Faith and Science – Part II

With God’s help

The Physico-Theological Argument: Certainty and Plausibility

Introduction: In Praise of Physico-Theology

In the previous column I described in general terms the meaning of the concept of faith and its place on the axis between the emotional-experiential and the intellectual. I presented the position according to which faith in God is a factual claim. I concluded with Kant’s threefold classification of the proofs for the existence of God: ontological, cosmological, and physico-theological. In order to move a little further toward comparisons between faith and science, and perhaps also toward the stormy conflicts between them, I would like to focus here on one of those three types, the physico-theological argument.

Let me say at the outset that I personally think this is a very plausible argument (even if, as we shall see below, it is not necessary, nor is it scientific), but my purpose here is not only to persuade the reader that it is more reasonable to believe in God than to hold an atheistic position, but primarily to sketch, through this discussion, a picture of the polemics and the complex relations between faith and science.

What Is the Physico-Theological Argument?

The physico-theological argument is based on the assumption that complex or designed things do not come into being on their own. In the formulation of the nineteenth-century clergyman Paley, which atheists are so fond of: when we see a watch lying on the ground, we do not assume that this watch came into being by itself through some natural process; rather, it is self-evident to us that there is a watchmaker who designed and made it. The same is true of our world, which is far more complex than a watch, and therefore it is plausible that someone made it. Another formulation was proposed by the renowned astrophysicist Fred Hoyle, who argued that the probability of the accidental emergence of life is lower than the probability that a tornado sweeping over a junkyard would assemble, from the parts scattered there, a complete Boeing airplane. Again, his claim is that life is far more complex than a Boeing airplane, and therefore it stands to reason that it did not come into being through a random and blind process. We are compelled to conclude that there is someone who created it.

In discussions of God and evolution, many refer to Hoyle’s argument by the unflattering (though very self-assured) label, ‘Hoyle’s mistake.’ Later I shall try to explain where and why they themselves are mistaken, and why the late Hoyle was entirely correct.

Why the Physico-Theological Argument?

My focus on this argument has four reasons: a. it is highly intuitive. b. it is very common (probably because of its intuitiveness). c. as I mentioned in the previous column, only this type of argument begins with empirical observations, and therefore it is precisely this one that will enable us to compare inferences of this sort with scientific inferences. d. the variety of objections to this argument will enable us to sharpen even further the fundamental distinctions regarding the relation between faith and science.

Objections to the Physico-Theological Argument

Let me add that the physico-theological argument is discussed quite extensively in the philosophical and polemical literature, and here I can do no more than sketch the outlines of this issue. One can object to such an argument on various philosophical-logical grounds and claim that it is invalid. No less common is the objection that this is not a scientific argument.

Before I begin surveying the various objections, I would like to address a few preliminary remarks. This is in order to clarify the nature of the physico-theological argument itself.

I cannot refrain from a comment about the nature of the discussion. Emotional responses to arguments of this kind (see the comments on the first column) cause people to jump ahead and pull out various objections to the argument at a stage when I have not yet begun to address them. Do not worry, I intend to get to them. I therefore suggest leaving the arguments until the end, and reading and judging the claims one by one, in order. At the end of the process, each person will be able to decide on his overall position.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster

One of the first questions that always arises when the physico-theological argument is presented is: why not prove in this way the existence of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or any other being? Why God specifically? And for that matter, why should there not be four gods rather than only one? Alternatively, why not assume that he is not infinite but merely possesses very great powers (this is part of Kant’s own objection to this argument)?

This is not an objection at all, but a misunderstanding of the physico-theological argument. One may call this entity the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or any other name we choose. One could even announce a prize for whoever proposes the most attractive name. But all this has nothing to do with the physico-theological argument itself. It claims only the following: there is some entity that created and/or governs the world, and nothing more. It does not say what it is called, or whether it is one entity, and certainly not that it expects us to put on tefillin (phylacteries), honor parents, or even that it revealed itself to anyone in this world (whether at Mount Sinai or on the waters of the Sea of Galilee). It does not even say that this entity acts rationally, or not. At most, there are some minimal constraints on its powers (it must be capable of creating a world and governing it).

Who Created God?

This is another common question, and it too stems from a misunderstanding of the argument. The question is directed differently at two types of proofs: a. The cosmological proof assumes that everything has a cause, or some person or thing that created it (according to the principle of sufficient reason). Now the objector asks: but God too is a thing, and according to the principle of sufficient reason there must also be someone who created Him. We are thus dragged into an infinite regress. b. The physico-theological argument, by contrast, assumes that for every complex or designed thing in the world there is someone who designed, created, and governs it. If so, our shrewd objector again claims, that same assumption ought to apply to God. In order to formulate the objection in these terms, we need one more assumption: God is no less complex than the world He created (see the discussion of this in my book God Plays Dice). The objector can now claim: the assumption should be applied to Him as well. So who created or governs Him? Once again, the regress appears.

