HAVE WE A RELIGIOUS SENSE?
In all discussions of theism there is one point that is usually
overlooked. This is that theism is in the nature of a hypothesis. And,
like every hypothesis, its value is proportionate to the extent to which
it offers a satisfactory explanation of the facts with which it
professes to deal. If it can offer no explanation its value is nil. If
its explanation is only partial, its value will be determined by the
degree to which it can claim superiority over any other hypothesis that
is before us. But every hypothesis implies two things. There is a group
of things to be explained, and there is the hypothesis itself that is
offered in explanation. In the harmony of the two, and in the
possibility of verification, lies the only proof of truth that can be
offered.
If this be granted it at once disposes of the plea that a conviction of
the existence of God springs from some special quality of the mind which
enables man to arrive at a conclusion in a manner different from the way
in which conclusions concerning other subjects are reached. Intuition as
a method of discovering truth is pure delusion. All that can be
rationally meant by such a word as intuition is summarised experience.
When we speak of knowing a thing "intuitively," all that we can mean is
that, experience having furnished us with a sufficient guidance, we are
able to reach a conclusion so rapidly that we cannot follow the steps of
the mental process involved. That this is so is seen in the fact that
our intuitions always follow the line of our experience. A stockbroker
may "intuitively" foresee a rise or fall of the market, but his
intuition will fail him when considering the possibilities of a chemical
composition. To say that a man knows a thing by intuition is only one
way of saying that he does not know how he knows it--that is, he is
unable to trace the stages of his own mental operations. And in this
sense intuition is universal. It belongs as much to the cooking of a
dumpling as it does to the belief in deity.
But it is evident that when the theist talks of intuition, what he has
in mind is something very different from this. He is thinking of some
special quality of mind that operates independently of experience,
either racial or individual. And this simply does not exist. In religion
man is never putting into operation qualities of mind different from
those he employs in other directions. Whether we call a state of mind
religious or not is determined, not by the mental processes involved,
but by the object to which it is directed. Hatred and love, anger,
pleasure, awe, curiosity, reverence, even worship, are exactly the same
whether directed towards "God" or towards anything else. Human qualities
are fundamentally identical, and may be expressed in relation to all
sorts of objects.
The attempt to mark religion off from the rest of life, to be approached
by special methods and in a special frame of mind, takes many forms, and
it may be illustrated by the manner in which it is dealt with by
Professor Arthur Thomson. In a little work entitled "An Introduction to
Science," and specially intended for general consumption, he remarks,
as a piece of advice to his readers:--
We would remind ourselves and our readers that the whole subject
should be treated with reverence and sympathy, for it is hardly
possible to exaggerate the august role of religion in human life.
Whatever be our views, we must recognise that just as the great
mathematicians and metaphysicians represent the aristocracy of the
human intellect, so the great religious geniuses represent the
aristocracy of human emotion. And in this connection it is probably
useful to bear in mind that in all discussions about religious
ideas or feelings we should ourselves be in an exalted mood, and
yet "with a compelling sense of our own limitations," and of the
vastness and mysteriousness of the world.
If Professor Thomson had been writing on "Frames of Mind Fatal to
Scientific Investigation" he could hardly have chosen a better
illustration of his thesis. One may safely say that anyone who started
an examination of religion in this spirit, and maintained it throughout
his examination, would perform something little short of a miracle did
he reach a sound conclusion. A feeling of sympathy may pass, but why
"reverence"? Reverence is a very complex state, but it certainly
includes respect and a certain measure of affection. And how is one to
rationally have respect or affection for anything _before_ one has
ascertained that they are deserving of either? Is anyone who happens to
believe that religion is _not_ worthy of reverence to be ruled out as
being unfit to express an opinion? Clearly, on this rule, either we
compel a man to sacrifice his sense of self-respect before we will allow
him to be heard, or we pack the jury with persons who confess to have
reached a decision before they have heard the evidence. It would almost
seem from the expression that while examining religion we should be in
an "exalted mood" that Professor Thomson has in view the last
contingency. For by an exalted mood we can only understand a religious
mood--that is, we must believe in religion before we examine it,
otherwise our examination is profanity. Well, that is just the cry of
the priest in all ages. And while it is sound religion, there is no
question of its being shocking science. Even the mere feeling of
exaltation is not to be encouraged during a scientific investigation.
