing sound policies. Indeed, scientists who are

intelligent design theorists, concerned about the safety of GMOs,

or climate change skeptics often advocate for alternative

2 Thanks to Boaz Miller for suggesting this distinction.

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policies precisely because they are convinced that the consensus

views are false. Thus, a third approach to the tension is to

identify features of dissent that, whether well-intentioned or

not, make it antithetical to the very epistemic aims it is

supposed to serve. Some have offered criteria for normatively

appropriate dissent, or dissent that has some epistemic value.

The obligations of scientists would be limited then to dissent

that meet these (Longino 1990, 2002; Solomon 2001, 2006; Kitcher

2011).

Two criteria that aim to identify normatively appropriate

dissent have been particularly dominant in the philosophy of

science literature: uptake of the criticisms of others and shared

standards of evaluation. Below we evaluate each and conclude that

they are unsuccessful in appropriately limiting our obligations

to seek and engage dissent.

A.The criterion of uptake

One possible criterion for normatively appropriate dissent is

that it must account for criticisms raised by others (Longino

1990, 2002; Nelson 1990; Kitcher 2011). This does not entail

that dissenters must submit to a particular criticism, but that

they engage with the criticisms raised by other participants.

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They can do so by defending their methodologies, reasoning, and

assumptions and giving reasons for why the criticisms are

unfounded or by revising their views accordingly (Kitcher 2011;

Longino 1990, 2002). Uptake can also work so that a dissenter

comes to agree with a criticism, but presents new evidence that

is not yet accounted for by the majority view. A failure to

engage in uptake is problematic because it prevents the sort of

critical discourse necessary to advance a debate.

Creationist and intelligent design (ID) theorists who

criticize evolutionary theory are often taken to be a paradigm

example of a failure of uptake (Longino 2002; Kitcher 2011).

According to Kitcher, the views of creationists and, recently,

more sophisticated ID theorists have already received a great

deal of attention throughout the history of science (where indeed

they were once dominant) Moreover, contemporary scientists,

historians, and philosophers have continued to dedicate time and

effort to address criticisms to evolutionary theory and other

relevant theories that operate as background assumptions for

supporting evidence, such as the physics of radioactive decay

(Gould 1977; Ruse 2005; Dembski and Ruse 2004; Kitcher 2007;

Sarkar 2007; Dawkins 2009; Coyne 2009; Brockman 2006). Kitcher

however believes that these efforts have largely been ignored and

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that critics of evolutionary theory merely repeat the same claims

(Kitcher 2011). For example, he points out that creationists have

often argued that evolutionary theory is inconsistent with the

second law of thermodynamics. Although such claim has been

refuted, Kitcher believes that they have repeated the criticism

without even acknowledging the arguments that evolutionary

theorists have made (Gish 1985; Sewell 2010; Behe 1996; Dembski

1999; Campbell and Meyer 2003). For Kitcher, the failure to

acknowledge criticisms already presented reveals a problematic

dogmatism. Insofar as dissent is supposed to be valuable towards

advancing inquiry or enhancing understanding --rather than merely

for the sake of allowing people to talk pass each other-- such

dissent fails to do so.

Yet despite this characterization, many intelligent design

theorists believe they are engaging in uptake by responding to the

challenges raised by evolutionary theorists. Although they still

advance some of the same criticisms, they do so because they

believe they have explained why the evolutionary response is

unsatisfying (Behe 2007; Dembski and McDowell 2008; Meyer 2009;

Behe 2000; Dembski 2002). Indeed, some ID theorists have claimed

that it is evolutionary theorists who have failed to engage in

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uptake of the criticisms presented to their views (Behe 2007;

Behe 2001).

So, how are we to determine whether a failure to engage in

uptake has actually occurred? It cannot be the case that

engaging in uptake requires that one capitulates to the criticism

raised, as this would essentially eliminate all dissenting views.

