Nature and the Gods

by Arthur B. Moss

Why is this? Because all ideas of god were born in the fertile imaginations of men, and a man's idea of god is invariably the exact measurement of himself, morally and intellectually. It may be urged by some Theists that man is indebted to Jahveh for his existence, and that he owes his moral and intellectual advancement to the fact that this deity, through the medium of Moses and the other inspired writers, laid down certain commandments for his guidance in life. When it is remembered, however, that if man is indebted in any way to Jahveh for his existence, he owes him only the exact equivalent of the benefits he has received, I think it will be seen that on the whole man's indebtedness to this deity is very small indeed.

Was Adam indebted to Jahveh for the imperfect nature which compelled him to commit the so-called sin which imperilled the future destiny of human race? Were all the "miserable sinners"—the descendants of the first pair—indebted to Jahveh for their "corrupt" natures?

If yes, what kind of god was man indebted to? To a god who once drowned the whole of mankind except one family? To a god who said that he was a jealous being who "visited the sins of the father upon the children unto a third and fourth generation." (Ex. xx., 5)? To a god who sanctioned slavery (Lev. xxv., 44, 45) and injustice of all kinds? To a god who said "thou shalt not suffer a witch to live" (Ex. xxii., 18), and gave instructions for men to kill the blasphemers among their fellows (Lev. xxiv., 16)? To a god who told Moses to go against the Midianites and slay every man among them, preserving only the virgins among the women to satisfy the lustful natures of a brutal horde of soldiers (Numbers xxxi., 7—18)? To a god to whom, as Shelley says, the only acceptable offerings were "the steam of slaughter, the dissonance of groans, and the flames of a desolate land" (Dialogue between "Eusebes and Theosophus," prose writings, page 300)? I deny that man has ever been in any way indebted to such a god, and I say moreover that such a deity never had any real existence, except in the base imaginations of ignorant and brutal men. But the next stage was from the material to the spiritual god. Many ages must have elapsed before this more elevating though equally absurd belief became to be accepted, even by a small minority of mankind. But the time eventually did come—a time which happily is now rapidly passing away—when intellectual men believed that the proposition of the existence of god could be demonstrated to all rational minds. Some said that god's existence was self-evident to every intelligent mind; others that Nature and men could not have come by "chance"; that they must have had a cause; some said that the harmony existing in the universe proved god's existence; others that everybody except fools "felt in their hearts" that there was a god. But these imaginary proofs did not always convince. At last there came forth philosophers who said that there was a mode of reasoning, the adoption of which "leads irresistibly up to the belief in god," and that that mode was called the mode à priori. Another school said that the à priori, or reasoning from cause to effect, was an altogether fallacious method, and that the only satisfactory mode of establishing god's existence was the à posteriori, or reasoning from effect to cause.

Another school said that taken singly neither of these modes of reasoning established the existence of deity, but that both taken together "formed a perfect chain" of reasoning that was quite conclusive on the point. Neither of these schools, however, showed how two bad arguments could possibly make one good one. But let me just briefly examine these arguments put forward so confidently by leading Theists. The first method— à priori —invariably takes the form of an attempt to establish what is called a "Great First Cause."