One can understand Kepler when he had discovered the true laws of
planetary motion, or Newton when he embraced in one magnificent
generalisation the fall of a stone and the revolution of a planet,
experiencing a feeling of exaltation; but exaltation must follow, not
precede, the conclusion. At any rate, there are few scientific teachers
who would encourage such a feeling during investigation.
Leaving for a moment the question of religious geniuses being the
aristocrats of human emotion, we may take the same writer's view of the
limitations of science, thus providing an opening for the intrusion of
religion. This is given in the form of a criticism of the following
well-known passage from Huxley:--
If the fundamental proposition of evolution is true, namely, that
the entire world, animate and inanimate, is the result of the
mutual interaction, according to definite laws, of forces possessed
by the molecules which made up the primitive nebulosity of the
universe; then it is no less certain that the present actual world
reposed potentially in the cosmic vapour, and that an intelligence,
if great enough, could from his knowledge of the properties of the
molecules of that vapour have predicted the state of the fauna in
Great Britain in 1888 with as much certitude as we say what will
happen to the vapour of our breath on a cold day in winter.
Now, if the principle of evolution be accepted, the truth of Huxley's
statement appears to be self-evident. It may be that no intelligence
capable of making such a calculation will ever exist, but the abstract
possibility remains. Professor Thomson calls it "a very strong and
confident statement," which illustrates the need for philosophical
criticism. His criticism of Huxley's statement is based on two grounds.
These are: (1) "No complete physico-chemical description has ever been
given of any distinctively vital activity; and (2) the physical
description of things cannot cover biological phenomena, nor can the
biological description cover mental and moral phenomena." There is, he
says,
The physical order of nature--the inorganic world--where mechanism
reigns supreme. (2) There is the vital order of nature--the world
of organisms--where mechanism proves insufficient. (3) There is the
physical order of nature--the world of mind--where mechanism is
irrelevant. Thus there are three fundamental sciences--Physics,
Biology, and Psychology--each with characteristic questions,
categories and formulae.
Now, however earnestly Huxley's statement calls for criticism, it is
clear to us that nothing useful in that direction is offered by Prof.
Thomson. It is quite plain that the abstract possibility of such a
calculation as that named by Huxley can never be ruled out by science,
since such a conception lies at the root of all scientific thinking.
After all, want of knowledge only proves--want of knowledge; and Sir
Oliver Lodge would warn Prof. Thomson of the extreme danger of resting
an argument on the ignorance of science at any particular time.[4]
I note this statement of Professor Thomson's chiefly because it
illustrates a very common method of dealing with the mechanistic or
non-theistic view of the universe. In this matter Professor Thomson may
claim the companionship of Sir Oliver Lodge, who says, "Materialism is
appropriate to the material world, not as a philosophy, but as a working
creed, as a proximate, an immediate formula for guiding research.
Everything beyond that belongs to another region, and must be reached by
other methods. To explain the psychical in terms of physics and
chemistry is simply impossible.... The extreme school of biologists ...
ought to say, if they were consistent, there is nothing but physics and
chemistry at work anywhere." With both these writers there is the common
assumption that the mechanist assumes there is a physical and chemical
explanation of all phenomena. And the assumption is false. There is a
story of a well-known lecturer on physiology who commenced an address on
the stomach by remarking that that organ had been called this, that, and
the other, but the one thing he wished his students to bear in mind was
that it was a stomach. So the mechanist, while firmly believing that
there is an ascending unity in all natural phenomena, is never silly
enough to deny that living things are alive, or that thinking beings
think.
