A Candid Examination of Theism

by George John Romanes

Some physicists are inclined to dispute the fundamental proposition in which the whole of Mr. Spencer's system of philosophy may be said to rest—the proposition, namely, that the fact of the "persistence of force" constitutes the ultimate basis of science. For my own part, I cannot but believe that any disagreement on this matter only arises from some want of mutual understanding; and, therefore, in order to anticipate any criticisms to which the present work may be open on this score, I append this explanatory note.

I readily grant that the term "persistence of force" is not a happy one, seeing that the word "force," as used by physicists, does not at the present time convey the full meaning which Mr. Spencer desires it to convey. But I think that any impartial physicist will be prepared to admit that, in the present state of his science, we are entitled to conclude that energy of position is merely the result of energy of motion; or, in other words, that potential energy is merely an expression of the fact that the universe, as a whole, is replete with actual energy, whose essential characteristic is that it is indestructible. And this may be concluded without committing ourselves to any particular theory as to the physical explanation of gravity; all we need assert is, that in some way or other gravity is the result of ubiquitous energy. And this, it seems to me, we must assert, or else conclude that gravity can never admit of a physical explanation. For all that we mean by a physical explanation is the proved establishment of an equation between two quantities of energy; so that if energy of position does not admit of being interpreted in terms of energy of motion, we must conclude that it does not admit of being interpreted at all—at least not in any physical sense.

Throughout the foregoing essays, therefore, I have assumed that all forms of energy are but relatively varying expressions of the same fact—the fact, namely, which Mr. Spencer means to express when he says that force is persistent. And it seems to me almost needless to show that this fact is really the basis of all science. For unless this fact is assumed as a postulate, not only would scientific inquiry become impossible, but all experience would become chaotic. The physicist could not prosecute his researches unless he presupposed that the forces which he measures are of a permanent nature, any more than could the chemist prosecute his researches unless he presupposed that the materials which he estimates by energy-units are likewise of a permanent nature. And similarly with all the other sciences, as well as with every judgment in our daily experience. If, therefore, any one should be hypercritical enough to dispute the position that the doctrine of the conservation of energy constitutes the "ultimate datum" of science, I think it will be enough to observe that if this is not the "ultimate datum" of science, science can have no "ultimate datum" at all. For any datum more ultimate than permanent existence is manifestly impossible, while any such datum as non-permanent existence would clearly render science impossible. Even, therefore, if such hypercriticism had a valid basis of apparently adverse fact whereon to stand, I should feel myself justified in neglecting it on à priori grounds; but the only basis on which such hypercriticism can rest is, not the knowledge of any adverse facts, but the ignorance of certain facts which we must either conclude to be facts or else conclude that science can have no ultimate datum whereon to rest. In the foregoing essays, therefore, I have not scrupled to maintain that the ultimate datum of science is destructive of teleology as a scientific argument for Theism; because, unless we deny the possibility of any such ultimate datum, and so land ourselves in hopeless scepticism, we must conclude that there can be no datum more ultimate than this—Permanent Existence; and this is just the datum which we have seen to be destructive of teleology as a scientific argument for Theism.

It may be well to point out that from this ultimate datum of science—or rather, let us say, of experience—there follows a deductive explanation of the law of causation. For this law, when stripped of all the metaphysical corruptions with which it has been so cumbersomely clothed, simply means that a given collocation of antecedents unconditionally produces a certain consequent. But this fact, otherwise stated, amounts to nothing more than a re-statement of the ultimate datum of experience—the fact that energy is indestructible. For if this latter fact be granted, it is obvious that the so-called law of causation follows as a deductive necessity—or rather, as I have said, that this law becomes but another way of expressing the same fact. This is obvious if we reflect that the only means we have of ascertaining that energy is not destructible, is by observing that similar antecedents do invariably determine similar consequents. It is as a vast induction from all those particular cases of sequence-changes which collectively we call causation that we conclude energy to be indestructible. And, obversely, having concluded energy to be indestructible, we can plainly see that in any particular cases of its manifestation in sequence-phenomena, the unconditional resemblance between effects due to similar causes which is formulated by the law of causation is merely the direct expression of the fact which we had previously concluded. It seems to me, therefore, that the old-standing question concerning the nature of causation ought now properly to be considered as obsolete. Doubtless there will long remain a sort of hereditary tendency in metaphysical minds to look upon cause-connection as "a mysterious tie" between antecedent and consequent; but henceforth there is no need for scientific minds to regard this "tie" as "mysterious" in any other sense than the existence of energy is "mysterious." To state the law of causation is merely to state the fact that energy is indestructible.

