By John Médaille
http://www.frontporchrepublic.com/?p=3298

Science, Normative and Positive
Some wag somewhere has remarked that economists suffer from "physics envy." One
could certainly make that charge against W. S. Jevons (1835-1882), one of the
founders of marginal economics, when he wrote that a "perfect system of
statistics … is the only … obstacle in the way of making economics an exact
science"; once the statistics have been gathered, the generalization of laws
from them "will render economics a science as exact as many of the physical
sciences."1

More than a century has passed since Jevons wrote these words, and in that time
there has been a growth of vast bureaucracies, both public and private, devoted
to establishing this "perfect system" of statistics. Yet today economics seems
no closer to being an exact science than it was in Jevons's day. Despite this
failure, economic orthodoxy clings to the notion of itself as a positive
science. As Milton Friedman puts it, "Positive economics is in principle
independent of any particular ethical position or normative judgments. As [J.
N.] Keynes says, it deals with `what is,' not with `what ought to be.'"2

Underlying Friedman's view are two distinctions: a distinction between facts and
values (the "is" and the "ought to be" of things), and a corresponding
distinction between a "normative" science and a "positive" one, with the former
reflecting the world of values and the latter the world of facts. So which kind
of science is economics, normative or positive?

Let me suggest that the question is meaningless. Every science, insofar as it
really is a science, is both positive and normative. Every science, insofar as
it is a science, must be "normalized" to some criteria of truth. These truths
will arise from two sources: an internal and an external source. The internal
criteria involve a science's proper subject matter and methodology. But these
criteria are insufficient to found any science as a science. In addition, there
must be external criteria of truth, and these truths can only come from one or
more higher sciences. In the absence of such an external check, the science will
merely be circular, dependent on nothing but itself and disconnected from the
hierarchy of truth. Thus, for example, biology is responsible to chemistry,
chemistry to physics, physics to metaphysics. No biologist can violate the laws
of chemistry, and no chemist can reach a conclusion contrary to physics. Thus
every science is responsible to its own methodology (and therefore "positive")
and to the higher sciences (and therefore "normative"). Every science has,
therefore, both its own proper autonomy, based on its subject matter and
methodology and its own proper connection to the near sciences, based on the
hierarchy of truth. In speaking of the autonomy of a science, we should note
that it is only a relative autonomy, not an absolute one. A scientist's
obligation to be faithful to his proper method does not relieve him of the
obligation to higher truths. No science can provide its own criteria of truth
without being merely circular. When a science attempts to do so, one of two
things happens. The first possibility is that the science breaks up into
mutually warring camps whose disputes can never be resolved because there are no
accepted criteria of truth by which to resolve them. The second possibility is
that the science becomes merely dogmatic, and no rational examination of its
premises is permitted. In economics, both things have happened: the science is
divided into warring factions with no arbiter of truth among them; the
principles of the various factions have become dogmatic statements with little
connection to reality.

The Physical and Humane Sciences
The hierarchy of science allows us to define what science is, because science is
not a mere random collection of "facts," nor just a free-floating knowledge.
Rather, it is knowledge integrated into a hierarchy of truth. To know a thing,
anything, it is not sufficient to know the thing in itself, but also how it
"fits" with everything else, what its relationships are with the rest of the
world. Science then is not just knowledge, but organized knowledge. It is
precisely this organization that makes it science. We have many other kinds of
knowledge, such as tacit or intuitive knowledge, but these are not scientific
until they can be integrated into the hierarchy of knowledge, and thereby submit
themselves to the tests of truth that come from the higher sciences. Until we
know the thing in the fullness of its relationships, we don't really know it at
all. Therefore science is not just about describing things in themselves, but
about describing things in their full relationships with everything else. Now,
everything that is, is related to everything else that is, in one way or
another. Nevertheless, we can identify two general hierarchies of knowledge, two
great branches of science, the physical and the humane sciences. So the first
thing to determine about any science is not whether it is normative or positive,
but whether it is a physical or a humane science.

