DESIGN ARGUMENT.
Nothing could have come by chance, it is said, and therefore it is inferred that this universe must have been created by a God.
Let us view this famous argument for a moment. God is something or nothing. To say he is nothing is to say there is no God. If he is something, he is not merely a property or quality, but an existence per se—an entity, a substance, whether material or immaterial is unimportant. If he is a substance, a material, or spiritual being, there must be order, harmony, and adaptation, or fitness, in his divine nature, to enable him to perceive, reflect, design, and execute his plans. If Deity does not reason, does not cogitate, but perceives truth without the labor of investigation and contrivance, he must still possess an adaptation or fitness thus to perceive, as well as to execute his design.
To say God is without order, harmony, and adaptation, or fitness, is to say he is a mere chaos—worse than that imaginary chaos that theologians tell us would result if divine agency were withdrawn from the universe. If a being without order, harmony, and adaptation, or a divine chaos, can create an orderly universe then there is no consistency in saying that unintelligent matter could not have produced the objects that we behold. If order, harmony, and adaptation do exist in the divine mind (or in the substance which produces thought, power, and purpose in the divine mind) they must be eternal, for that which constitutes the essential nature of a God must be the eternal basis of his being. If the order, harmony, and adaptation in God are co-existent with him, are eternal, they must be independent of design, for that which never began to exist could not have been produced, and does not therefore admit of design. If order, harmony, and adaptation are independent of design in the divine mind, it is certain that order, harmony, and adaptation exist, and are not evidence of a pre-existent, designing intelligence.
If order, harmony, and adaptation exist, which were not produced by design, which are therefore not evidence of design, it is unreasonable and illogical to infer designing intelligence from the fact alone that order, harmony, and adaptation exist in nature. Therefore an intelligent Deity cannot be inferred from the order, harmony, and adaptation in nature. If the order, harmony, and adaptation in Deity, to produce his thoughts, and to execute his plans, are eternal, why may not the formation of matter into worlds, and the evolutions of the various forms of vegetable and animal life on this globe be the result of the ceaseless action of self-existent matter in accordance with an inherent eternal principle of adaptation? Is it more reasonable to suppose the universe was created, or constructed by a being in whom exists the most wonderful order and harmony, and the most admirable adaptation to construct a universe (which order, harmony, and adaptation could have had no designing cause), than to suppose that the universe itself in its entirety is eternal, and the self-producing cause of all the manifestations we behold?
Is a God uncaused, and who made everything from nothing, more easy of belief than a universe uncaused and existing according to its own inherent nature? Is it wonderful that matter should be self-existent; that it should possess the power to form suns, planets, and construct that beautiful ladder of life that reaches from the lowest forms of the vegetable kingdom up to man? How much more wonderful that a great being should exist, without any cause, who had no beginning, and who is infinitely more admirable than the universe itself.
Again, the plan of a work is as much evidence of intelligence and design as the work which embodies the plan. The plan of a steam engine in the mind of Fitch—the plan of the locomotive in the mind of Stephenson—was as much evidence of design as the piece of machinery after its mechanical construction. If God be an omniscient being—a being who knows everything; to whose knowledge no addition can be made—his plans must be eternal—without beginning, and therefore uncaused. If God’s plans are not eternal; if from time to time new plans originate in his mind, there must be an addition to his knowledge, and if his knowledge admits of addition, it must be finite. But if his plans had no beginning; if, like himself, they are eternal, they must, like him, be independent of design. Now, the plan of a thing, we have already seen, is as much evidence of design as the object which embodies the plan. Since the plans of Deity are no proof of design that produced them (for they are supposed to be eternal), the plan of this universe, of course, was no evidence of a designing intelligence that produced it. But since the plan of the universe is as much evidence of design as the universe itself, and since the former is no evidence of design, it follows that design cannot be inferred from the existence of the universe.
The absurdity of the a posteriori argument of a God consists in the assumption that what we call order and adaptation in nature are evidence of design, when it is evident that whether there be a God or not, order and adaptation must have existed from eternity, and are not therefore necessarily proof of a designing cause. The reasoning of the theologian is like that of the Hindoo in accounting for the position of the earth. “Whatever exists must have some support,” said he. The earth exists, and is therefore supported. He imagined it resting on the back of an elephant. The elephant needing some support, he supposed rested on the back of a huge tortoise. He forgot that according to his own premise that whatever exists must have some support, that the tortoise should rest on something. The inconclusiveness of his reasoning is apparent to a child. Whatever exists is supported. The earth exists. Therefore, the earth is supported; it rests on an elephant; the elephant rests on a tortoise; the tortoise exists, but nothing is said about its support.
