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In December 2010 the Department of Science and Technology (DST) launched a monthly competition in association with Cincinnati-based Proctor & Gamble (P&G) to solicit innovative ideas from Indian researchers. Winners were promised a cash award of $1000 and possible commercialization of their ideas by P&G, which has a beauty business worth over US$10 billion in global sales. But the competition's first call - for skin whitening alternatives to hydroquinone, which is not approved for use in many places including the European Union - has prompted criticism from researchers who argue that such products help to propagate racist attitudes in the country. Meanwhile, the department's January challenge for cheaper alternatives to silicones in shampoos, lotions, fabric softeners, and other beauty products marketed by P&G has fared little better. The principal drawback of silicones is their expense and poor biodegradability but some researchers argue that India has more pressing issues for its scientists to address.

However, the current DST secretary Thirumalachari Ramasami disagrees. The DST-P&G Challenge of The Month is only a small part of the department's overall activities, he says. “It is not a priority project but a very minor programme compared to larger issues of national importance that we are concerned with,” Ramasami told Nature adding that his department has earmarked only Rs.50 million (US$1.1 million) in total for the project. He says it is absurd to accuse the DST of promoting beauty research at the expense of more important problems. “Tell me which challenging issue has been ignored by DST?” he asks.

Is it legitimate to cite one’s intuitions as evidence in a philosophical argument?

appeals to intuitions are ubiquitous in philosophy. What are intuitions? Well, that’s part of the controversy, but most philosophers view them as intellectual “seemings.” George Bealer, perhaps the most prominent defender of intuitions-as-evidence, writes, “For you to have an intuition that A is just for it to seem to you that A… Of course, this kind of seeming is intellectual, not sensory or introspective (or imaginative).”2 Other philosophers have characterized them as “noninferential belief due neither to perception nor introspection”3 or alternatively as “applications of our ordinary capacities for judgment.”4

Philosophers may not agree on what, exactly, intuition is, but that doesn’t stop them from using it. “Intuitions often play the role that observation does in science – they are data that must be explained, confirmers or the falsifiers of theories,” Brian Talbot says.5 Typically, the way this works is that a philosopher challenges a theory by applying it to a real or hypothetical case and showing that it yields a result which offends his intuitions (and, he presumes, his readers’ as well).

I've interacted with more people who think a single counter-example is enough to prove a generalisation or stereotype wrong (in other words, those who confuse the concepts of range and mean [or, perhaps, confidence intervals]) than people who think that stereotypes always hold.

perhaps this reveals that the oft-mentioned person who cannot think beyond stereotypes is a classic bogeyman

the people I interact with on such issues are those who have a higher level of education, but then this would be proof that "education is a method whereby one acquires a higher grade of prejudices".

Recently I re-read Richard Taylor’s An Introduction to Virtue Ethics, a classic published by Prometheus

Taylor compares virtue ethics to the other two major approaches to moral philosophy: utilitarianism (a la John Stuart Mill) and deontology (a la Immanuel Kant). Utilitarianism, of course, is roughly the idea that ethics has to do with maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain; deontology is the idea that reason can tell us what we ought to do from first principles, as in Kant’s categorical imperative (e.g., something is right if you can agree that it could be elevated to a universally acceptable maxim).

Taylor argues that utilitarianism and deontology — despite being wildly different in a variety of respects — share one common feature: both philosophies assume that there is such a thing as moral right and wrong, and a duty to do right and avoid wrong. But, he says, on the face of it this is nonsensical. Duty isn’t something one can have in the abstract, duty is toward a law or a lawgiver, which begs the question of what could arguably provide us with a universal moral law, or who the lawgiver could possibly be.

What is the one bit of science from your field that you think everyone should know?David Attenborough: The unity of life.Richard Dawkins: The unity of life that comes about through evolution, since we're all descended from a single common ancestor. It's almost too good to be true, that on one planet this extraordinary complexity of life should have come about by what is pretty much an intelligible process. And we're the only species capable of understanding it.

