ANCIENT AND MODERN.
In the preceding chapters we have, without saying it in so many words,
been emphasizing the modern as against the ancient point of view. The
distinction may not at first glance appear to be of great moment, and
yet reflection will prove it to be of vital significance. It expresses,
in a sentence, the essence of the distinction between the Freethinker
and the religionist. Objectively, the world in which we are living is
the same as that in which our ancestors lived. The same stars that
looked down upon them look down upon us. Natural forces affected them as
they affect us. Even the play of human passion and desire was the same
with them as with us. Hunger and thirst, love and hatred, cowardice and
courage, generosity and greed operate now as always. The world remains
the same in all its essential features; what alters is our conception of
it--in other words, the point of view.
The question thus resolves itself into one of interpretation.
Freethinker and religionist are each living in the same world, they are
each fed with the same foods and killed with the same poisons. The same
feelings move both and the same problems face both. Their differences
are constituted by the canon of interpretation applied. It is on this
issue that the conflict between religion and science arises. For
religion is not, as some have argued, something that is supplementary or
complementary to science, nor does it deal with matters on which
science is incompetent to express an opinion. Religion and science face
each other as rival interpretations of the same set of facts, precisely
as the Copernican and the Ptolemaic systems once faced each other as
rival interpretations of astronomical phenomena. If the one is true the
other is false. You may reject the religious or the scientific
explanation of phenomena, but you cannot logically accept both. As Dr.
Johnson said, "Two contradictory ideas may inhere in the same mind, but
they cannot both be correct."
Now while it is true that in order to understand the present we must
know the past, and that because the present is a product of the past, it
is also true that a condition of understanding is to interpret the past
by the present. In ordinary affairs this is not questioned. When
geologists set out to explain the causes of changes in the earth's
surface, they utilize the present-day knowledge of existing forces, and
by prolonging their action backward explain the features of the period
they are studying. When historians seek to explain the conduct of, say
Henry the Eighth, they take their knowledge of the motives animating
existing human nature, and by placing that in a sixteenth century
setting manage to present us with a picture of the period. So, again,
when the thirteenth century monkish historian gravely informs us that a
particular epidemic was due to the anger of God against the wickedness
of the people, we put that interpretation on one side and use our own
knowledge to find in defective social and sanitary conditions the cause
of what occurred. Illustrations to the same end may be found in every
direction. It is, indeed, not something that one may accept or reject as
one may take or leave a political theory, it is an indispensible
condition of rational thinking on any subject whatsoever.
Accepted everywhere else, it is in connection with religion that one
finds this principle, not openly challenged, for there are degrees of
absurdity to which even the most ardent religionist dare not go, but it
is quietly set on one side and a method adopted which is its practical
negation. Either the procedure is inverted and the present is
interpreted by the past, as when it is assumed that because God did
certain things in the past therefore he will continue to do the same
things in the present, or it is assumed that the past was unlike the
present, and, therefore, the same method of interpretation cannot be
applied to both cases. Both plans have the effect of landing us, if not
in lunacy, at least well on the way to it.
It is indispensible to the religionist to ignore the principle above
laid down. For if it is admitted that human nature is always and
everywhere the same, and that natural forces always and everywhere act
in the same manner, religious beliefs are brought to the test of their
conformity with present day knowledge of things and all claim to
objective validity must be abandoned. Yet the principle is quite clear.
The claim of the prophets of old to be inspired must be tested by what
we know of the conditions of "inspiration" to-day, and not by what
unenlightened people thought of its nature centuries ago. Whether the
story of the Virgin Birth is credible or not must be settled by an
appeal to what we know of the nature of animal procreation, and not by
whether our faith urges us to accept the statement as true. To act
otherwise is to raise an altogether false issue, the question of
evidence is argued when what is really at issue is that of credibility.
It is not at all a matter of whether there is evidence enough to
establish the reality of a particular recorded event, but whether our
actual knowledge of natural happenings is not enough for us to rule it
out as objectively untrue, and to describe the conditions which led to
its being accepted as true.
Let us take as an illustration of this the general question of miracles.