That is, it would require all participants to simply agree with

each other. Similarly, it cannot be that uptake requires merely

that one acknowledge the existence of a challenge, as this would

fail to eliminate any dissent as normatively inappropriate. The

requirement of uptake then is that we actually engage in some

meaningful way with the arguments presented and that we

critically evaluate the extent to which they are correct or not.

But judgments about whether one has actually engaged with the

arguments presented, presuppose some shared standards of

evaluation. That is, there must be some agreement about what

constitutes a criticism or response to a scientific claim, when a

particular criticism is relevant, or what would count as a

resolution or a destabilization of a particular position. This

might include, for example, assumptions about what constitutes

good evidence, what a successful theory needs to explain, or

whether inconsistency with other widely accepted scientific

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theories is a bad thing. Without such shared standards, there is

no basis for determining what counts as a criticism or a response

and thus whether uptake has occurred or not.

Indeed Kitcher, who relies heavily on the notion of uptake,

seems to implicitly recognize that some shared standards are

needed to make judgments about uptake. In determining whether

dissenters are presenting any new evidence that ought to be

engaged, he argues that such judgments should be made “in

conversation under the conditions of mutual engagement” (Kitcher

2011, 222). In other words, there must also be some shared

standards for whether uptake has occurred or whether evidence

presented is novel or relevant.

If this is the case, then the notion of uptake, by itself,

cannot help us identify the sort of dissent scientific

communities have obligations to seek and engage. The notion of

shared standards is also needed in order to recognize whether

uptake has taken place. Of course, the criterion of uptake

might still be necessary to determine whether a particular

instance of dissent is or not normatively appropriate. If

participants share standards but ignore the objections raised by

others, transformative criticism cannot take place. Nonetheless,

determinations about uptake cannot be performed without

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understanding the criterion of shared standards. For this

reason, we will now turn to it.

B. The criterion of shared standards

A second possible criterion for identifying normatively

appropriate dissent is that it must conform to some shared

standards of evaluation (Longino 1990, 2002; Solomon 2001). In

order for dissent to be relevant in a particular research

context, it must appeal to some values accepted by those who hold

the position being criticized. This has been referred to as

“agonistic dissent,” or dissent that plays by the “rules of the

game” within a given scientific field (Delborne 2008). These

shared standards include both the aims of inquiry, as well as

criteria for choosing between competing theories. Such standards

may consist of commitments to epistemic values, such as empirical

adequacy, expansion of knowledge, consistency with other accepted

theories, or explanatory power (Longino 1990, 2002; Kuhn 1977;

Solomon 2001). They may also include certain relevant social

values, such as relevance to or satisfaction of particular social

needs (Longino 1990; Kourany 2010). The particular standards

endorsed, as well as how those standards might be weighted

against each other, may vary depending on particular research

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contexts. However, insofar as dissenters fail to possess any

shared standards, no productive, transformative criticism is

possible (Longino 1990; Borgerson 2011).

Longino (2002) has argued that creationists and fortune

tellers can be excluded on this basis. The claim is that such

dissent relies on standards that are not shared, such as

conformity to religious doctrine or astrological principles, and

rejects other standards held by the scientific community, such as

empirical adequacy, or consistency with other highly confirmed

scientific theories. This can also help explain why, for

example, it appears that creationists have failed to engage in

uptake. That is, they seem to hold different standards for what

constitutes an objection to evolutionary theory, or for what

would constitute a “satisfactory” response. To the extent that

creationists can be said to lack standards widely shared by the

rest of the scientific community, their dissent fails to be

normatively appropriate and thus, there is no obligation to seek

and engage critical feedback from them or take their dissent

seriously.

Nonetheless, if we are to use this as a criterion for

determining who we have obligations to seek out and include in

scientific discussions, it is important to be clear about what

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this criterion requires. That is, when should we say that

dissenters sufficiently share standards of evaluation? Two

difficulties arise. First, it is not clear how many standards

should be shared. There must be at least one shared standard, but

it also seems that there might be reasonable disagreement about

standards for theory evaluation themselves (Borgerson 2011).