The distinction between these two branches of science concerns how the objects
of the science are moved to their ends. Physical objects are moved to their ends
by "laws" outside of themselves, such as the law of gravity. They do not exhibit
any degrees of freedom; that is to say, the planets are kept in their orbits by
the law of gravity and no planet can suddenly decide to reverse its course and
visit a new region of the heavens. In other words, the motions of physical
objects are completely deterministic; they are bound by the laws of nature and
cannot deviate from them. We can examine nature and discover its laws, laws that
exist independently of will and intention. This examination of nature we may
call "naturalism," and these sciences all terminate in physics, the
master-science for the study of physical objects.

Man, of course, is another physical object in the universe of objects, and is
bound by the law of gravity no less than the planets. However, he is also
something more, because while a planet cannot determine its own course, we must
determine ours. That is, we are not moved to our ends by a law like gravity, but
by the choices we make. Man is that being that can choose his own ends and make
judgments about the best means to achieve those ends. This freedom towards ends
and means is the essence of what it means to be human. The humane sciences,
therefore, have a completely different aim than the physical sciences. The
latter aim at discovering the physical laws that must be followed and are always
in fact followed; the former aim at discovering laws that ought to be followed
if we are to achieve the ends we set for ourselves, and of detailing the
consequences of not following those laws. Humane sciences have the human person
for their object, and specifically the human person in relationship, whether
that is the relationship a person has with himself, his family, his community,
the natural environment, or God. Now, political economy deals with economic
relationships, those relationships necessary for the material provisioning of
society. It is therefore a humane science and not a physical science. Like all
humane sciences, it is about right relationships.

Facts without Values?
At this point, the positivist is likely to object that no one can tell us what
kinds of relationships are "right" or "wrong." We can only note the facts and
predict the consequences. Therefore science, economic or otherwise, should
simply stick to the "facts" and let the "moral" chips fall where they may. This
view is based on a distinction between facts and values. As D. Stephen Long has
noted, "The fact-value distinction has become so determinative in the modern
world that we seldom even recognize the many ways our politics, economics, even
our theology assume and perpetuate this distinction."3

Can there be a "value-free" law for humans? The answer to this question depends
on one's theology. The older view of natural law situated it within a
discernment of the meanings of things, that is, within their proper acts and
ends. Thus, natural law would always involve a teleology, a perception of final
meaning, but such perceptions involve philosophical, theological, and cultural
questions. The Enlightenment view of nature sought to divorce natural law from
any moral or theological authority. Is this actually possible?

Let us take a simple deduction from "nature": "Lions eat lambs; therefore the
strong prey on the weak." The conclusion would seem to be an unavoidable
deduction from the indubitably factual premise, a pure instance of a "natural
law," blissfully free of any moral or theological foundation. But in fact it
contains a hidden assumption: the premise concerns animals, but the conclusion
is applied to men. Is this valid? Yes, if man is no more than an animal; no, if
man transcends the animals. If the latter is true, then natural law can never be
just a "reading" of nature, but must be guided by a consideration of the end and
nature of man. Can the issue be resolved one way or another by an appeal to pure
reason? No, because both views rest on a purely theological foundation. Man may
or may not be just an advanced animal and nothing more. Certainly, he is an
advanced animal, but the status of the "something more" cannot be proved—or
disproved. Certainly, both men and lions enjoy a leg of lamb for lunch; quite
possibly, speech is no more than an advanced form of roaring or baying. There is
simply no "proof" that men transcend, or do not transcend, the animals; it is a
matter of faith and faith alone. Therefore, the question of whether the
proposition is a valid deduction from nature depends not on the raw facts (which
cannot be disputed) but on the theology by which one reads those facts. And this
will be true for every statement which purports to be a "value-free" conclusion
from the natural world. The only question is whether the values are explicit or
hidden; if the latter, men will delude themselves into thinking that their
thinking is "value-free," when in fact it is a mere attempt to impose their
values on others. The solution is never to proclaim a "value-free" conclusion,
but to make the values that underlie the conclusion explicit, thereby exposing
them to critique and evaluation.