When it is said that there must be a "first cause" to account for the existence of Nature, such language, to say the least, shows a total misapprehension of the meaning of the word "cause," as used by scientific men. "First cause," as applied to Nature as a whole, remembering the definition I have given, is an absurdity. Cause and effect apply only to phenomena. Each effect is a cause of some subsequent effect, and each cause is an effect of some antecedent cause. The phenomena of the universe form a complete chain of causes and effects, and in an infinite regression there can be no first cause. Let me explain what I mean more fully. For instance, here is a chain; suppose it is to form a perfect circle, every link in which is perfect; now if you were to go round and round this chain from now to doomsday you would never come to the first link. It is the same in Nature. You can go back, and back, and back through successive causes and effects, but you will never come to a "first cause"; you will not be able to say "here is the end of Nature, and here the beginning of something else." There is no brick wall to mark the boundary line of Nature. You cannot "look through Nature up to Nature's God,"—the poet Pope notwithstanding—for Nature seems endless, and you can neither penetrate her heights nor fathom her depths. And I have one other word to say in reference to this à priori method, before finally disposing of it. It is this, that it is an altogether unscientific method. Man knows nothing whatever of cause except in the sense' that in the immediate antecedent of an effect. Man's experience is of effects; these he takes cognisance of; of these he has some knowledge, but of cause, except as a means to an end, he has none. But this brings me to the second mode of reasoning in proof of God's existence, the à posteriori and this has one advantage in its favor, and that is, that it is a scientific method. It reasons from known effects up to the supposed causes of them. Now this generally assumes the form, no matter under what guise, of the famous "design argument." Dr. Paley stated it many years ago, and it has not been much improved since his day. It is generally stated in this way: "The world exhibits marks of design; that design must have had a designer; that designer must be a person; that person is God." A number of illustrations are then brought forward to support this contention. For instance, it is argued that when a man observes a watch or a telescope, or any article that has been made to answer a certain purpose, and the mechanism of which is so adjusted as to effect the desired object, it is said that from the marks of design or contrivance observed in the mechanism, he infers that these articles are the products of some human designer. And so it is said that when we look around the world and see how beautifully things are designed, the eye to see, the ear to hear; how admirably things are adapted the one to the other, are we not justified by similar reasoning in concluding that these are the productions of an almighty and infinite designer? Briefly stated that is the argument. Now let me examine it. And in the first place it will be observed that it is assumed that there is a great resemblance between the works of Nature and the artistic works of man. But is this really a fact? Man simply moulds natural objects into certain forms; they are then called artificial objects. We know that man designs watches and telescopes; it is a fact within our experience. But there is not the slightest similarity between the process of manufacture and the natural process of growth; so that when we see various objects of Nature, we do hot conclude, however harmoniously the parts may work together, that they were designed. We know a manufactured article from a natural object, we could not mistake the one for the other. But let us suppose that we did not know that men made watches; it is very probable that we should then think that a watch was not made at all, but that it was a natural object. Take an illustration. Suppose that I were to lay a watch upon the earth somewhere in South Africa; suppose that in a short time a savage wandering near the spot where the watch was deposited should observe it, should take it into his hand and handle it—I am assuming that the savage had never seen a watch before, and was not aware that men designed and constructed watches—think you that he would for a moment notice that it exhibited marks of design? No, I think he would be more likely to come to the opinion that it was alive. The design argument therefore is purely an argument drawn from experience. But what experience has man of god? Speaking for myself I can say that I have absolutely no experience of him at all, and I am not acquainted with anybody who has. Man does not know god as a designer or constructor; he neither knows of his capabilities, nor his existence; and he therefore cannot reasonably say that god is the designer of anything.

The human eye is very often adduced by the Theist as an illustration of design. Now nobody can deny that the eye is a delicate, complicated, and beautiful structure; nobody could fail to see and acknowledge with feelings of admiration the wonderful adjustment and harmonious working of its various parts; and all would readily acknowledge how admirably it is fitted to perform its functions. But yet to acknowledge all this is not to admit that the eye is designed. To point to the combinations and conditions which produce this result, without showing that these conditions were designed, is to beg the whole question. And it must be distinctly understood that the onus probandi as the lawyers say, lies with the affirmer of the design argument and not with him who does not see evidence in it sufficient to command belief. To show that a thing is capable of effecting a certain result does not prove that it was designed for that purpose.

For example. I hold this glass in my hand; I now release my hold from it and it instantly falls to the ground; that does not surely prove either that I was designed to hold up that glass, or that the glass was designed to fall on withdrawing my grasp from it. At most it only proves that I am capable of holding it, and that when I release it, it is impelled by the law of gravitation to fall towards the earth.

But there is another view of this question I wish to present to you. From this argument it is not quite clear that there is only one supreme god of the universe. Admittedly this is an argument based upon experience. What does experience teach us in respect to a person? Simply this. That a person must have an organisation, and a person with an organisation must be a limited being. Has god an organisation? If he has not, he cannot be intelligent, cannot perceive, recollect, judge; and if he has, then an organisation implies contrivance, and contrivance implies a contriver, and this again instead of leading up to one god, leads to an innumerable tribe of deities each mightier and more complicated than the other.

If the Theist retorts that a person need not have an organisation, the Atheist at once replies that neither need the designer of Nature be a person.

But these are not the only objections to be used against the design argument. The à priori theologians have some very potent arguments to advance. Mr. William Gillespie has discovered twenty-four defects of à posteriori arguments, and I think he has conclusively shown that all the attributes claimed for deity are impeached by this method.