Longino argues that different subcommunities will subscribe to

different but overlapping subsets of standards associated with a

wider community, all of who must share a commitment to empirical

adequacy (Longino 1990, 77). While disagreement about standards

of evaluation may be a source of conflict, she notes that it will

allow participants to compare and critically assess putative

knowledge created under different standards (Longino 2002, 155).

It also enables participants to see things from multiple points

of view. So, for instance, participants might agree that theories

ought to be empirically adequate but disagree about whether we

should prefer simpler theories to more complex ones. Thus, in

any particular context, participants need only agree on some

standards of evaluation.

Yet it is not clear whether participants within a

subcommunity must share some other standards besides empirical

adequacy. Some have argued that empirical adequacy alone is

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sufficient to delineate normative appropriate dissent and limit

our obligations to promote and engage dissent (Solomon 2001;

Solomon 2008; Borgerson 2011). But it is not obvious that this

is the case. Intelligent design theorists and climate change

skeptics have expressed a commitment to empirical adequacy. Of

course, it is tempting to argue that ID theorists claims to

empirical adequacy are not reasonable. For example, ID theorists

sometimes make ad hoc modifications to background assumptions in

order to render observed data consistent with their views. But,

in this case, what will count as a “reasonable” claim to

empirical adequacy will need to appeal to other shared standards or

at the very least other shared assumptions about what constitutes

empirical adequacy. This leads as into a second difficulty: it

is not clear what the depth of the agreement about a particular

standard must be.

As many have argued, particular standards or values for

theory choice can be interpreted in different ways (Longino 1995;

Kuhn 1977). For example, even among those who agree that

simplicity is a virtue in theory choice, there are disagreements

about what “simplicity” means (Sober 1988; Plutynski 2005; Steel

2009; Zellner, Keuzenkamp, and McAleer 2001). Does having shared

standards require not only the agreement that simpler theories

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are to be preferred, but also agreement about how to interpret

simplicity? If so, this would provide a stronger basis to limit

our obligations to seek and engage dissenting views. While

evolutionary theorists and intelligent design theorists may both

profess that simpler theories should be preferred, they seem to

have different understandings about what this means. Some ID

theorists, for example, adhere to an understanding of simplicity

as quantitative parsimony when they argue that their theory is

simpler than evolutionary theory. They claim that ID is

quantitatively simpler in the sense that it posits a single cause

that can explain observed complexity in the world (Behe 1996).

However, evolutionary theorists claim that their theory is

simpler because it posits fewer types of ontological entities.

That is, it is more qualitatively parsimonious because it does

not posit a supernatural being that can also be explained in

terms of natural processes (Ruse 1982). Thus, evolutionary

biologists perhaps have no obligation to seek and engage ID

theorists because, even when they may share broad theoretical

commitments, they have no shared understanding about what

simplicity means.

But, of course, if communities had to share not only broad

theoretical commitments, but also particular interpretations of

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those commitments, this would reduce the sort of epistemic

pluralism within scientific communities that Longino and others

have argued is valuable (Longino 1990, 2002; Borgerson 2011;

Miller 2013). On this interpretation, the shared standard

requirement would be “thicker” in that it would require greater

agreement and fail to tolerate disagreements about how to

interpret particular standards.

There is another even “thicker” way to interpret the

requirement for shared standards. One might think that the

criterion of shared standards requires not only that parties

interpret standards in the same way, but also that they share

enough other background assumptions to be able to apply them in

particular cases.

