Facts and fancies in modern science / Studies of the relations of science to prevalent speculations and religious belief

by Sir John William Dawson

But the thinking "I" dwells in the midst of what we term external objects. In a certain sense it treats the parts of its own bodily organism as if they were things external to it, speaking of "my hand," "my head," as if they were its property. But there are things practically infinite beyond the organism itself. We call them objects or things, but they are only appearances; and we know only their relations to ourselves and to each other. Their essence, if they have any, is inscrutable. We say that the appearances indicate matter and energy, but what these are essentially we know not. We reduce matter to atoms, but it is impossible for us to have any conception of an atom or of the supposed ether, whether itself in some sense atomic or not, including such atoms. Our attempts to form rational conceptions of atoms resolve themselves into complex conjectures as to vortices of ethers and the like, of which no one pretends to have any distinct mental picture; yet on this basis of the incomprehensible rests all our physical science, the first truths in which are really matters of pure faith in the existence of that which we cannot understand. Yet all men would scoff at the agnostic who on this account should express unbelief in physical science.

Let us observe here, further, that since the mysterious and inscrutable "I" is surrounded with an equally mysterious and inscrutable universe, and since the ego and the external world are linked together by indissoluble relations, we are introduced to certain alternatives as to origins. Either the universe or "nature" is a mere phantom conjured up by the ego, or the ego is a product of the universe, or both are the result of some equally mysterious power beyond us and the material world. Neither of these suppositions is absurd or unthinkable; and, whichever of them we adopt, we are again introduced to what may be termed a religion as well as a philosophy. On one view, man becomes a god to himself; on another, nature becomes his god; on the third, a Supreme Being, the Creator of both. All three religions exist in the world in a vast variety of forms, and it is questionable if any human being does not more or less give credence to one or the other.

Scientific men, even when they think proper to call themselves idealists, must reject the first of the above alternatives, since they cannot doubt the objective existence of external nature, and they know that its existence dates from a time anterior to our possible existence as human beings. They may hold to either of the others; and, practically, the minds of students of science are divided between the idea of a spontaneous evolution of all things from self-existent matter and force, and that of the creation of all by a self-existent, omnipotent, and all-wise Creator. From certain points of view, it may be of no consequence whether a scientific man holds one or other of these views. Self-existent force or power, capable of spontaneous inception of change, and of orderly and infallible development according to laws of its own imposition or enactment, which is demanded on the one hypothesis, scarcely differs from the conception of an intelligent Creator demanded on the other, while it is, to say the least, equally incomprehensible. It is, besides, objectionable to science, on the ground that it requires us to assume properties in matter and energy quite at variance with the results of experience. The remarkable alternative presented by Tyndall in his Belfast Address well expresses this: "Either let us open our doors freely to the conception of creative acts, or, abandoning them, let us radically change our notions of matter." The expression "creative acts" here is a loose and not very accurate one for the operation of creative power. The radical change in "our notions of matter" involves an entire reversal of all that science knows of its essential properties. This being understood, the sentence is a fair expression of the dilemma in which the agnostic and the materialist find themselves.

Between the two hypotheses above stated there is, however, one material and vital difference, depending on the nature of man himself. The universe does not consist merely of insensate matter and force and automatic vitality; there happens to be in it the rational and consciously responsible being man. To attribute to him an origin from mere matter and force is not merely to attach to them a fictitious power and significance: it is also to reject the rational probability that the original cause must be at least equal to the effects produced, and to deprive ourselves of all communion and sympathy with nature. Further, wherever the "presence and potency" of human reason resides, there seems no reason to prevent our searching for and finding it in the only way in which we can know anything, in its properties and effects. The dogma of Agnosticism, it is true, refuses to permit this search after God, but it does so with as little reason as any of those self-constituted authorities that demand belief without questioning. Nay, it has the offensive peculiarity that in the very terms in which it issues its prohibition it contradicts itself. The same oracle which asserts that "the power which the universe manifests to us is wholly inscrutable" affirms also that "we must inevitably commit ourselves to the hypothesis of a first cause." Thus we are told that a power which is "manifest" is also "inscrutable," and that we must "commit ourselves" to a belief in a "first cause" which on the hypothesis cannot be known to exist. This may be philosophy of a certain sort, but it certainly should not claim kinship with science.

Perhaps it may be well here to place in comparison with each other the doctrine of the agnostic philosophy as expounded by Herbert Spencer, and that of Paul of Tarsus—an older, but certainly a not less acute, thinker—and we may refer to their utterances respecting the origin of the universe.

