It has been held that the argument from order and adaptation is

essentially different from the design argument. The reason given for

this has been that the design argument is based on the analogy or

supposed analogy between the works of nature and the products of human

art. In this argument, we are told, we infer from the likeness which

certain natural objects bear to artificial objects that there must be

a likeness in their causes. We know, it is said, that only intelligent

beings frame such structures as houses, ships, and watches, and seeing

that there is in the mechanism of the heavens, the circulation of the

blood, and the construction of the eye, arrangements and adjustments

of a similar kind, we conclude that they also must have been framed

by an intelligent being, who must be as much greater than man as the

works of nature are greater than the works of art, for causes are

proportional to their effects. Now this may be the design argument

as some have presented it who had no particular wish to criticise it

severely, and it certainly is the way in which Hume and Kant wished

it to be presented; but it has no claim whatever to be considered the

only proper form of the argument, and is, in fact, a very bad form of

it. It is true that there is an analogy between the works of nature

and the works of art, and that on the strength of this analogy the two

classes of works, and also their causes, may be compared, but not true

that the design argument when correctly stated either rests on such

analogy or implies such comparison. The analogy and comparison may be

drawn into, and, as it were, incorporated with the design argument,

but that is rather as a means of illustration than as a condition of

inference. When we infer from an examination of their construction

that the eye and the ear have been designed by an intelligent being,

we are no more dependent on our knowledge that a watch or a telescope

has been designed by an intelligent being than we are dependent on

our knowledge of the eye and ear being the products of intelligence

when we infer that the watch and the telescope are the products of

intelligence. There is an inference in both cases, and an inference

of precisely the same nature in both cases. It is as direct and

independent when the transition is to God from His works as when to

our fellow-men from their works. We are greatly mistaken if we suppose

that we have an immediate knowledge of the intelligence of the beings

who make watches, houses, and ships; we only know that the beings who

make these things are intelligent because such things could not be made

without intelligence: in a word, we only know our fellow-creatures to

be intelligent beings because they utter and arrange sounds so as to

convey a meaning, execute movements which tend to an end, and construct

machines. We have no more a direct perception or a personal experience

of the intelligence of our fellow-men than we have of the intelligence

of God. The mind which has given origin to the order and adjustments

of the universe is not more absolutely inaccessible to sense and

self-consciousness than the mind which gives origin to the order and

adjustments of a watch. It is therefore impossible that our knowledge

of the former should be dependent on our knowledge of the latter. In

both cases the knowledge is inferential,--in both cases it is dependent

on the immediate consciousness of intelligence in ourselves,--but the

inference is in the former case neither longer nor less legitimate than

in the latter. We deny, then, that there is any truth in the statement

that the design argument rests on the analogy between the works of

nature and the products of art It rests directly on the character

of the works of nature as displaying order and adjustment. It is

essentially identical with the argument which we have expounded.

It is not less objectionable to speak of the argument from order and

adaptation as being an argument from final causes than to speak of it

as being an argument from design, unless the different significations

of final cause be distinguished, and those which are irrelevant and

illegitimate be excluded. For the expression "final cause" has various

significations which are indeed intimately related, yet which cannot

be employed indifferently without leading to utter confusion. These

significations may be distributed into two classes. Each class contains

three significations, and every signification of the first class has

a signification of the second class to correspond to it. In fact,

the significations of the first class are simply so many aspects of

order or adaptation, and those of the second class so many aspects of

design or intention; the former are order and adaptation viewed with

reference to the intrinsic, the extrinsic, and the ultimate ends of

things, and the latter are design and intention viewed with reference

to the same three ends. Final cause sometimes means the intrinsic

end of what is orderly and adjusted, the realisation of the nature

of anything which is considered as a whole, a complex of order and

adjustment. The combined stability and movement of the solar system

is in this sense the final cause of the arrangements by which that

result is secured. Sight is in this sense the final cause of the eye,

because in sight the true nature of the eye manifests itself. Then,

final cause sometimes means not the intrinsic but the extrinsic end of

what is orderly and adjusted; not merely the realisation of the nature

of anything, but its relationship to other things, its adaptations to

their requirements, its uses; not merely the end of an arrangement

regarded as a self-contained or completed whole, but the end or

ends which it serves as a system surrounded by, connected with, and

included in other systems. It is impossible to admit final cause in

the sense of intrinsic end and to deny it in that of extrinsic end;

for the universe is not a mere aggregate of systems placed alongside

of one another, but otherwise unconnected--it is itself a system

composed of an infinity of systems within systems. Nothing in nature

stands alone; nothing lives to itself nor dies to itself. What is a

whole with reference to something smaller than itself, is a part with

reference to something larger than itself. The eye is a whole with

reference to its own cords, lenses, fluids, and membranes, but it is a

part with reference to the body; sight is therefore not more certainly

its end than the uses of sight How can a man admit final cause to be

involved in the relationship between his stomach and bodily life, but

deny it to be involved in the relationship between his stomach and the

vegetable and animal substances with which he satisfies its cravings?