In this case, we could easily limit our obligations to all

of the dissenters that proponents of the criterion have taken to

be problematic. Creationists and evolutionary theorists may agree

that empirical adequacy is a virtue and may even agree that to be

empirically adequate a theory must account for observed

phenomena. But, one might argue that creationists fail to have a

shared understanding about what is actually observed and whether

or not it is explained by the theory in question. For instance,

creationists argue that observations of the fossil record reveal

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that there are no transitional fossils and take this to be

evidence for special creation. Evolutionary theorists disagree

about what we would expect to observe if the theory of evolution

were true. First, they point out that evolution occurred slowly

over thousands of years, such that we would not expect to see

sudden shifts or the sort of transitional fossils that creations

claim we ought to see if evolution were true. Moreover, they

argue that there are significant gaps in the fossil record and

that it represents only a very limited view of the sort of life

that existed. Thus, to the extent that we fail to observe

transitional fossils this is easily explained by evolutionary

theory. Hence, creationists might be said to fail to

sufficiently share the sorts of background assumptions that are

necessary for being able to apply empirical adequacy in the same

way as evolutionary theorists.

Climate change skeptics could also be said to lack shared

standards in this sense. For example, although climate change

skeptics share a commitment to empirical adequacy, and may agree

what that requires, they disagree about what the empirical

evidence is, because they take some data to be unreliable. They

have criticized data gathering techniques that were used to

establish the temperature record on which climate scientists

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often rely (Fall et al. 2011; Lomborg 2008). Thus, on a thick

interpretation of shared standards, we might say that mainstream

climate scientists have no obligation to seek and engage such

dissenters because they simply do not have a share standard

regarding what constitutes appropriate data collection or

statistical methodologies.

This seems to be the sort of implicit understanding that

Kitcher has of sharing standards when he argues that in the ideal

deliberation that occurs in of well-ordered science, there would

be no rational dissent to the scientific consensus on the safety

of genetically modified organisms (GMOs)3 (Kitcher 2011). For

Kitcher, those who press dissenting views about GMO safety do so

not because they fail to recognize the virtue of empirical

adequacy, or have different views about what empirical adequacy

requires. Rather, the problem with GMO safety dissenters is that

3 We are not claiming that a scientific consensus actually exists on thesafety of GMOs. Indeed, some might argue that the current “consensus” isamong molecular biologists and scientists who collaborate with agribusiness corporations mainly in the US and is not sufficiently diverse or representative to be an indicator of knowledge (Miller 2013).Large numbers of ecologists, agricultural scientists, sociologists, and medical practitioners in areas where GMOs are grown in many poor countries would deny that this is genuine consensus. Our point here is thus not to defend the existence of a consensus on the safety of GMOs. Rather, we are interested in determining what conception of shared standards underlies Kitcher’s contention that we have no obligations to seek and engage dissent on GMO safety. We thank a reviewer for forcing us to clarify this point.

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they have other problematic background assumptions that are

leading them to reject the empirical evidence that GMOs are safe.

He claims that such dissenters must either have the false belief

that GMOs are somehow different in kind than other biological

organisms or that the empirical evidence is not reliable because

it has been produced by those with financial conflicts of

interest. But, in well-ordered science, where participants are

fully informed and there are checks on the commercial interests

in science, Kitcher argues that neither of these background

beliefs could be reasonably held. Kitcher states:

…[O]nce it is recognized that GMOs and GMFs pose no

special risk (they are not distinguished from other organisms by

containing special evil ingredients), once it is apparent that

responsible agriculture has procedures for evaluating risk, and

once there is a trusted public agency for assessing risks

independently of the influence of profit-seeking corporations,

the stage is set for the piecemeal production and licensing of

GMOs (Kitcher 2011, 238).

