In the paper which opens this discussion on "Law and Design in Nature,"
Professor Newcomb announces in a single sentence a proposition, the
truth or falsehood of which, he tells us, is "the sole question
presented for discussion in the present series of papers."
But, as soon as we examine this proposition, we find that it contains
not one sole question, but three. The three are independent of each
other, and do not necessarily stand or fall together. They are these:--
1. "The whole course of Nature, considered as a succession of
phenomena, is conditioned solely by antecedent causes."
2. In the action of these causes, "no regard to consequences is
traceable."
3. And no regard to consequences is "necessary to foresee the
phenomena."
Of these three propositions I admit the truth of the first; deny
the truth of the second; and, for want of space, and because of its
relative unimportance, leave the third unexamined.
The first proposition is so evidently true, and so universally
admitted, that it was hardly worth positing for discussion. It is
merely affirming that every natural phenomenon implies a cause. The
word "antecedent" is ambiguous, but, if it intends logical and not
chronological antecedence, it is unobjectionable. So understood, we are
merely asked if we can accept the law of universal causation; which
I suppose we shall all readily do, since this law is the basis of
theology no less than of science. Without it, we could not prove the
existence of the first cause. Professor Newcomb has divided us into two
conflicting schools, one of theology and the other of science. Taking
my place in the school of theology, I think I may safely assert for
my brethren that on this point there is no conflict, but that we all
admit the truth of the law of universal causation. It will be noticed
that Professor Newcomb has carefully worded his statement, so as not to
confine us to physical causes, nor even to exclude supernatural causes
from without, working into the nexus of natural laws. He does not
say "antecedent physical causes," nor does he say "causes which have
existed from the beginning."
Admitting thus the truth of the first proposition, I must resolutely
deny that of the second; since, by accepting it, I should surrender
the very cause I wish to defend, namely, that we can perceive design
in Nature. Final causes are those which "regard consequences." The
principle of finality is defined by M. Janet (in his recent exhaustive
work, "Les Causes finales") as "the present determined by the future."
One example of the way in which we can trace in Nature "a regard to
consequences" is so excellently stated by this eminent philosopher
that we will introduce it here: "Consider what is implied in the egg
of a bird. In the mystery and night of incubation there comes, by the
combination of an incredible number of causes, a living machine within
the egg. It is absolutely separated from the external world, but every
part is related to some future use. The outward physical world which
the creature is to inhabit is wholly divided by impenetrable veils from
this internal laboratory; but a preëstablished harmony exists between
them. Without, there is light; within, an optical machine adapted to
it. Without, there is sound; within, an acoustic apparatus. Without,
are vegetables and animals; within, organs for their reception and
assimilation. Without, is air; within, lungs with which to breathe it.
Without, is oxygen; within, blood to be oxygenized. Without, is earth;
within, feet are being made to walk on it. Without, is the atmosphere;
within, are wings with which to fly through it. Now imagine a blind
and idiotic workman, alone in a cellar, who simply by moving his limbs
to and fro should be found to have forged a key capable of opening
the most complex lock. If we exclude design, this is what Nature is
supposed to be doing."
That design exists in Nature, and that earthly phenomena actually
depend on final causes as well as on efficient causes, appears from
the industry of man. Man is certainly a part of Nature, and those who
accept evolution must regard him as the highest development resulting
from natural processes. Now, all over the earth, from morning till
evening, men are acting for ends. "Regard to consequences is traceable"
in all their conduct. They are moved by hope and expectation. They
devise plans, and act for a purpose. From the savage hammering his
flint arrowheads, up to a Shakespeare composing "Hamlet," a Columbus
seeking a new way to Asia, or a Paul converting Europe to a Syrian
religion, human industry is a constant proof that a large part of
the course of Nature on this earth is the result of design. And, as
man develops into higher stages, this principle of design rises also
from the simple to the complex, taking ever larger forms. A ship, for
instance, shows throughout the adaptation of means to ends, by which
complex adaptations produce a unity of result.
And that there is no conflict between the action of physical causes
and final causes is demonstrated by the works of man, since they all
result from the harmonious action of both. In studying human works we
ask two questions,--"How?" and "Why?" We ask, "What is it for?" and
"How is it done?" The two lines of inquiry run parallel, and without
conflict. So, in studying the works of Nature, to seek for design does
not obstruct the investigation of causes, and may often aid it. Thus
Harvey is said to have been led to the discovery of the circulation of
the blood by seeking for the use of the valves of the veins and heart.
The human mind is so constituted that, whenever it sees an event,
it is obliged to infer a cause. So, whenever it sees adaptation, it
infers design. It is not necessary to know the end proposed, or who
were the agents. Adaptation itself, implying the use of means, leads us
irresistibly to infer intention. We do not know who built Stonehenge,
or some of the pyramids, or what they were built for; but no one doubts
that they were the result of design. This inference is strengthened
if we see combination toward an end, and preparation made beforehand
for a result which comes afterward. From preparation, combination, and
adaptation, we are led to believe in the presence of human design even
where we did not before know of the presence of human beings. A few
rudely shaped stones, found in a stratum belonging to the Quaternary
period, in which man had before not been believed to exist, changed
that opinion. Those chipped flints showed adaptation; from adaptation
design was inferred; and design implied the presence of man.