Clearly the distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic ends is a

narrow one, and exists not so much in the nature of things as in our

way of looking at things. We have but to elevate and extend our own

view, and what was before an extrinsic end is thereby changed into an

intrinsic end. Admit, in fact, final cause anywhere, and you must admit

it everywhere; admit anything to have an end, and you must admit all

things to have an end; for the world is a grand and wondrous unity

in which all objects depend on and serve one another, and all forces

contribute to the attainment of a single comprehensive issue. Once

accept the principle of finality, and there is no consistent stopping

short of the conviction of Aristotle, that on it hang the whole heavens

and earth.

It is only when the word final cause is used in one or other of these

two senses that we can with any propriety speak of reasoning from

final causes to the existence of God. And these are just the senses

in which the expression is now least used. Final cause is generally

employed at present to signify design. It means, not the arrangement

of causes and effects into systematic unities, the parts of which have

definite relations to one another and a common issue, or the adaptation

of these unities to support and serve one another, but purpose or

intention in the Divine Mind with respect to such arrangement or

adaptation. This sense of the word is so obviously general enough to

refer both to intrinsic and extrinsic ends that it would be unnecessary

to direct attention to the fact, were it not that we are much more

apt to fall into error regarding extrinsic than intrinsic ends, and

consequently, regarding the intention or purpose which refers to them.

A thing has just one intrinsic end--namely, the single conspicuous

and all-comprehensive function or issue in virtue of which we can

regard it as being a whole or unity, and as possessed of a certain

relative independence or completeness. There is thus comparatively

little possibility of error in determining what the intrinsic end is

in a given instance, and comparatively little danger of presumption

in affirming it to have been the end contemplated by the Divine

Mind. There is no doubt, for example, that the eye is an instrument

constructed in a way calculated to attain the intrinsic end--sight; and

there can be no presumption in affirming that God must have had that

end in view in the construction of the eye. If there be a God, and if

He have had anything to do with the making of the eye, He must have

designed that His creatures should see with their eyes. It is different

with extrinsic ends. A thing has never merely one extrinsic end; it

has always a multitude of extrinsic ends, for it is always related to

a multitude of other things. If we would speak of the extrinsic end

of a thing we must mean thereby the whole of its adaptations to other

things, the entire circle of its external relationships, the sum of

its uses. But men have always shown themselves prone in judging of the

extrinsic ends of things to single out some particular adaptation or

use, or at least a few adaptations or uses, and to ignore or exclude

all others. And especially have they shown themselves prone to judge

of things merely from their relationship and utility to themselves, as

if their happiness was the chief if not sole end of all things. This

is, of course, an utterly erroneous method of judging, and necessarily

leads to ridiculous thoughts about things, and to irreverent thoughts

about God's designs in the creation of things. "It can," as Hegel tells

us, "truly profit neither religion nor science, if, after considering

the vine with reference to the well-known uses which it confers upon

man, we proceed to consider the cork-tree with reference to the corks

which are cut from its bark to serve as stoppers for wine-bottles."

When we affirm, then, that final causes in the sense of intrinsic ends

are in things, we affirm merely that things are systematic unities, the

parts of which are definitely related to one another and co-ordinated

to a common issue; and when we affirm that final causes in the sense

of extrinsic ends are in things, we affirm merely that things are not

isolated and independent systems, but systems definitely related to

other systems, and so adjusted as to be parts or components of higher

systems, and means to issues more comprehensive than their own. We

cannot affirm that final causes in the sense of designs are in things;

they can only exist in a mind. What do we mean when we hold that final

causes in this sense truly are in the Divine Mind, and with reference

equally to intrinsic and extrinsic ends? Merely that such order and

adjustment as may actually be seen in things and between things--seen

with the naked eye it may be, or only to be seen through the telescope

or microscope--or which, if they cannot be seen, yet can by scientific

induction be proved to be in and between things,--that that order and

adjustment which actually exist, were intended or designed by God to

exist. Of course every theist who sees evidences of God's existence in

the harmonies of nature, must necessarily rise to final causes in this

sense from final causes in the other senses which have been indicated;

he must pass from material arrangements to the Divine Intelligence

which he believes to be manifested by them. And there can be no shadow

of presumption in any theist searching for final causes--Divine

designs--in this sense and to this extent. What Descartes and others

have said against doing so, on the ground that it is arrogant for a man

to suppose he can investigate the ends contemplated by the Deity--can

penetrate into the counsels of Divine Wisdom--has manifestly no force

or relevancy, so long as all that is maintained is that the order

which actually exists was meant to exist. The doubt or denial of that

is irreverent. To admit the existence of God, and yet to refuse to

acknowledge that He purposed and planned the adaptations and harmonies

in nature, is surely as presumptuous as it is inconsistent. To assume

that God is ignorant of the constitution and character of the universe,

and has had no share in the contrivance and management of it, is to

degrade Him to the level of the dream-and-dread-begotten gods of

Democritus and Epicurus. Better not to think of God at all, than to

think of Him in such a way.