And from this there also arises at once the explanation and the justification of our belief in the uniformity of nature. If energy is, in its relation to us, ubiquitous and persistent, it clearly follows that in all its manifestations which collectively we call nature, similar preceding manifestations must always determine similar succeeding manifestations; for otherwise the energy concerned would require on one or on both of the occasions, either to have become augmented by creation, or dissipated by annihilation. Thus our belief in the uniformity of nature, as in the validity of the law of causation, is merely an expression of our belief in the ubiquitous and indestructible character of energy.

Such being the case, we may fairly conclude that all these old-standing "mysteries" are now merged in the one mystery of existence. And deeper than this it is manifestly impossible that they can be merged; for it is manifestly impossible that Existence in the abstract can ever admit of what we call explanation. Hence we can clearly see that, in a scientific sense, there must always remain a final mystery of things. But although we can thus see that, from the very meaning of what we call explanation, it follows that at the base of all our explanations there must lie a great Inexplicable, I think that the mystery of Existence in the abstract may be rendered less appalling if we reflect that, as opposed to Existence, there is only one logical alternative—Non-existence. Supposing, then, our physical explanations to have reached their highest limits by resolving all modes of Existence into one mode—force, matter, life, and mind, being shown but different manifestations of the same Infinite Existence—the final mystery of things would then become resolved into the simple question, Why is there Existence?—Why is there not Nothing?

Let us then first ask, What is "Nothing"? Is it a mere word, which presents no meaning as corresponding to any objective reality, or has the word a meaning notwithstanding its being an inconceivable one? Or, otherwise phrased, is Nothing possible or impossible? Now, although in ordinary conversation it is generally taken for granted that Nothing is possible, there is certainly no more ground for this supposition than there is for its converse—viz., that Nothing is merely a word which signifies the negation of possibility. For analysis will show that the choice between these two counter-suppositions can only be made in the presence of knowledge which is necessarily absent—the knowledge whether the universe of Existence is finite or infinite. If the universe as a whole is finite, the word Nothing would stand as a symbol to denote an unthinkable blank of which a finite universe is the content. And forasmuch as Something and Nothing would then become actual, as distinguished from nominal correlatives, we could have no guarantee that, in an absolute or transcendental sense, it may not be possible, although it is inconceivable, for Something to become Nothing or Nothing Something. Hence, if Existence is finite, No-existence becomes possible; and the doctrine of the indestructibility of Existence becomes, for aught that we can tell, of a merely relative signification. But, on the other hand, if Existence is infinite, No-existence becomes impossible; and the doctrine of the indestructibility of Existence becomes, in a logical sense, of an absolute signification. For it is manifest that if the universe of Existence is without end in space and time, the possibility of No-existence is of necessity excluded, and the word "Nothing" thus becomes a mere negation of possibility.[^[47]]

