Nature and the Gods

by Arthur B. Moss

In my humble opinion the design argument has grown out of the arrogance and conceit of man, who imagines that the earth and all the things existing upon it were treated especially for his benefit.

Suppose that I admit that there is design in Nature, the Theist has then to account for some awkward and many horrible designs. How will he get over the fact that Nature is one vast battle-field on which all life is engaged in warfare? What goodness will he see in the design that gives the strong and cunning the advantage over the weak and simple? What beneficence will he detect in the fact that all animals "prey" upon one another? and that man is not exempt from the struggle? Famine destroys thousands; earthquakes desolate a land; and what tongue can tell the anguish and pain endured by the very poor in all great countries of the earth? Think of the "ills to which flesh is heir." Think of the diseases from which so many thousands suffer. Think how many endure agony from cancer or tumor, how many have within their bodies parasites which locate themselves in the liver, the muscles, and the intestines, causing great agony and sometimes death. Think how many are born blind and how many become sightless on account of disease. Think of the deaf and the dumb, and of the poor idiots who pass a dreary and useless existence in asylums. Then think of the accidents to which all men are liable. Think of the many who are killed or injured on railways every year. Think of men and boys who injure or destroy their limbs in machinery during the performance of their daily work. Think of the thousands who find a premature and watery grave. In one of our London workhouses I saw recently a young man who had met with a dreadful accident; who had had his hand frightfully lacerated by a circular saw, which will prevent him from ever working again. Think of his suffering. Think of the misery his wife and children will have to bear on account of it. It almost makes one shed bitter tears to think of it; and yet we are to be told, we who are striving to alleviate suffering and mitigate the evils which afflict our fellow creatures, we are to be told that an infinitely wise and good god designs these things.

Oh the blasphemy of it! Surely an infinite fiend could not do worse; and if I thought that Nature were intelligent, that Nature knew of the suffering she inflicted on all kinds of living beings and had the power to prevent it, but would not, I would curse Nature even though the curse involved for me a sudden and painful death. But Nature heareth not man's protests or appeals—she is blind to his sufferings and deaf to his prayers.

Oh, but it's said: "See what harmony there is in the Universe:" per se there is neither harmony nor chaos in Nature; we call that harmony which pleasantly affects us, and that chaos which does the reverse. Some Theist may say: "Suppose that I grant that I cannot prove that god exists, what then? You cannot prove your own existence, and yet you believe that you exist." I am well aware that I cannot prove my own existence; I don't want to prove it; it's a fact, and it stands for itself—to me it is not a matter of belief, it is a matter of certainty. I know that I exist. Cannot god make the evidence of his existence as clear as my own is to me? If he cannot, what becomes of his power? and if he will not, what of his goodness?

And it must be remembered that there are thousands of intelligent Atheists in the world to-day. Now, either god does not wish man to believe in him, or if he does he lacks the power to produce conviction. O Theist—you who profess to be conversant with the ways of the almighty—explain to me, now, how it is that in proportion as men cultivate their minds and reason on theological questions that the tendency is for them to disbelieve even in the ethereal deity of modern Theism. And it will not do in the nineteenth century to put Jesus forward as a god. He was no god. He possessed many good qualities, no doubt, as a man—but not one attribute which is claimed for god. He was neither all-wise, nor all-good, nor all-powerful, and he was only a finite being. And how can it be pretended by sensible persons that a finite man living on the earth, born of a woman, and dying like any other ordinary being, could possibly be the infinite god of the Universe? Is it not absurd? I cannot believe it, and anybody with brains that devotes a moment's thought to the matter, must acknowledge either that it is incomprehensible, or that it is monstrously absurd.

In this country we are not asked to believe in any of the "foreign gods"—the gods of ancient Greece or Rome—the gods of China, India, or Egypt, etc.—and we need not now discuss as to how far these deities have influenced human conduct for good or for ill. England, as a civilised country, is not very old. And civilisation has always meant a banishment of the gods. While men considered how to please the gods, they neglected in a great measure the work of the world. As Plato said: "The gods only help those who help themselves." Well they are just the persons who do not want help; and I shall never worship any god who leaves the helpless and the unfortunate to perish.

If god only "helps those who help themselves," he might as well leave the helping alone, because even as we find the world to-day, the whole of life seems to be based on the principle that, "unto him that hath shall be given, and he shall have in abundance, and from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he seemeth to have." The man who has a strong constitution may struggle successfully in the world; the man with great affluence may win an easy victory over his fellows; the man who has plenty of "influential friends" has good prospects; but the poor, the weakly, the ignorant, what hope have they—they have to suffer and toil, and toil and suffer from the cradle to the tomb.

How is it, then, you may ask, if man has received no assistance from without, either from Nature or the gods, that he has achieved such splendid results in the world? The answer is simple enough. The great struggle for life—the desire to get food, clothing, habitation, comfort—these have been the motives which have urged men on. The desire to get food caused men to till the soil, and, as the demand increased, the methods of cultivation improved; with improved taste came improved raiment and dwellings for the rich; plain dress and decent habitation for the poor. Men having given up the worship of Nature, began to study her; they found that by diligent investigation, and the application of their augmented knowledge, they were able to beautify the world, and render their lives happy. Then we began to have great scientific discoveries. Navigation, steam-power, telegraphy, electricity; by a knowledge of the use of these powers man has been able to conquer the destructive character of many natural forces, and to transfer a world of misery into a home of comparative comfort. And I say that the world is indebted far more to those who built houses, made clothes, navigated ships, made machinery, wrote books, than to all the gods and their clerical representatives the world has ever known. Belief in god never helped a man to supersede the sailing vessel by the steamship, the old coach by the railroad, the scythe by the reaping machine, nor the fastest locomotion by the telegraph wires. Man's necessities allured him on to all these achievements. One Stephenson is worth a thousand priests—one Edison of more value to the world than all the gods ever pictured by the imagination. And we must not forget the men who freed the human intellect from the fetters of a degrading superstition. We must not forget what the world owes to our Brunos, our Spinozas, our Voltaires, our Paines, our Priestleys; for these, by teaching men to rely on their reason, have opened out channels of thought that were previously closed, and mines of intellectual and material wealth that have since yielded great results. And so it must now be said that man is master of Nature, and he finds that she is just as good as a servant as she was bad as a master.

But the earth is not yet a Paradise. Theology is not yet entirely banished; the debris of the decayed beliefs still cumber our path and impede our progress. There is even now much that remains to be done. Plenty of labor to be performed. Ignorance, poverty, and crime and misery still exist and exert their evil influence in the world. The philanthropist and the reformer have still their work to do. The ignorant have yet to be instructed, the hungry have yet to be fed, the homeless have yet to be provided for. And I have come to the opinion after years of experience, that ignorance is the real cause of all the misery and suffering in the world; that that man is truly wise who sees that it is against his own interest to do a paltry act, to perform an evil deed. All actions carry with them their consequences, and you can no more escape the effects of your evil deeds than you can evade the law of gravitation, or elude the grim monster Death when the dread hour arrives.

No. If you would be happy you must act virtuously—act as you would desire all others to do to promote your happiness. Say to yourselves: "if every one were to act as I am doing, would the world be benefited?" and if you come to the opinion that the world would not be improved by such conduct, depend upon it your actions are not good. Remember that once you perform a deed in Nature it is irrevocable; and if it is bad repentance is worse than useless. All actions either have an evil or a good result. Every deed leaves its indelible impress on the book of Nature, from which no leaves can be torn and nothing can be expunged. And remember, too, that the man who makes his fellow-creatures happy cannot displease a god who is good; and a god who is not good is neither deserving of admiration nor service.