The final cause of a thing, however, may mean, and with reference

both to adjustment and design, neither its intrinsic nor extrinsic,

but its ultimate end. It may mean, not merely that a thing is and

was intended to be the mechanism or organism which science analyses

and explains, and to stand in the relationships and fulfil the uses

which science traces, but also that it will have, and was intended to

have, a destination in the far future. We may ask, What is the goal

towards which creation moves? What will be the fate of the earth? In

what directions are vegetable and animal life developing? What is the

chief end of man? Whither is history tending? What is the ideal of

truth which science has before it, and which it hopes to realise? of

beauty, which art has before it? of goodness, which virtue has before

it? And although to most if not all of these questions probably no

very definite and certain answer can be given, to deny that they can

in any measure be answered, to pronounce all speculation regarding

ultimate ends as wholly vain, would justly be deemed the expression of

a rash and thoughtless dogmatism. Science claims not only to explain

the past but to foretell the future. The power of prevision possessed

by a science is the best criterion of its rank among the sciences when

rank is determined by certitude. And most significant is the boldness

with which some of the sciences have of late begun to forecast the

future. Thus, with reference to the end of the world, the spirit of

prophecy, which until very recently was almost confined to the most

noted religious visionaries, is now poured largely out upon our most

distinguished physicists. This we regard as a most significant and

hopeful circumstance, and trust that ere long the prophets of science

will be far less discordant and conflicting in their predictions even

of the remotest issues than they must be admitted to be at present.

While speculation as to final causes in the sense of ultimate ends is,

within certain limits, as legitimate as it is natural, its results are

undoubtedly far too meagre and uncertain to allow of our reasoning from

them to the existence or wisdom of God. We must prove that there is a

Divine Intelligence from what we actually perceive in things, and not

from what we can conjecture as to the final destinies of things. In

fact, until we have ascertained that there is a Divine Intelligence,

and in some measure what are the principles on which that Intelligence

proceeds, our chance of reaching truth through speculation as to the

ultimate ends of things is, in all probability, exceedingly small. It

is on no hazardous speculations of this kind that we would rest an

argument for the Divine existence, although questions have been raised

as to the Divine character and government which will, at a later stage

of the discussion, involve us to some extent in the consideration of

ultimate ends.

When final cause is employed to signify design in any reference,

be it to intrinsic, extrinsic, or ultimate ends, I have nothing to

object to Bacon and Descartes's condemnation of it as illegitimate

and unprofitable in science. I know of no science, physical or moral,

in which, while thus understood, it can be of the slightest use as

a principle of scientific discovery. It is as much out of place in

the world of organic as of inorganic nature. It is quite incorrect

to say that although it does not lead to the discovery of new truths

in strictly physical science, it does so in physiology for example,

or in psychology, or in ethics. It is only when it means merely the

inherent order and adjustment of things--not when it means designs

and purposes regarding them--that the search after it can possibly

lead to scientific truth, and, when so understood, it leads to truth

in all sciences alike. It was the suggestive principle in Adams and

Leverrier's discovery of the planet Neptune from certain unexplained

perturbations of the planet Uranus, quite as much as in Harvey's

discovery of the circulation of the blood from the observation of

certain unexplained valves at the outlet of the veins and the rise

of the arteries. It is involved in the very nature of the inductive

process, and is only confirmed and enlarged by the progress of

inductive research. It stands in no opposition to the principle of

efficient causes, and is in no degree disproved by the discovery of

such causes. Assertions to the effect that it has gradually been driven

by the advance of knowledge from the simpler sciences into those which

are complex and difficult,--that it is being expelled even out of

biology and sociology--and that it always draws its confirmation, not

from phenomena which have been explained, but from phenomena which

await explanation,--are often made, but they rest almost exclusively

on the wishes of those who make them. They have no real historical

basis.[29]

[29] See Appendix XXI.

LECTURE VI.

OBJECTIONS TO THE ARGUMENT FROM ORDER EXAMINED.

I.