Thus, if it be conceded that the universe as a whole is infinite both in space and time, the concession amounts to an abolition of the final mystery of things. For all that we mean by a mystery is something that requires an explanation, and the whole of the final mystery of things is therefore embodied in the question, "Why is there Existence?—Why is there not Nothing?" But if the universe of Existence be conceded infinite, this question is sufficiently met by the answer, "Because Existence is, and Nothing is not." If it is retorted, But this is no real answer; I reply, It is as real as the question. For to ask, Why is there Existence? is, upon the supposition which has been conceded, equivalent to asking, Why is the possible possible? And if such questions cannot be answered, it is scarcely right to say that on this account they embody a mystery; because the questions are really not rational questions, and therefore the fact of their not admitting of any rational answer cannot be held to show that the questions embody any rational mystery. That there is a rational mystery, in the sense of there being something which can never be explained, I do not dispute; all I assert is, that this mystery is inexplicable, only because there is nothing to explain; the mystery being ultimate, to ask for an explanation of that which, being ultimate, requires no explanation, is irrational. Or, to state the case in another way, if it is asked, Why is there not Nothing? it is a sufficient answer, on supposition of the universe being infinite, to say, Because Nothing is nothing; it is merely a word which presents no meaning, and which, so far as anything can be conceived to the contrary, never can present any meaning.

The above discussion has proceeded on the supposition of Existence being infinite; but practically the same result would follow on the counter-supposition of Existence being finite. For although in this case, as we have seen, Non-entity would still be included within the range of possibility, it would still be no more conceivable as such than is Entity; and hence the question, Why is there not Nothing? would still be irrational, seeing that, even if the possibility which the question supposes were realised, it would in no wise tend to explain the mystery of Something. And even if it could, the final mystery would not be thus excluded; it would merely be transferred from the mystery of Existence to the mystery of Non-existence. Thus under every conceivable supposition we arrive at the same termination—viz., that in the last resort there must be a final mystery, which, as forming the basis of all possible explanations, cannot itself receive any explanation, and which therefore is really not, in any proper sense of the term, a mystery at all. It is merely a fact which itself requires no explanation, because it is a fact than which none can be more ultimate. So that even if we suppose this ultimate fact to be an Intelligent Being, it is clearly impossible that he should be able to explain his own existence, since the possibility of any such explanation would imply that his existence could not be ultimate. In the sense, therefore, of not admitting of any explanation, his existence would require to be a mystery to himself, rendering it impossible for him to state anything further with regard to it than this—"I am that I am."

I do not doubt that this way of looking at the subject will be deemed unsatisfactory at first sight, because it seems to be, as it were, a merely logical way of cheating our intelligence out of an intuitively felt justification for its own curiosity in this matter. But the fault really lies in this intuitive feeling of justification not being itself justifiable. For this particular question, it will be observed, differs from all other possible questions with which the mind has to deal. All other questions being questions concerning manifestations of existence presupposed as existing, it is perfectly legitimate to seek for an explanation of one series of manifestations in another—i.e., to refer a less known group to a group better known. But the case is manifestly quite otherwise when, having merged one group of manifestations into another group, and this into another for an indefinite number of stages, we suddenly make a leap to the last possible stage and ask, "Into what group are we to merge the basis of all our previous groups, and of all groups which can possibly be formed in the future? How are we to classify that which contains all possible classes? Where are we to look for an explanation of Existence?" When thus clearly stated, the question, is, as I have said, manifestly irrational; but the point with which I am now concerned is this—When in plain reason the question is seen to be irrational, why in intuitive sentiment should it not be felt to be so? The answer, I think, is, that the interrogative faculty being usually occupied with questions which admit of rational answers, we acquire a sort of intellectual habit of presupposing every wherefore to have a therefore, and thus, when eventually we arrive at the last of all possible wherefores, which itself supplies the basis of all possible therefores, we fail at first to recognise the exceptional character of our position. We fail at first to perceive that, from the very nature of this particular case, our wherefore is deprived of the rational meaning which it had in all the previous cases, where the possibility of a corresponding therefore was presupposed. And failing fully to perceive this truth, our organised habit of expecting an answer to our question asserts itself, and we experience the same sense of intellectual unrest in the presence of this wholly meaningless and absurd question, as we experience in the presence of questions significant and rational.