Faith and Science – Part 3

With God's help

On Certainty and Rationality: Mysticism, Science, and Logic

The Principle of Sufficient Reason

The last column ended with a discussion of the claim that the physico-theological argument assumes what it seeks to prove. I showed there that every valid logical argument assumes what it seeks to prove, and therefore the only remaining question is whether we agree with its premises. In other words, the question is whether we accept the principle of sufficient reason, namely the assumption that everything must have a cause (a reason, or a factor that brought it about), or not.

We have seen that an atheist must choose between adopting an infinite regress as a sufficient reason, and maintaining the position that not everything must have a cause—in other words, believing (!) that there are things that occur or exist without a cause.

I have already noted that an infinite regress is not a rational sufficient reason. Here I will add that the principle of causality is one of the cornerstones of science and of our thinking. All of science is based on the assumption that if we observe something, it probably has a cause, and this is the scientific motivation to seek it. On the other hand, even in the scientific context, as Hume already established, this assumption has no empirical basis. It is a foundational assumption of rational thought, and therefore it is puzzling that one who advocates such a position accuses the believer in God of irrationality.

The Physico-Theological Argument Is Not Certain

In the world of logic, arguments are divided into valid and invalid ones. Valid arguments are arguments whose conclusion follows necessarily from their premises; the others are invalid arguments. Therefore, one who is accustomed to logical thinking examines arguments in terms of validity and invalidity.

Many object to the physico-theological argument on the grounds that it is not logically necessary, that is, that it is an invalid argument (this is already implicit in the Kantian challenge). The fact that the world around us is complex and appears designed does not necessarily mean that it has a designer and maker.

First, I would note that this objection is the opposite of the previous one. If in the previous column we dealt with the accusation that the physico-theological argument assumes what it seeks to prove, and showed that this means it is a valid logical argument, here the argument is charged with the opposite accusation: that it is not valid. Let us examine this claim a bit.

The validity of the physico-theological argument depends on how it is presented. It can be formulated in two ways:

Formulation A: The world around us is complex, sophisticated, and coordinated, and therefore probably has a maker/creator.

This is of course not a valid argument, since it has one premise (that the world is complex, etc.), and the conclusion that this world has a creator does not follow from it necessarily. This is the formulation that is accused, rightly, of invalidity.

Formulation B: The world is complex, etc., and nothing complex exists without a maker; from this it follows that our world has a maker/creator.

This is of course a fully valid argument, and it is the one that is accused, wrongly, of assuming what it seeks to prove.

These two formulations are merely two different angles from which to view the dispute. Bottom line, it is clear that the conclusion is not necessary, since its premises (that is, the principle of sufficient reason) are not necessary. Perhaps indeed not everything has a cause, or a sufficient reason. On the other hand, I mentioned that this is a foundational assumption of rational thought. Therefore the physico-theological argument is indeed not necessary, but one who opposes it is still thinking non-rationally.

A Look at Certainty: Logic and Science

It is important to understand that lack of certainty does not undermine the physico-theological argument. Every factual claim, and certainly every factual generalization, is not certain. Therefore every scientific law is exposed to the same attack, for it too is not certain. Even committed empiricists who maintain the certainty of direct observations will agree that the generalizations based on them are not certain. The inductive inference that takes us from the premises to the conclusion is never certain.

In the first column I pointed out that faith in God is a claim of fact. This position denies me the option (so very convenient) of arguing in favor of faith on the basis of emotions, mystical experiences, or various religious ecstasies, which are supposed to give me certainty 'beyond reason.' If so, faith must be examined by the tools with which claims of fact are handled. The other side of the coin is that faith also suffers from all the limitations of factual claims, and therefore it truly is not certain.

A valid logical argument links a conclusion to premises. The derivation of the conclusion from the premises is certain, and this is a property of logic and mathematics. But usually the premises in themselves, and therefore the conclusions as well, are not certain. Certainty exists only with respect to derivation, and never with respect to any particular factual claim (at least when it is not the result of direct observation).

One who is willing to accept only certain claims will remain a thoroughgoing skeptic. He will be unable to accept even the laws of science. Even one who compromises and is willing to accept directly observed facts will have to reject all the laws of science out of hand. If so, the conclusion of the physico-theological argument occupies the same logical status as any scientific generalization. As Kant himself already wrote, the physico-theological argument is based on observational facts and derives from them an abstract theoretical conclusion, exactly like science. Of course, I do not mean to argue that faith is a scientific claim, as I will explain later.