It would seem, therefore, that the world of human beings cannot be neatly
divided into a realm of "facts" and a realm of "values." While there may be, at
certain times and in certain cases, a methodological advantage in making such a
distinction, it is merely a way of speaking of things for limited purposes and
involves no real ontological distinction. Therefore, Chafuen's case for a
division in the natural law would seem to have failed. A realm of pure
"facticity" in human affairs is doubtful. All human observation requires some
theoretical framework to make sense of the mere sense impressions. The
theoretical framework always involves some value judgments.4 For example, in
measuring unemployment, the economist must first start by,

making the decision that it needs theoretical explanation and second [he] must
define what unemployment is, both of which are blatantly value-laden (and
political) activities. Furthermore, the choice of what methods to use to
investigate this phenomenon also involves value judgments, as does selection of
the critical criteria about what will be accepted as the "final term" in the
analysis, the bases of what arguments will or will not be accepted. However,
values and value judgments enter into theory construction on the ground floor by
giving the theorist the "vision" of the reality s(he) is attempting to explain.
This "vision" is pre-analytical in the sense that it exists before theoretical
activity takes place.5

We are, of course, bombarded each day by a reams of economic "facts" and
statistics. Each and every one of them is surrounded by the same constellation
of political and value-laden decisions as is the statistic called
"unemployment." This does not make them invalid or useless, but we must
understand the value-laden decisions that went into making each of these
numbers. The numbers are not like the numbers we get from looking at a telescope
or a oscilloscope or some instrument used in the physical sciences. Rather, each
number reflects a judgment about what the purpose and meaning of economics is.

Humane Science and Teleology
The major division of the sciences, then, is not the normative-positive duality,
but a division based on the object of the sciences, whether they be merely
physical or fully human. For the physical sciences, we need only examine the
physical world to note the relationships and regularities, and we have, in most
cases, ample room for discovering laws and testing them empirically. But when we
deal with the humane sciences, the task becomes more complex, for a simple
examination of persons cannot be undertaken without first determining what a
"right" state of affairs ought to be. For example, if we practice medicine, we
must have some idea of what good health is; we must have some "normative" state
the departure from which constitutes disease. This seems a straightforward
process in physical medicine (although it is actually fraught with many
difficulties and conundrums), but can become somewhat complex when we look at,
say, psychology. For example, if we take two psychologists, one of whom believes
that mental health means giving expression to every sexual impulse, and another
who believes that sexuality should mainly be expressed in marriage and family,
it is obvious that they will give very different kinds of advice. I have no
intention of trying to sort out those issues here; I merely point out that the
advice given will depend on each psychologist's perception of what it means to
be a human being, on what the end and purpose of our humanity is.

This is the case with every humane science. Its first task is to understand the
end and purpose of the human person, in all of his or her relationships, and
that particular science's role in contributing to those ends and purposes. This
search for ends and purposes is called teleology, from the Greek telos, a word
which connotes "that which completes or perfects a thing." Each humane science
begins, as it were, backwards, with the ends of man, whether those be the ends
of his physical or mental health, his social order, his political peace, his
need to pursue truth and knowledge, etc. Underneath all of these ends there lies
the necessity of a certain material sufficiency. Without having some security of
food, clothing, and shelter, it is difficult to pursue any of the other ends of
man. Now, all of these other ends may be higher than these bare necessities, but
every other end presumes the necessities, for no man can long pursue anything
else if he cannot get enough to eat. Hence, the pursuit of these ends is basic
to the pursuit of every other end, and the more easily they can be obtained, the
more time and energy can be devoted to the pursuit of other goals. Now, the
political economy is the science which deals with the pursuit of man's material
needs, and so it is foundational to every other humane science; even the priest,
the philosopher, and the artist need to eat. Therefore, in order to understand
the science of political economy, we must ask in greater detail just what the
purpose of this science is, which is the topic of our next chapter.

1 Quoted in James E. Alvey, "A Short History of Economics as a Moral Science,"
Journal of Markets and Morality 2, no. 1 (Spring, 1999): 62.

2 Milton Friedman, Essays in Positive Economics (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1953), 4.

3 D. Stephen Long, Divine Economy: Theology and the Market, ed. Catherine
Pickstock John Milbank, Graham Ward, Radical Orthodoxy (London and New York:
Routledge, 2000), 3.

4 Charles M.A. Clark, "Catholic Social Thought and the Economic Problem,"
Oikonomia, no. 1 (2005), http://www.pust.edu/oikonomia/pages/febb2000/Clark.htm.

5 Charles M.A. Clark, "Economic Insights from the Catholic Social Thought
Tradition: Towards a More Just Economy," (2005).