But unless Professor Thomson does impute this to the mechanist, we quite
fail to see the relevance his assertion that there are three
departments, physics, biology, and psychology, each with its
characteristic questions, categories, and formulae. Of course, there are,
and equally, of course, physical laws will not cover biological facts;
nor will biological laws cover psychological ones. This is not due to
any occult cause, but to the simple fact that as each group of phenomena
has its characteristic features, each set of laws are framed to cover
the phenomena presented by that group. Otherwise there would be no need
of these special laws. It is astonishing how paralysing is the effect of
the theistic obsession on the minds of even scientific men, since it
leads them to ignore what is really a basic consideration in scientific
method.
Perhaps a word or two more on this topic is advisable. If it is
permissible to arrange natural phenomena in a serial order, we may place
them in succession as physical, chemical, biological, and psychological.
But these names represent no more than descriptions of certain features
that are to the group common, otherwise the grouping would be useless
and impossible. And it is part of the business of science to frame
"laws"--descriptions--of phenomena such as will enable us to express
their characteristic features in a brief formula. It is, therefore,
quite true to say that you cannot express vital phenomena in terms of
physics or chemistry. And no materialist who took the trouble to
understand materialism, instead of taking a statement of what it is from
an anti-materialist, ever thought otherwise. _Each specific group of
phenomena can only be covered by laws that belong to that group, and
which were framed for that express purpose._ A psychological fact can no
more be expressed in terms of chemistry than a physical fact can be
expressed in terms of biology. These truths are as plain to the
mechanist as they are to the vitalist. Mental life, the scientific
categories, are real to all; the only question at issue is that of their
origin.
To explain is to make intelligible, and in that sense all scientific
explanation consists in the establishing of equivalents. When we say
that A, B, C are the factors of D, we have asserted D is the equivalent
of A, B, C--plus, of course, all that results from the combination of
the factors. When we say that we have explained the formation of water
by showing it to be the product of H.2.O. we have shown that whether we
say "water" or use the chemical formula we are making identical
statements. If we are working out a problem in dynamics we meet with
exactly the same principle. We must prove that the resultant accounts
for all the forces in operation at the time. Now, all that the mechanist
claims is that it is extremely probable that one day the scientist will
be able to work out the exact physico-chemical conditions that are the
equivalents of biological phenomena, and, in turn, the
physico-chemical-biological conditions that are the equivalents of
psychological phenomena. Very considerable progress has already been
made in this direction, and, as Sir Oliver Lodge says, there are
probably very few scientific men who would deny the likelihood of this
being done.
But this does not deny the existence of differences between these groups
of phenomena; neither does it assert that we can describe the
characteristic features of one group in terms that belong to another
group. Once a group of phenomena, biological, or chemical is there, we
must have special formulae to describe them, otherwise there would be no
need for these divisions. It is admitted that the earth was at one time
destitute of life; it is also admitted that there are forms of life
destitute of those features which we call mind. And, whatever be their
mode of origin, once introduced they must be dealt with in special
terms. Psychological facts must be expressed in terms of psychology,
biological facts in terms of biology, and chemical facts in terms of
chemistry. You may give the chemical and physical equivalent of a
sunset. That is one aspect. You may also give the psychological
explanation of the emotion of man on beholding it. That is another
aspect. But you cannot express the psychological fact in terms of
chemistry because it belongs to quite another category. A psychological
fact, as such, is ultimate. So is a chemical or a biological fact. If by
analysis you reduce the psychological fact to its chemical and
biological equivalents, its character as a psychological fact is
destroyed. That is the product of the synthesis, and to seek in analysis
for what only exists in synthesis, is surely to altogether misunderstand
the spirit of scientific method. The curious thing is that a mere layman
should have to correct men of science on this matter.
We can now return to Prof. Thomson's attempt to claim for religion a
special place in the sphere of emotion. He claims, in the passage
already cited, that "as the great mathematicians and metaphysicians
represent the aristocracy of human intellect so the great religious
geniuses represent the aristocracy of human emotion." There is nothing
new in this claim, neither is there any evidence of its truth.
