Curiously enough, all it took was six members of the school board in Dover, Penn. to turn the clock of scientific progress back to the 18th century.

The school board now requires all science teachers to read a statement to their classes before giving any lesson that relates to the theory of evolution. “The theory is not a fact,” the statement says. “Gaps in the theory exist for which there is no evidence.” That much is obvious; I doubt that even the most ardent Darwin fan would dispute that claim. However, the fun begins a bit further on in the school board’s masterpiece of archaism: “Intelligent design is an explanation of the origin of life that differs from Darwin’s view.”

Intelligent design is the trendy re-interpretation of an ages-old philosophical idea known as the teleological argument for the existence of God, better known as the “argument by design.” Simply put, the theory posits that the complex architecture of, say, a watch proves that an intelligent “designer” created it rather than a cocktail of random natural processes. According to the theory, the same should then apply to the natural world and specifically to life, which contains an abundance of seemingly “designed” complexities.

The problem is that this argument was demonstrated to be philosophically unsound long before Darwin ever came around. (There are many good objections, but here’s an especially juicy one: if the premise that all complexities were designed is accepted, then what could account for the complexities of the designer itself?) And then, like the second blow in a one-two punch, came Darwin, who spared us forever from having to use bad philosophy to fill in the holes that science could not yet address.

And now we’re back to square one, catering to people who are sure that evolution and the existence of God are mutually exclusive—a view with which many religious authorities disagree (Pope Benedict XVI might be a good example), let alone scientists. People, of course, can believe whatever they want, and it shouldn’t be of any particular concern to us—except when they interfere with the educational process by calling something science that simply isn’t science.

A key feature separates Darwin’s theory from the teleological argument: Darwin’s theory is backed by mountains of empirical and verifiable evidence. The teleological argument is backed by, well, a sort of musing that resembles a frustrated second-grade test-taker more than it does any real scientific process: I don’t know the answer, but there must be an answer, so I’d better guess something instead of leaving the line blank.

Therein lies the problem: guessing isn’t science. Processes of inquiry—especially those of science—are only productive when they yield valid, reliable results, and only strong evidence can provide that necessary validity. Anyone can guess anything they want, and perhaps those ideas have a place in a philosophy classroom. But in a modern science classroom, ideas are worthless if they can’t be defended empirically, which the so-called “theory” of intelligent design cannot do.

Eight families are now suing the Dover school district over its decision to force science teachers to read the now-notorious intelligent design statement, correctly claiming that the statement amounts to a back-door inclusion of creationism in the science curriculum. Their stance is commendable, but it may not be enough to reverse the medieval trend of false science across the country; the Bush Administration now supports including both intelligent design and evolution in science curricula.

Evidently, our President, along with the school board of Dover, Penn., does want to leave children behind—in the 18th century.

Andrew M. Trombly ’08, a Crimson editorial editor, is a philosophy concentrator in Eliot House.