This suggests that in order for dissent to be normatively

appropriate, dissenters must share not only a commitment to

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empirical adequacy, but also background assumptions that are

relevant to determining whether or not certain evidence should be

taken as evidence for a particular hypothesis, such as GMO

safety. But GMO dissenters have different assumptions about what

constitutes a risk, how risk is best measured, and the extent to

which those making risk assessments ought to be trusted as

reliable (DeFrancesco 2013; Lacey 2005). Kitcher seems to think

that such disagreement could not reasonably occur in well-ordered

science and thus our obligations to seek and engage such dissent

would be limited on that basis. This view also reflects

Kitcher’s contention that the aim of science is ultimately to

achieve a scientific consensus (Kitcher 2002). Thus, Kitcher,

unlike Longino, seems less concerned with cultivating epistemic

pluralism within scientific communities.

While this thick interpretation might aid us in limiting our

obligations to seek and engage some dissent that seems

intuitively problematic such as ID, the fact that it would also

limit our obligations to engage the dissent presented by some GMO

critics is worrisome. Presumably, there are many cases of

beneficial dissent where there is disagreement on the sorts of

background beliefs involved in the GMO case, that is,

disagreements about background beliefs that are crucial to

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measuring empirical adequacy. An example that Longino (1990)

discusses is the debate in anthropology over the evolution of

tool use in humans. For a long time, the consensus view was that

tool use evolved as a result of the hunting practices of males,

who needed to find ways to secure food for their families

(Washburn and Lancaster 1968; Laughlin 1968; Wilson 1975). As

more women began to enter the field of anthropology in the 70s

and 80s, they began to dissent from this view and to argue that

the activities of women also contributed to the evolution of tool

use in humans (Wylie and Nelson 2007; Dahlberg 1981; Gero 1991;

Wylie 2001). Advocates of both hypotheses argued that they were

committed to empirical success and they agreed that empirically

adequate theories should be able to help make successful

empirical predictions. But, they disagreed about what is

observed in the archaeological record. Proponents of the woman-

the-gatherer hypotheses pointed to evidence such as reeds and

baskets that were used for foraging and transporting food. Those

who held the consensus “man-the-hunter” view maintained that

reeds and baskets were not tools. Thus, although there may have

been a shared commitment to empirical adequacy, they seem to have

had different background assumptions that were salient for

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determining what counts as the empirical data that needs to be

accounted for.

In this case, Longino clearly believes that there is an

obligation to seek and engage critics of the consensus view.

Indeed, much of her work has been aimed at showing that the

inclusion of those with feminist commitments and other

historically excluded values and interests play a crucial role in

challenging problematic background assumptions and increasing the

objectivity of scientific communities. Thus, it cannot be that,

on her view, we only have obligations to seek and engage

dissenters who not only agree on the same theoretical virtues,

but also on how to understand them and apply them in particular

cases.

What the preceding discussion shows is that the criterion of

shared standards can thus be interpreted more thickly or more

thinly. If it is interpreted as a thick requirement to share the

same theoretical virtues, the same interpretation of those

virtues, and sufficiently similar background assumptions that

would be relevant to applying those virtues, it would be very

robust in terms of limiting our obligations to seek and engage

dissent. However, this would be at the expense of having

scientific communities with diverse perspectives that are crucial

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to scrutinizing background assumptions and proposing

alternatives. Not only would the objectivity of a scientific

community thus be threatened, but the important value that

dissent offers would be lost. Conversely, the criterion of

shared standards may be interpreted rather thinly as a commitment

to having some broadly shared standards --or empirical adequacy

at the very least-- even though there may be disagreements about

how to best understand them or apply them in practice. On this

interpretation, the criterion is unlikely to exclude much of the

dissent that is typically thought problematic, and thus would

fail in meaningfully limiting our obligations to seek and engage

dissent.

It seems clear that, on Longino’s view, having shared

standards must be a relatively thin requirement, allowing for

critical disagreement about background assumptions and at least

some evidentiary standards as well. She seems to believe that

this thin interpretation of shared standards is sufficient to

limit our obligations to seek and engage the dissent of fringe

groups such as Young Earth creationists and fortune-tellers. It

is, however, not clear this is correct, as it appears that even

these groups might share – in the thin sense - a commitment to

empirical adequacy. But, even if it turned out that fortune-

Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

tellers really cannot be said to share any standards, this will

only limit our obligations to seek and engage dissent in very

minimal ways. Indeed, it could only limit the sorts of extreme

cases where providing opportunities for and engaging with such

dissenters is unlikely to have any problematic consequences.