RD: I know you're working on a programme about Cambrian and pre-Cambrian fossils, David. A lot of people might think, "These are very old animals, at the beginning of evolution; they weren't very good at what they did." I suspect that isn't the case?DA: They were just as good, but as generalists, most were ousted from the competition.RD: So it probably is true there's a progressive element to evolution in the short term but not in the long term – that when a lineage branches out, it gets better for about five million years but not 500 million years. You wouldn't see progressive improvement over that kind of time scale.DA: No, things get more and more specialised. Not necessarily better.RD: The "camera" eyes of any modern animal would be better than what had come before.DA: Certainly... but they don't elaborate beyond function. When I listen to a soprano sing a Handel aria with an astonishing coloratura from that particular larynx, I say to myself, there has to be a biological reason that was useful at some stage. The larynx of a human being did not evolve without having some function. And the only function I can see is sexual attraction.RD: Sexual selection is important and probably underrated.DA: What I like to think is that if I think the male bird of paradise is beautiful, my appreciation of it is precisely the same as a female bird of paradise.

People say Richard Feynman had one of these extraordinary minds that could grapple with ideas of which I have no concept. And you hear all the ancillary bits – like he was a good bongo player – that make him human. So I admire this man who could not only deal with string theory but also play the bongos. But he is beyond me. I have no idea what he was talking of.

I kicked off a recent episode of the Rationally Speaking podcast on the topic of transhumanism by defining it as “the idea that we should be pursuing science and technology to improve the human condition, modifying our bodies and our minds to make us smarter, healthier, happier, and potentially longer-lived.”

Massimo understandably expressed some skepticism about why there needs to be a transhumanist movement at all, given how incontestable their mission statement seems to be. As he rhetorically asked, “Is transhumanism more than just the idea that we should be using technologies to improve the human condition? Because that seems a pretty uncontroversial point.” Later in the episode, referring to things such as radical life extension and modifications of our minds and genomes, Massimo said, “I don't think these are things that one can necessarily have objections to in principle.”

There are a surprising number of people whose reaction, when they are presented with the possibility of making humanity much healthier, smarter and longer-lived, is not “That would be great,” nor “That would be great, but it's infeasible,” nor even “That would be great, but it's too risky.” Their reaction is, “That would be terrible.”

The only way to guarantee either a daughter or son is to undergo pre-implantation genetic diagnosis: a genetic analysis of an embryo before it is placed in the womb. This is illegal in Britain except for couples at risk of having a child with a life-threatening gender-linked disorder.

It’s also illegal for clinics to offer sex selection methods such as MicroSort, that sift the slightly larger X chromosome-bearing (female) sperm from their weedier Y chromosome-bearing (male) counterparts, and then use the preferred sperm in an IVF cycle. With a success rate hovering around 80-90 per cent, it’s better than Mother Nature’s odds of conception, but not immaculate.

Years ago I agreed with this ban on socially motivated sex selection. But I can’t defend that stance today. My opposition was based on two worries: the gender balance being skewed—look at China—and the perils of letting society think it’s acceptable to prize one sex more than the other. Unlike many politicians, however, I think it is only right and proper to perform an ideological U-turn when presented with convincing opposing evidence.

By Carlin Romano Standing up for science excites some intellectuals the way beautiful actresses arouse Warren Beatty, or career liberals boil the blood of Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh. It's visceral.

A brave champion of beleaguered science in the modern age of pseudoscience, this Ayn Rand protagonist sarcastically derides the benighted irrationalists and glows with a self-anointed superiority. Who wouldn't want to feel that sense of power and rightness?

You hear the voice regularly—along with far more sensible stuff—in the latest of a now common genre of science patriotism, Nonsense on Stilts: How to Tell Science From Bunk (University of Chicago Press), by Massimo Pigliucci, a philosophy professor at the City University of New York.