The universe is a system which comprehends countless subordinate

systems. It is full of combinations of parts which constitute

wholes, and of means which conspire to ends. The natural and obvious

explanation of the order and adjustments which it thus presents is that

they are due to a mind or intelligence. And this is the only rational

explanation of them. Mind can alone account for order and adjustment,

for the co-ordination of parts into a whole, or the adaptation of

means to an end. If we refer them to anything else, the reference is

essentially contrary to reason, essentially irrational. It may seem at

the first superficial glance as if there were a variety of hypotheses

as to the origin of the order we everywhere see around us, all equally

or nearly equally credible; but adequate reflection cannot fail to

convince us that they must be reduced to a single alternative--to two

antagonistic theories. Our only choice is between reason and unreason,

between a sufficient and an insufficient cause, between, we may even

say, a cause and no cause. This will be brought out by an examination

of the various hypotheses which have been suggested by those who are

unwilling to admit that the order of the world originated in mind. They

try their best to suggest some other alternative than that which I have

said is inevitable; but every suggestion they make only raises the

alternative which they would avoid--mind or chance, reason or unreason,

a sufficient explanation or an absurd one. Before proceeding to

establish this, however, it may be necessary to remark on some direct

objections which have been taken to the design argument,--objections

which might be valid, although no explanation of order could be given

or were even attempted.

The inference which the theist requires to draw from the existence of

order in the universe is merely the existence of an intelligence who

produced that order. It follows that it is an unfair objection to his

argument to urge, as has often been urged, that it does not directly

and of itself prove God to be the creator of the universe, but only the

former of it--not the author of matter, but only of the collocations of

matter. This objection, which men even like Hume and Kant and J. S.

Mill, have thought worth employing, is simply that the argument does

not prove more than it professes to prove. It does not pretend to make

all other reasoning for the Divine existence superfluous. It is no

condition of its validity that it should stand alone; that it should

contribute nothing to other arguments and receive nothing from them.

The objection is thus entirely irrelevant. It may be a wise caution

to those who would trust exclusively to it, and neglect or depreciate

other arguments. It is no objection to its legitimacy.

It is remarkable, too, that those who have urged this objection

have never felt that before employing it they were bound to satisfy

themselves and to prove to others that order is a mere surface or

superficial thing--outside of matter, superimposed on it. If order

be something inherently and intrinsically in matter--be of its very

essence--belong to what is ultimate in it; if matter and its form be

inseparable,--then the author of its order must have been also the

author of itself; and all that this objection shows us is, that those

who have employed it have had mistaken notions about the nature of

matter. Now, as I have already had to indicate, modern science seems

rapidly perfecting the proof of this. The order in the heavens, and in

the most complicated animal organisms, appears to be not more wonderful

than the order in the ultimate atoms of which they are composed. The

balance of evidence is in favour of the view that order extends as far

and penetrates as deep as matter itself does. The human intellect is

daily learning that it is foolish to fancy that there is anywhere in

matter a sphere in which the Divine Wisdom does not manifest itself in

and through order.

There is still another remark to be made on the objection under

consideration. The immediate inference from the order of the universe

is to an intelligent former of the universe, not to a creator. But

this does not preclude the raising of the question, Is it reasonable

to believe the former of the world merely its former? Must not its

former be also its creator? On the contrary, the inference that the

order of the world must be the result of intelligent agency ought

to suggest this question to every serious and reflective mind, and

it should even contribute something to its answer. The order of the

universe must have originated with intelligence. What is implied in

this admission? Clearly that the order of the universe cannot have

originated with matter,--that matter is unintelligent, and cannot

account either for intelligence or the effects of intelligence. But

if so, the intelligence which formed the universe must be an eternal

intelligence. The supposition that matter is eternal must in this case

be supplemented by the admission that mind is eternal. In other words,

the affirmation that the former of the world is merely its former--the

denial that its former is also its creator--means dualism, the belief

in two distinct eternal existences,--an eternal mind and eternal

matter. Whoever is not prepared to accept this hypothesis must abandon

the affirmation and denial from which it necessarily follows. And who

can, after due deliberation, accept it? The law of parsimony of causes

absolutely forbids our assuming, for the explanation of anything, more

causes than are necessary to account for it. It forbids, therefore,

our belief in an eternal matter and an eternal mind, unless we can

show reason for holding that one of them alone is not a sufficient

cause of the universe. Now those who grant the inference from order

to intelligence, themselves admit that matter is not a sufficient

First Cause of the universe as it actually exists. Do they find any

person admitting that mind would be an insufficient First Cause? Do

they themselves see any way of showing its insufficiency? Do they not

even perceive that it would be foolish and hopeless to try to show

that an eternal mind could not create a material universe, and that

all they could show would be, the here quite irrelevant truth, that

the human mind is ignorant of the manner in which this could be done?

If the answers to these questions are what I believe they must be, it

must also be acknowledged that the former of the universe can only be

rationally thought of as also its creator.

Theism; being the Baird Lecture of 1876 · 第 9 / 25 段