The _Oxford Dictionary_ defines a miracle as "A marvellous event
occurring within human experience which cannot have been brought about
by human power or by the operation of any natural agency, and must,
therefore, be ascribed to the special intervention of the deity or some
supernatural being." That is a good enough definition, and is certainly
what people have had in mind when they have professed a belief in
miracles. A miracle must be something marvellous, that is, it must be
unusual, and it must not be even conceivably explainable in terms of the
operation of natural forces. If it is admitted that what is claimed as a
miracle might be explained as the result of natural forces provided our
knowledge was extensive enough and exact enough, it is confessed that
miracle and ignorance are convertible terms. And while that may be true
enough as a matter of fact, it would never suit the religious case to
admit it in so many words.
Nor would it make the case any better to argue that the alleged miracle
has been brought about by some superior being with a much greater
knowledge of nature than man possesses, but which the latter may one day
acquire. That is placing a miracle on the same level as a performance
given by a clever conjuror, which puzzles the onlooker because he lacks
the technical knowledge requisite to understand the methods employed. A
miracle to be a miracle must not be in accordance with natural laws,
known or unknown, it must contravene them or suspend their operation.
On the other hand, the demand made by some critics of the miraculous,
namely, that the alleged miracle shall be performed under test
conditions, is absurd, and shows that they have not grasped the
essential point at issue. The believer's reply to such a demand is plain
and obvious. He says, a miracle is by its nature a rare event, it is
performed under special circumstances to serve a special purpose. Where,
then, is the reason in asking that this miracle shall be re-performed in
order to convince certain people that it has already occurred? To
arrange for the performance of a miracle is an absurdity. For it to
become common is to destroy both its character as a miracle and the
justification for its existence. A miracle must carry its own evidence
or it fails of its purpose and ceases to be a miracle at all. Discussion
on these lines ends, at best, in a stalemate.
It is just as wide of the mark to discuss miracles as though it were a
question of evidence. What possible evidence could there be, for
example, that Jesus fed five thousand people with a few loaves and
fishes, and had basketfuls left at the end of the repast? Suppose it
were possible to produce the sworn testimony of the five thousand
themselves that they had been so fed. Would that produce conviction?
Would it do any more than prove that they believed the food had been so
expanded or multiplied that it was enough for them all? It would be
convincing, perhaps, as proof of an act of belief. But would it prove
any more than that? Would it prove that these five thousand were not the
victims of some act of deception or of some delusion? A belief in a
miracle, whether the belief dates from two thousand years since or from
last week, proves only--belief. And the testimony of a Salvation Army
convert as to the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is as good,
as evidence, as though we had the sworn testimony of the twelve
apostles, with that of the grave-diggers thrown in.
The truth is that the question of belief in the miraculous has nothing
whatever to do with evidence. Miracles are never established by
evidence, nor are they disproved by evidence, that is, so long as we use
the term evidence with any regard to its judicial significance. What
amount or what kind of evidence did the early Christians require to
prove the miracles of Christianity? Or what evidence did our ancestors
require to prove to them that old women flew through the air on
broomsticks, or bewitched cows, or raised storms? Testimony in volumes
was forthcoming, and there is not the slightest reason for doubting its
genuineness. But what amount or kind of evidence was required to
establish the belief? Was it evidence to which anyone to-day would pay
the slightest regard? The slightest study of the available records is
enough to show that the question of evidence had nothing whatever to do
with the production of the belief.
And, on the other hand, how many people have given up the belief in
miracles as a result of a careful study of the evidence against them? I
have never heard of any such case, although once a man disbelieves in
miracles he may be ready enough to produce reasons to justify his
disbelief in them. The man who begins to weigh evidence for and against
miracles has already begun to disbelieve them.
The attitude of children in relation to the belief in fairies may well
be taken to illustrate the attitude of the adult mind in face of the
miraculous. No evidence is produced to induce the belief in fairies, and
none is ever brought forward to induce them to give it up. At one stage
of life it is there, at another it is gone. It is not reasoned out or
evidenced out, it is simply outgrown. In infancy the child's conception
of life is so inchoate that there is room for all kinds of fantastic
beliefs. In more mature years certain beliefs are automatically ruled
out by the growth of a conception of things which leaves no room for
beliefs that during childhood seemed perfectly reasonable.
Now this is quite on all-fours with the question of miracles. The issue
is essentially one of psychology. Belief or disbelief is here mainly
determined by the psychological medium in which one lives and moves.