Spencer says: "The verbally intelligent suppositions respecting the origin of the universe are three: (1) It is self-existent; (2) It is self-created; (3) It is created by an external agency." On these it may be remarked that the second is scarcely even "verbally intelligent;" it seems to be a contradiction in terms. The third admits of an important modification, which was manifest to Spinosa if not to Spencer—namely, that the Creator may—nay, must—be not merely "external," but within the universe as well. If there is a God, he must be in the universe as a pervading power, and in every part of it, and must not be shut out from his own work. This mistaken conception of God as building himself out of his own universe and acting on it by external force is both irrational and unscientific, being, for example, quite at variance with the analogy of force and life. Rightly understood, therefore, Spencer's alternatives resolve themselves into two—either the universe is self-existent, or it is the work of a self-existent Creator pervading all things with his power. Of these, Spencer prefers the first. Paul, on the other hand, referring to the mental condition of the civilized heathens of his time, affirms that rationally they could believe only in the hypothesis of creation. He says of God: "His invisible things, even his eternal power and divinity, can be perceived (by the reason), being understood by the things that are made." Let us look at these rival propositions. Is the universe self-existent, or does it show evidence of creative power and divinity?

The doctrine that the universe is self-existent may be understood in different ways. It may mean either an endless succession of such changes as we now see in progress, or an eternity of successive cycles proceeding through the course of geological ages and ever returning into themselves. The first is directly contrary to known facts in the geological history of the earth, and cannot be maintained by any one. The second would imply that the known geological history is merely a part of one great cycle of an endless series, and of which an infinite number have already passed away. It is evident that this infinite succession of cycles is quite as incomprehensible as any other infinite succession of things or events. But, waiving this objection, we have the alternative either that all the successive cycles are exactly alike—which could not be, in accordance with evolution, nor with the analogy of other natural cycles—or there must have been a progression in the successive cycles. But this last supposition would involve an uncaused beginning somewhere, and this of such a character as to determine all the successive cycles and their progress; which would again be contrary to the hypothesis of self-existence. It is useless, however, to follow such questions farther, since it is evident that this hypothesis accounts for nothing and would involve us in absolute confusion.

Let us turn now to Paul's statement. This has the merit, in the first place, of expressing a known fact—namely, that men do infer power and divinity from nature. But is this a mere superstition, or have they reason for it? If the universe be considered as a vast machine exceeding all our powers of calculation in its magnitude and complexity, it seems in the last degree absurd to deny that it presents evidence of "power." Dr. Carpenter, in a recent lecture, illustrates the position of the agnostic in this respect by supposing him to examine the machinery of a great mill, and, having found that this is all set in motion by a huge iron shaft proceeding from a brick wall, to suppose that this shaft is self-acting, and that there is no cause of motion beyond. But when we consider the variety and the intricacy of nature, the unity and the harmony of its parts, and the adaptation of these to an incalculable number of uses, we find something more than power. There is a fitting together of things in a manner not only above our imitation, but above our comprehension. To refer this to mere chance or to innate tendencies or potencies of things we feel to be but an empty form of words; consequently, we are forced to admit superhuman contrivance in nature, or what Paul terms "divinity." Further, since the history of the universe goes back farther than we can calculate, and as we can know nothing beyond the First Cause, we infer that the Power and Divinity which we have ascertained in nature must be "eternal." Again, since the creative power must at some point in past time have spontaneously begun to act, we regard it as a "living" power, which is the term elsewhere used by Paul in expressing the idea of "personality" as held by theologians. Lastly, if everything that we know thus testifies to an eternal power and divinity, to maintain that we can know nothing of this First Cause must be simply nonsense, unless we are content to fall back on absolute nihilism, and hold that we know nothing whatever, either relatively or absolutely; but in this case not only is science dethroned, but reason herself is driven from her seat, and there is nothing left for us to discuss. Paul's idea is thus perfectly clear and consistent, and it is not difficult to see that common sense must accept this doctrine of an Eternal Living Power and Divinity in preference to the hypothesis of Spencer.

So far we have considered the general bearing of agnostic and theistic theories on our relations to nature; but if we are to test these theories fully by scientific considerations, we must look a little more into details. The existences experimentally or inductively known to science may be grouped under three heads—matter, energy, and law; and each of these has an independent testimony to give with reference to its origin and its connection with a higher creative power.

Matter, it is true, occupies a somewhat equivocal place in the agnostic philosophy. According to Spencer, it is "built up or extracted from experiences of force," and it is only by force that it "demonstrates itself to us as existing." This is true; but that which "demonstrates itself to us as existing" must exist, in whatever way the demonstration is made, and Spencer does not, in consequence of the lack of direct evidence, extend his Agnosticism to matter, though he might quite consistently do so. In any case, science postulates the existence of matter. Further, science is obliged to conceive of matter as composed of atoms, and of atoms of different kinds; for atoms differ in weight and in chemical properties, and these differences are to us ultimate, for they cannot be changed. Thus science and practical life are tied down to certain predetermined properties of matter. We may, it is true, in future be able to reduce the number of kinds of matter, by finding that some bodies believed to be simple are really compound; but this does not affect the question in hand. As to the origin of the diverse properties of atoms, only two suppositions seem possible: either in some past period they agreed to differ and to divide themselves into different kinds suitable in quantity and properties to make up the universe, or else matter in its various kinds has been skilfully manufactured by a creative power.