While it seems clear that engaging with fortune tellers would be

a waste of scientific resources, doing so would probably not

exacerbate public confusion about existing consensus views or

challenges faced in developing sound public policy. That is,

neither a majority of the public nor policymakers is likely to

take fortune-tellers seriously in a way that would give rise to

confusion, doubt, or delays in public policy.

For Kitcher, however, the problem is actually more

significant. On his view, there is an assumption that shared

standards will be robust enough to exclude not only ID theorists,

but also climate change skeptics and those who reject what he

takes to be the consensus view about GMO safety (Kitcher 2011).

But, as we have seen, the sort of thicker interpretation that

would be required to limit our obligations to seek and engage

dissent from these groups would likely rule out a great deal more

dissent that seems clearly epistemically beneficial.

Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

4. Conclusions: Where does this leave us?

We have examined two central criteria that have been offered as

candidates for what constitutes normatively appropriate dissent

and argued that they are ultimately unsuccessful. The criterion

of uptake is only useful relative to a set of shared standards.

The shared standards criterion can be interpreted more thickly as

requiring significant agreement among participants or more thinly

as demanding minimal accord. Along this spectrum, the thicker

the requirement, the more risks exist of excluding epistemically

valuable dissent, and thus of threatening scientific objectivity.

The thinner the requirement, the more epistemically diverse a

scientific community will be (in a way that may increase

objectivity), but also the greater risk of needing to seek and

engage with dissent that appears problematic.

Of course, this does not show that a successful account of

normatively appropriate dissent is impossible. What it does show

is the need to look for alternative, or more nuanced, criteria

for determining the limits of our obligations to seek and engage

dissent. Moreover, our analysis suggests that setting limits on

reasonable dissent requires a tradeoff with epistemic pluralism,

which is also quite valuable. Thus, the question is whether the

benefits of pluralism outweigh the potential costs of seeking and

Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

engaging a broader group of dissenters. Our analyses may also

suggest that perhaps we need a more contextualist approach to

normatively appropriate dissent. Perhaps rather than identifying

necessary and sufficient conditions for normatively appropriate

dissent, we might instead identify the sorts of features that

might make it more reasonable to engage with dissenters in a

particular context. It may depend, for example, on the sort of

engagement and level of resources required, whether the

particular dissenters have been historically excluded or

marginalized from scientific debates, or the risks of seeking and

engaging dissenters in certain contexts. While developing such

an account is beyond the scope of this paper, we hope to have

shown that such a project is needed.

Of course, at this point, one might instead bite the bullet

and say that perhaps all dissent is normatively appropriate and

that thus that there are no limits to our obligation to seek and

engage dissent (at least not in terms of the types of dissenting

views). Longino, for example, might be happy to conclude that, as

difficult as it may intuitively be, we do indeed have obligations

to seek and engage dissent from a wide variety of views,

including climate skeptics and more sophisticated intelligent

design theorists. Nonetheless there are genuine limits to

Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

scientific resources and those devoted to addressing dissenting

views will be unavailable for other endeavors. Moreover, if

providing opportunities for dissent and taking dissenting views

seriously can create the impression that a lack of consensus

exists and that particular public policies are unwarranted, then

determining the limits to scientific communities’ obligations to

seek and engage dissent still seems an important task. Our claim

here is that this work is still to be done.

Acknowledgments We would like to thank Boaz Miller and Sharon Crasnow for providing helpful feedback on earlier drafts of this manuscript. This paper also greatly benefited from the comments and suggestions of three anonymous referees.

Synthese (2014) 191:2751–2765

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