Given a psychological medium which is, scientifically, at its lowest,
and the belief in the miraculous flourishes. At the other extreme
miracles languish and decay. Tell a savage that the air is alive with
good and bad spirits and he will readily believe you. Tell it to a man
with a genuine scientific mind and he will laugh at you. Tell a peasant
in some parts of the country that someone is a witch and he will at once
believe it. Tell it to a city dweller and it will provide only occasion
for ridicule. People who accept miracles believe them before they
happen. The expressed belief merely registers the fact. Miracles never
happen to those who do not believe in them; as has been said, they never
occur to a critic. Those who reject miracles do so because their
acceptance would conflict with their whole conception of nature. That is
the sum and substance of the matter.
A further illustration may be offered in the case of the once much
debated question of the authenticity of the books of the New Testament
and the historicity of the figure of Jesus. It appears to have been
assumed that if it could be shown that the books of the New Testament
were not contemporary records the case against the divinity of Jesus was
strengthened. On the other hand it was assumed that if these writings
represented the narratives of contemporaries the case for the truth of
the narratives was practically proven. In reality this was not the vital
issue at all. It would be, of course, interesting if it could be shown
that there once existed an actual personage around whom these stories
gathered, but it would make as little difference to the real question at
issue as the demonstration of the Baconian authorship of _Hamlet_ would
make in the psychological value of the play.
Suppose then it were proven that a person named Jesus actually existed
at a certain date in Judea, and that this person is the Jesus of the New
Testament. Suppose it be further proven, or admitted, that the followers
whom this person gathered around him believed that he was born of a
virgin, performed a number of miracles, was crucified, and then rose
from the dead, and that the New Testament represents their written
memoirs. Suppose all this to be proven or granted, what has been
established? Simply this. That a number of people believed these things
of someone whom they had known. But no Freethinker need seriously
concern himself to disprove this. He may, indeed, take it as the data of
the problem which he sets out to solve. The scientific enquirer is not
really concerned with the New Testament as a narrative of fact any more
than he is concerned with Cotton Mather's _Invisible World Displayed_ as
a narrative of actual fact. What he is concerned with is the frame of
mind to which these stories seemed true, and the social medium which
gave such a frame of mind a vogue. It is not at all a question of
historical evidence, but of historical psychology. It is not a question
of the honesty of the witnesses, but of their ability, not whether they
wished to tell the truth, or intended to tell the truth, but whether
they were in a position to know what the truth was. We have not to
discuss whether these events occurred, such a proposition is an insult
to a civilized intelligence, the matter for discussion is the
conditions that bring such beliefs into existence and the conditions
that perpetuate them.
The development of social life and of education thus shifts the point of
view from the past to the present. To understand the past we do not ask
what was it that people believed concerning the events around them, but
what do we know of the causes which produce beliefs of a certain kind.
Thus, we do not really reject the story of Jesus turning water into wine
because we are without legal evidence that he ever did anything of the
kind, but because, knowing the chemical constituents of both water and
wine we know that such a thing is impossible. It is only possible to an
uninstructed mind to which water and wine differ only in taste or
appearance. We do not reject the story of the demoniacs in the New
Testament because we have no evidence that these men were possessed of
devils, or that Jesus cast them out, but because we have exactly the
same phenomena with us to-day and know that it comes within the province
of the physician and not of the miracle worker. It is not a matter of
evidence whether a man rose from the dead or not, or whether he was born
of a virgin or not, but solely a question of examining these and similar
stories in the light of present day knowledge. The "evidence" offered is
proof only of belief, and no one ever questioned the existence of that.
And if the proof of belief is required there is no need to go back a
couple of thousand years or to consult ancient records. The testimony of
a present day believer, and the account of a revival meeting such as one
may find in any religious newspaper will serve equally well. As is so
often the case, the evidence offered is not merely inadequate, it is
absolutely irrelevant.
Past events must be judged in the light of present knowledge. That is
the golden rule of guidance in judging the world's religious legends.
And that canon is fatal to their pretensions. On the one hand we see in
the life of contemporary savages and in that of semi-civilized peoples
all the conditions and the beliefs that meet us in the Bible and among
the early Christians. And with our wider and more exact knowledge we are
able to take exactly the same phenomena that impressed those of an
earlier generation and explain them without the slightest reference to
supernatural powers or beings. The modern mind is really not looking
round for evidence to disprove the truth of Christian legends. It knows
they are not true. There is no greater need to prove that the miracles
of Christianity never occurred, than there is to prove that an old woman
never raised a storm to wreck one of the kings of England. The issue has
been changed from one of history to one of psychology. It is the present
that of necessity sits in judgment on the past, and it is in the light
of the knowledge of the present that the religions of the past stand
condemned.