The theologian says order, harmony, and adaptation are evidence of a designing intelligence that produced them. The earth and its productions show order, harmony, and adaptation. Therefore, the earth and its productions have been produced by an intelligent designer. Just as the Hindoo stopped reasoning when he imagined the earth on an elephant, and the elephant on a tortoise, so the theologian stops reasoning when he says, God made the world. But as surely as from the premise that whatever exists must have some support, follows the conclusion that the tortoise rests on something, as rests on it the elephant, does it follow from the proposition that order, harmony, and adaptation are proof of an intelligent designer, that the order, harmony, and adaptation in the Deity to produce the effects ascribed to him are evidence of an intelligent designer who made him, as the various parts of nature, adapted to one another, are evidence of an intelligent designer that produced them. This reasoning leads to the conclusion that there has been an infinite succession of creative and created Gods, which is inconsistent with the idea of a First Cause, the creator of the universe. Then why attempt to explain the mysteries of the universe by imagining a God who produced everything but himself, and why argue from the order and fitness in the world the existence of a designer. It reminds me of the ostrich, that having buried its head in the sand, so as to render invisible its pursuers, fancies there is no further need of exertion to escape from the dangers and difficulties which surround it.
“Design represented as a search after final cause, until we come to a first cause, and then stop,” says F. N. Newman, “is an argument I confess which in itself brings me no satisfaction.” “The attempt,” says Buckle, “which Paley and others have made to solve this mystery by rising from the laws to the cause are evidently futile, because to the eye of reason the solution is as incomprehensible as the problem, and the arguments of the natural theologian, in so far as they are arguments, must depend on reason.”
Design implies the use of means for the attainment of ends. Man designs, plans, contrives and uses secondary agencies to accomplish his purposes, because unable to attain his ends directly. But how absurd to speak of contrivance and design in a being of infinite power and knowledge. Man, to build steamships has to fell trees and hew them into various shapes, get iron from the earth and smelt it in furnaces, and work it into bolts, braces, nails, etc., hundreds of workmen, carpenters, joiners, blacksmiths, cabinet-makers, painters, caulkers, riggers, etc., labor for months before the vessel can be launched. If man possessed the power to speak into existence a steamship, would he contrive, plan and use means to construct it? On the contrary, would it not come instantly into existence as a complete, perfect whole?
But the existence of a steamer, since it is only a means to an end, would be inconsistent with unlimited power in man. If he were able to effect his purposes why should he construct a vessel with which to visit far off lands? Infinite power would enable him to cross the ocean by the mere exercise of his will. It is evident at a glance that the use of means is incompatible with infinite knowledge and infinite power. This argument ... in proving too much proves nothing, and demonstrates its own worthlessness, and therefore we cast it aside. Design implies finiteness; man designs and has to calculate and use means to accomplish his end. If he were all powerful would he use that power to construct ships to cross the ocean, or armies to win battles, when he could accomplish his end without, and by those means demonstrate that he is infinite in power? An infinite being would not have to employ means to complete his works; he would not have to doubt and cogitate before he accomplished his design; that would be the method of man. It is absurd to suppose that a God did all those things. We supposed God infinite in everything, in his power, in his love and kindness. He has power to do everything. And yet the world is so constructed that at every step we take we crush to death creatures as minutely and curiously formed as ourselves. They kill one another in numerous struggles, and life has been such a series of bloody battles, resulting in destruction of life, that the Waterloos and Solferinos of history are nothing in comparison. Where is the design in the volcano that belches forth its fiery billows and buries in ruins a Pompeii and a Herculaneum? Where is the design in the tornado that sends a fleet with its precious freight of humanity beneath the remorseless waves? Where is the design in the suffering and torture that thousands feel this very moment in the chambers of sickness, and in the hospitals full of diseases? Where is the evidence of a great being who has the power to make men happy, and yet allows the world to go on in all its misery—such misery as it makes one’s heart ache to see, and which we, imperfect creatures as we are, would gladly stop if we could?
And where is the design in the thousands of facts which science has brought to light, showing that there are organs and parts that serve no purpose at all, but on the contrary, are injurious to their possessors? Why do some animals, like the dugong, have tusks that never cut through the gums? Why has the guinea pig teeth that are shed before it is born? Science tells us these rudimentary structures are the remnants of a former state, in which these parts were of service; but theology, which requires us to believe that a God made all these animals as we now see them, cannot possibly reconcile these facts with infinite wisdom and goodness.