The problem with this objection lies in the question of regress. That question is precisely what underlies the argument, and it certainly does not generate an attack on it. Philosophers tend to think that an infinite regress cannot constitute an explanation (or: a sufficient reason) for anything. It is like that Greek physicist who explains his cosmology to his spellbound audience: "The world stands on a giant turtle," he says enthusiastically. At that moment a woman in the audience raises her hand and asks: "And what is the turtle standing on?" The physicist answers without hesitation: "On another turtle." And when she keeps asking: "What is the new turtle standing on?" he answers impatiently: "Don’t you understand? It’s turtles all the way down!"

This is precisely the point of the physico-theological argument. If we indeed do not accept an infinite chain as an explanation, then how can we ever have an explanation at all? The claim is not directed against one explanation rather than another. Even if the scientific information in our possession is incomplete, the claim does not arise from a lacuna in scientific information. Even if we were someday to complete the entire scientific project, and all the relevant information and laws were in our hands, the question would still arise: what is the cause of the first cause? Or: who created the first entity in the chain?

The only way to stop this infinite regress is to assume the existence of a first link in the chain whose existence does not require a sufficient reason. An entity that is not subject to our experience, and therefore there is no obstacle to assuming of it that it is "its own cause," or, in more modern terminology, a "necessary existent." If we do not assume the existence of a necessary entity at the outset, we will never be able to escape the regress and arrive at an explanation.

The expression "arrive at an explanation," which I have just used, may be misleading. I am not speaking here about our ability to arrive at an explanation. My claim is about reality itself: if in reality itself there is no such primary link, then there is no explanation for the existence of the world (and not merely that we cannot attain such an explanation).

And perhaps the laws of nature themselves can be such a link in the chain? I will address that later. Here I will only say, somewhat superficially, that if the laws of nature are indeed such entities, then they are God, and the physico-theological argument has proved their existence. In the previous section I already pointed out that I am not entering into the question of the identity or the name of the being whose existence this argument proves, but only into the very fact that such a being exists.

Begging the Question

The final preliminary remark that I would like to clear out of the way is the question of begging the question. The physico-theological argument assumes that every complex thing has a creator. But, our determined objector claims, this is nothing but begging the question. If we did not make this assumption, we would not have to reach the conclusion that God exists.

This claim expresses a profound misunderstanding of the nature of logic. An argument is guilty of begging the question when the conclusion it seeks to reach already appears in its premises. For example, in yeshivas it is customary to offer a proof that every Jew should wear a hat. It goes roughly like this: it is written, And Abraham went ("And Abraham went"; ibid.). A Jew like him certainly did not go about without a hat. And every Jew must walk in the ways of our patriarch Abraham. Therefore, if Abraham went with a hat, then every Jew should go with a hat. QED. In this argument, the conclusion itself is one of the implicit premises. When we say that a Jew like him certainly did not go about without a hat, we have in effect implicitly assumed that every Jew should wear a hat. Therefore this is begging the question.

For comparison, let us now consider the most hackneyed logical argument in the world: all human beings are mortal, Socrates is a human being, and therefore Socrates is mortal. This argument is necessary. Where does our certainty about it really come from? Simply from the fact that its conclusion contains no information that was not already latent in the premises. It tells us nothing new, and therefore it is certain. The conclusion that Socrates is mortal is already hidden within the premise that all human beings are mortal.

One of the characteristics of a valid logical argument is that its conclusion is contained in its premises. This is what is called in philosophy "the emptiness of the analytic" (my book Two Carts and a Hot-Air Balloon is devoted to this point and its implications). If so, in that sense every logical argument begs the question. Is there really no difference between this argument and the proof about Abraham and the hat?

The difference lies solely in the degree of complexity of the inference. If a complex inference is required in order to extract the conclusion from the premises (for example, a combination of several premises), that will not be considered begging the question. When the conclusion itself is contained as one of the premises (without any need for combination, as in the case of Abraham and the hat), that is begging the question.

Now I ask: is the conclusion that God exists found among the premises of the physico-theological argument? At least in the sense that matters to us, definitely not. True, if every complex thing has a cause, then the world as a whole also has a cause. But that characterizes the argument about Socrates as well, along with every other logical argument. Does that disqualify the argument? Certainly not. It only means that this is a logical argument.

Let us now return to our discussion. At the foundation of the physico-theological argument there truly lies the principle of sufficient reason, namely that every complex thing has a cause. This assumption does indeed include within it, in the logical sense, the claim that the world has a cause. But we have seen that this is true of every logical argument. Is there any argument that is not based on premises? Certainly not. Is there any valid logical argument that is based on premises, yet whose conclusion is not contained in them? Certainly not. If it were not somehow present within them, the argument would not be valid. So at most there is here an accusation against the physico-theological reasoning for being a logical argument. We shall address that accusation from a slightly different angle in the next column.

What remains for the objector to claim is that the premise of the principle of sufficient reason is unacceptable to him. Any logical argument can be attacked in this way. But this premise is very plausible, and it seems to me that in any other context almost everyone accepts it. There must be some special reason for us to make an exception to this principle. In any event, it is true that the physico-theological argument appeals only to those who accept this premise.

In the next column I shall begin discussing the objections to the physico-theological argument, and their significance for the relation between faith and science.