Scientists these days tend to keep up a polite fiction that all science is equal. Except for the work of the misguided opponent whose arguments we happen to be refuting at the time, we speak as though every scientist's field and methods of study are as good as every other scientist's and perhaps a little better. This keeps us all cordial when it comes to recommending each other for government grants.

Why should there be such rapid advances in some fields and not in others? I think the usual explanations that we tend to think of - such as the tractability of the subject, or the quality or education of the men drawn into it, or the size of research contracts - are important but inadequate. I have begun to believe that the primary factor in scientific advance is an intellectual one. These rapidly moving fields are fields where a particular method of doing scientific research is systematically used and taught, an accumulative method of inductive inference that is so effective that I think it should be given the name of "strong inference." I believe it is important to examine this method, its use and history and rationale, and to see whether other groups and individuals might learn to adopt it profitably in their own scientific and intellectual work. In its separate elements, strong inference is just the simple and old-fashioned method of inductive inference that goes back to Francis Bacon. The steps are familiar to every college student and are practiced, off and on, by every scientist. The difference comes in their systematic application. Strong inference consists of applying the following steps to every problem in science, formally and explicitly and regularly: Devising alternative hypotheses; Devising a crucial experiment (or several of them), with alternative possible outcomes, each of which will, as nearly is possible, exclude one or more of the hypotheses; Carrying out the experiment so as to get a clean result; Recycling the procedure, making subhypotheses or sequential hypotheses to refine the possibilities that remain, and so on.

On any new problem, of course, inductive inference is not as simple and certain as deduction, because it involves reaching out into the unknown. Steps 1 and 2 require intellectual inventions, which must be cleverly chosen so that hypothesis, experiment, outcome, and exclusion will be related in a rigorous syllogism; and the question of how to generate such inventions is one which has been extensively discussed elsewhere (2, 3). What the formal schema reminds us to do is to try to make these inventions, to take the next step, to proceed to the next fork, without dawdling or getting tied up in irrelevancies.

Before the purchase a Campendonk expert had confirmed the painting's authenticity and identified the painter's signature on a label attached to the back. But 15 months later Martin, who would later publish a novel about the New York art scene called "An Object of Beauty," tried to re-sell the work. Art auction house Christie's finally auctioned it off in February 2006 to a Swiss businesswoman for €500,000 -- a loss of €200,000 from Martin's original purchase price.

Some forgeries of Max Ernst paintings were so convincing that even Werner Spies, an art historian and Ernst expert, gave them his seal of approval. When the true origin of the paintings emerged last year it caused a commotion in the art community, where trading works by classic 20th century artists is a lucrative business.

We're confused because we seem to think that to be black is to be "cool". We seem to think that being black has something to do with playing sport very well, or being very handsome, or very beautiful, or very sexy. We seem to think it has something do with multi-millionaire musicians who make music that uses words like "nigger", "bitch" and "whore". We seem to think, or some people seem to think, that knowing a black person, or having had sex with a black person, is something to boast about to another black person, or even to a white person. Something that will make us look "cool".

To many readers — and to some of Moretti’s fellow academics — the very notion of quantitative literary studies can seem like an offense to that which made literature worth studying in the first place: its meaning and beauty. For Moretti, however, moving literary scholarship beyond reading is the key to producing new knowledge about old texts — even ones we’ve been studying for centuries.

Do the languages we speak shape the way we see the world, the way we think, and the way we live our lives? Do people who speak different languages think differently simply because they speak different languages? Does learning new languages change the way you think? Do polyglots think differently when speaking different languages?

For a long time, the idea that language might shape thought was considered at best untestable and more often simply wrong. Research in my labs at Stanford University and at MIT has helped reopen this question. We have collected data around the world: from China, Greece, Chile, Indonesia, Russia, and Aboriginal Australia.

What we have learned is that people who speak different languages do indeed think differently and that even flukes of grammar can profoundly affect how we see the world.