Now, we find in Nature, especially in the organization and
instincts of animals, myriads of similar instances of preparation,
combination, and adaptation. Two explanations only of this occurred
to antiquity,--design and chance. Socrates, Plato, and others, were
led by such facts to infer the creation of the world by an intelligent
author--"ille opifex rerum." Democritus, Epicurus, and Lucretius,
ascribed it to the fortuitous concourse of atoms. But modern science
has expelled chance from the universe, and substituted law. Laplace,
observing forty-three instances in the solar system of planets and
their satellites revolving on their axes or moving in their orbits,
from west to east, declared that this could not be a mere coincidence.
Chance, therefore, being set aside, the question takes another form:
"Did the cosmos that we see come by design or by law?"
But does this really change the question? Granting, for example, the
truth of the theory of the development of all forms of life, under the
operation of law, from a primal cell, we must then ask, "Did these
_laws_ come by chance or by design?" It is not possible to evade that
issue. If the universe resulted from non-intelligent forces, those
forces themselves must have existed as the result of chance or of
intelligence. If you put out the eyes, you leave blindness; if you
strike intelligence out of the creative mystery, you leave blind
forces, the result of accident. Whatever is not from intelligence is
from accident. To substitute law for chance is merely removing the
difficulty a little further back; it does not solve it.
To eliminate interventions from the universe is not to remove design.
The most profound theists have denied such interruptions of the course
of Nature. Leibnitz is an illustrious example of this. Janet declares
him to have been the true author of the theory of evolution, by his
"Law of Continuity," of "Insensible Perceptions," and of "Infinitely
Small Increments." Yet he also fully believed in final causes.
Descartes, who objected to some teleological statements, believed that
the Creator imposed laws on chaos by which the world emerged into a
cosmos. We know that existing animals are evolved by a continuous
process from eggs, and existing vegetables by a like process from
seeds. No one ever supposed that there was less of design on this
account in their creation. So, if all existing things came at first by
a like process from a single germ, it would not argue less, but far
more, of design in the universe.
The theory of "natural selection" does not enable us to dispense with
final causes. This theory requires the existence of forces working
according to the law of heredity and the law of variation, together
with a suitable environment. But whence came this arrangement, by
which a law of heredity was combined with a law of variation, and
both made to act in a suitable environment? Here we find again the
three marks of a designing intelligence: preparation, combination,
adaptation. That intelligence which combines and adapts means to ends
is merely remanded to the initial step of the process, instead of being
allowed to act continuously along the whole line of evolution. Even
though you can explain by the action of mechanical forces the whole
development of the solar system and its contents from a nebula, you
have only accumulated all the action of a creative intelligence in the
nebula itself. Because I can explain the mechanical process by which a
watch keeps time, I have not excluded the necessity of a watchmaker.
Because, walking through my neighbor's grounds, I come upon a water-ram
pumping up water by a purely mechanical process, I do not argue that
this mechanism makes the assumption of an inventor superfluous. In
human industry we perceive a power capable of using the blind forces
of Nature for an intelligent end; which prepares beforehand for the
intended result; which combines various conditions suited to produce
it, and so creates order, system, use. But we observe in Nature exactly
similar examples of order, method, and system, resulting from a vast
number of combinations, correlations, and adaptations of natural
forces. Man himself is such a result. He is an animal capable of
activity, happiness, progress. But innumerable causes are combined and
harmonized in his physical frame, each necessary to this end. As the
human intelligence is the only power we know capable of accomplishing
such results, analogy leads us to assume that a similar intelligence
presides over the like combinations of means to ends in Nature. If any
one questions the value of this argument from analogy, let him remember
how entirely we rely upon it in all the business of life. We _know_
only the motives which govern our own actions; but we infer by analogy
that others act from similar motives. Knowing that we ourselves combine
means designed to effect ends, when we see others adapting means to
ends, we assume that they act also with design. Hence we have a right
to extend the argument further and higher.
The result of what I have said is this: The phenomena of the universe
cannot be satisfactorily explained except by the study both of
efficient causes and of final causes. Routine scientists, confining
themselves to the one, and routine theologians, confining themselves
to the other, may suppose them to be in conflict. But men of larger
insight, like Leibnitz, Newton, Descartes, and Bacon, easily see the
harmony between them. Like Hegel they say: "Nature is no less artful
than powerful; it attains its end while it allows all things to act
according to their constitution;" or they declare with Bacon that "the
highest link of Nature's chain is fastened to the foot of Jupiter's
chair." But the belief in final causes does not imply belief in
supernatural intervention, nor of any disturbance in the continuity of
natural processes. It means that Nature is pervaded by an intelligent
presence; that mind is above and around matter; that mechanical laws
are themselves a manifestation of some providing wisdom, and that when
we say Nature we also say God.[23]