Adaptation in organisms instead of having been produced by a Deity, we hold is largely the result of natural selection. Adaptation must exist as the adjustment of objects to their environments. If a flock of sheep be exposed to the weather of a severe climate, those of them having the thinnest wool, affording the least protection from the cold, will perish. Those with the thickest wool and hardiest nature will survive every year, and by the law of heredity, transmit their favorable variations. By this process those best adapted to the climate live, and the others perish. Thus in the struggle for life we have the “survival of the fittest,” without any design whatever. But the theologian comes along and looking at the sheep, says: “See how God has adapted these sheep to the climate.” He forgets the thousands that have shivered and perished in winter’s cold as the condition of this adaptation. So animals change the color of their coverings in accordance with their environments. The bears among the icebergs of the North are white, because in the struggle for life every light variation has been favorable to the animal—has facilitated its escape from the hunter and its preying upon the living things upon which it subsists. Those with darker coverings have gradually become extinct, leaving in undisputed possession of the snow banks and icebergs this species, which in color resembles the general aspect of its surroundings. Look at the rabbits. Some change their color every year; some are brown in the summer and white like the snow in winter. Those with this tendency to change their color during the year, having the most favorable variation, have persisted, and this tendency, by heredity, has been accumulated, until it has become a part of the nature of the animal.
These are but illustrations of a principle discovered by Darwin and Wallace, which explains largely how, not only color and thickness of coverings, but speed, strength and suppleness of body, keenness of sight and hearing, and all other parts and powers of organism have been developed in adaptation to their environment, without any special design whatever.
It is said we have no evidence of the eternal existence of the universe, because we have no personal observation of it. But is there any personal observation to prove the existence of an eternal God? Yet it is believed in by our opponents. We believe the universe always has existed in the past, because we see no trace of a beginning; we believe it will always exist in the future, because we see no prospect or possibility of an end. Worlds have their formation and dissolution; but the substance is neither augmented nor diminished. Matter is indestructible and eternal. We are not, therefore, in need of a creator.
B. F. Underwood.
Do the natural affairs of this world show a designer? Is there a conscious intelligence at work guiding all the affairs of this world? We see no evidence of a wise and benevolent design in the creation of wild, ravenous birds and beasts of prey. We fail to see anything like a kind providence in earthquakes, volcanoes, floods, tidal-waves, storms at sea, drouth, famine, and pestilence. Is there a supreme intelligence which causes monstrosities, sends epidemics, horrid diseases, plants parasites upon the human body? Are lice, tape-worms, bed-bugs, fleas, flies, grasshoppers, and mosquitoes “blessings in disguise?” Are abject poverty and misery divine blessings? Is ignorance a gracious boon in mercy sent? Pain and misery are not exceptional features of man’s life on earth, but they are chief characteristics of it. Are some unconscious of their degradation? Shall we infer therefrom that ignorance is bliss? If this unconsciousness of degradation on the part of some shall be considered as evidence of a benevolent designer, then what shall we say in the case of those who are conscious of their degradation?
“If,” says Haeckel, “we contemplate the common life and mutual relations between plants and animals (man included) we shall find everywhere and at all times, the very opposite of that kindly and peaceful social life which the goodness of the creator ought to have prepared for his creatures: we shall rather find everywhere a pitiless, most embittered struggle of all against all.” Large fish eat small ones, large birds devour the smaller, and the ferocious beasts of prey live upon the weaker and less fleet animals. In this struggle for existence there is one perpetual battle; the smaller, weaker and less fleet are captured and devoured by the stronger, and man destroys and eats any of them at his pleasure.
Is there a display of intelligence and benevolent design in creating man with strength and wisdom to slaughter his prey at will? Then where is the benevolence of design in creating the animals to be thus slaughtered?
The universe, we shall find, does not exhibit evidence of a conscious intelligent design. Says Shelley: “We must prove design before we can infer a designer.”
Mr. Talmage insists that it takes no especial brain to reason out a “design” in nature, and in a moment afterward says: “When the world slew Jesus, it showed what it would do with the eternal God if once it could get its hands upon him.” Why should a God of infinite wisdom create people who would gladly murder their creator? Was there any particular “design” in that? Does the existence of such people conclusively prove the existence of a good designer? (“Ingersoll’s Interviews,” p. 46.)