Coleridge's dictum that the proper antithesis to religion is poetry is
open to serious objection, but there is more to be said for it than may
be said for the antithesis set up by Prof. Thomson. As a matter of fact,
religious geniuses have often pursued their work with as much attention
to scientific precision as was possible, and have prided themselves that
they made no appeal to mere emotion. Justification by emotion has only
been attempted when other means of securing conviction has failed. And
the appeal to emotion has become popular for very obvious reasons. It
enables the ordinary theologian to feel a comfortable superiority over a
Spencer or a Darwin. It enables mediocrities to enjoy the feeling of
being wise without the trouble of acquiring wisdom. It enables inherited
prejudices to rank as reasoned convictions. And, in addition, there is
nothing that cannot be conveniently proved or disproved by such a
method.
In whatever form the distinction is met with it harbours a fallacy.
Intellectual activity is not and cannot be divorced from emotion. There
are states of mind in which feeling predominates, and there are others
in which reason predominates. But all intellectual states involve a
feeling element. The often-made remark that feeling and intellect are
in conflict is true only in the sense that ultimately certain
intellectual states, _plus_ their associated feelings, are in conflict
with other intellectual states plus _their_ associated feelings. To
realise this one need only consider the sheer pleasure that results from
the rapid sweep of the mind through a lengthy chain of reasoning, and
the positive pain that ensues when the terms of a proposition baffles
comprehension. The force of this is admitted by Prof. Thomson in the
remark that man at the limit of his endeavour has fallen back on
religion. Quite so; that is the painful feelings evoked by an
intellectual failure have thrown a certain type of mind back on
religion. In this they have acted like one who flies to a drug for
relief from a pain he lacks the courage to bear. They take a narcotic
when, often enough, the real need is for a stimulant.
In sober truth religion is no more necessarily connected with the
emotions than are other subjects of investigation. Those who have made
the pursuit of "cold scientific truth" their life's work have shown
every whit as much ardour and passion as those who have given their life
to religion. The picture of man sacrificing himself in the cause of
religion is easily matched by a Vesalius haunting the charnel houses of
Europe, and risking the most loathsome diseases in the interests of
scientific research. The abiding passion for truth in a character such
as that of Roger Bacon or Bruno easily matches the enthusiasm of the
missionary monk. The passion and the enthusiasm for science is less
advertised than the passion and the enthusiasm for religion, but it is
quite as real, and certainly not less valuable. The state of mind of
Kepler on discovering the laws of planetary motion was hardly less
ecstatic than that of a religious visionary describing his sense of
"spiritual" communion. Only in the case of the scientist, it is emotion
guided by reason, not reason checked and partly throttled by emotion.
When, therefore, Matthew Arnold defined religion as morality touched
with emotion, he substituted a fallacy for a definition. Primarily
religion is as much a conviction as is the Copernican system of
astronomy. It exists first as an idea; it only exists as an emotion at a
later stage. There is really no such thing as a religious emotion, there
are only emotions connected with religion. Originally all religion is in
the nature of an inference from observed or experienced facts. This
inference may not be of the elaborate kind that we associate with modern
scientific work, but it is there. The inference is an illogical one, but
under the conditions inevitable. And being an inference religion is not
primarily an emotion but a conviction, and it must stand or fall by its
intellectual trustworthiness. It seems, indeed, little less than a
truism to say that unless men first of all _believed_ something about
religion they could never have emotions concerning it. Hope and fear may
colour our convictions, they may prevent the formation of correct
opinions, but they originate in connection with a belief in every case.
And an emotion, if it be a healthful one, must be ultimately capable of
intellectual justification. When this cannot be done, when we have mere
emotion pleaded as a ground for rejecting rational examination, we have
irrationalism driven to its last ditch.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] "The present powerlessness of science to explain or originate life
is a convenient weapon wherewith to fell a pseudo-scientific antagonist
who is dogmatising too loudly out of bounds; but it is not perfectly
secure as a permanent support.... Life in its ultimate elements and on
its material side is such a simple thing, it is but a slight extension
of known chemical and physical forces.... I apprehend that there is not
a biologist but believes (perhaps quite erroneously) that sooner or
later the discovery will be made, and that a cell discharging all the
essential functions of life will be constructed out of inorganic
material." ("Man and the Universe," Chap. I.).