God Is Not an Explanation

I will present this common argument in a formulation taken from an article by Eliya Leibowitz (see the appendix to my book God Plays Dice):

The main weakness of the idea of intelligent design lies in the fact that it cannot be regarded as any sort of explanation of the phenomenon it purports to elucidate. The central argument underlying it may be presented as follows: no reasonable person would think that the marvelous paintings that Michelangelo painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel came into being as a result of random processes, without intention and without intelligence. The same is true – of the F-16 aircraft. All the more so, such an explanation is required for biological systems in the world, whose complexity is vastly greater.

However, this inference is based on an absurd a fortiori argument. The assumption that an intelligent being designed the F-16 does indeed constitute a satisfactory explanation for the existence of this complex system, because we know of the existence of aeronautical engineers independently of our acquaintance with the aircraft itself. The thought that an intelligent human hand painted the Sistine Chapel explains the paintings only because we possess prior knowledge of the existence of beings capable of planning and executing such paintings.

With respect to the natural world and the universe, we have no prior knowledge of the existence of an intelligence capable of designing it. Inferring from the existence of the complex and wondrous world to the reality of an intelligent designer is not an explanation of the phenomenon, but a psychological consequence of it.

The Problem of Explaining by Means of the Unknown

At first glance his claim is correct. How can one relate to an argument that proposes unfamiliar beings as the cause of familiar phenomena as an "explanation"? When we want to explain something we do not understand, we try to account for it in terms of things we already know. Here, however, we account for the known (the world) in terms of the unknown (God).

First, I would note that we are not looking for explanations. The physico-theological claim derives from the facts the conclusion that there is an intelligent factor in the background. Even if there were no explanation here of reality, this is still a conclusion that arises from it.

However, Leibowitz's more fundamental mistake lies in his failure to distinguish between two types of explanation. An explanation in an everyday context (and sometimes also in a scientific context) is indeed an explanation in terms of the known. When we want to understand why a plane crashed, we look for some malfunction in its systems. If there was a crack in the wing, that is an explanation for the crash, since the not-yet-understood phenomenon (the plane's fall) is explained by means of a familiar phenomenon (the laws of nature). The same is true of an explanation of the tides in terms of gravitational force.

By contrast, when Newton first explained the tides, he did not yet know the force of gravity. He required a kind of explanation that reveals a new scientific law, and such an explanation, by definition, explains the known in terms of the unknown. The philosopher of science Carl Hempel describes the construction of a scientific theory in the deductive-nomological model, according to which a scientific explanation of a phenomenon contains a general law from which it can be derived by deductive means. This is precisely explaining in terms of the unknown, and it is the lifeblood of science.

When we explain the fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by saying that someone painted it, this is explaining in terms of the known. We know that there are people with the ability to paint, and therefore we succeed in accounting for the phenomenon before us by means of a familiar law. But if we knew of no painters at all, what should we have done? Should we have assumed that these paintings came into being by themselves? Certainly not. In such a case we would assume that there is some factor unknown to us that painted them. This is an explanation that explains the phenomenon in terms of the unknown.

Explanations in terms of the known characterize a situation in which the inference adds no new knowledge. In the terms of Thomas Kuhn's philosophy of science, this is a state of 'normal science,' in which the existing paradigm rules, and it succeeds in providing explanations for all the relevant phenomena. By contrast, at the stage where the existing paradigm fails, we look for a new paradigm (a scientific revolution, in Kuhn's terms). In such a situation, only explanations in terms of the unknown can succeed. We seek a new paradigm that will explain things with respect to which the existing paradigm has failed. That is precisely how science advances, from the known to the unknown. The question whether the atheistic paradigm has indeed failed will be discussed later in the series.

Comparison to a Scientific Explanation

The physico-theological argument is structured as follows:

Premise A: The world is complex.

Premise B: None of the factors known to me can create such a world.

Premise C: A complex world does not come into being by itself.

Conclusion: There is probably some other factor, unknown to me, that created it. Let us call it "God".

A parallel argument regarding gravitational force (when it was not yet known) is structured as follows:

Premise A: I see before me phenomena such as tides, or objects falling to the earth.

Premise B: None of the forces or factors known to me can produce these phenomena.

Premise C: Physical phenomena must have a cause (they do not happen by themselves).

Conclusion: There is probably some factor not yet known to me that produces these phenomena. Let us call it "gravity".

In Leibowitz's view, the second argument is indeed an explanation and the first is not. But he is mistaken. The logical structure of the physico-theological argument meets the same logical standards as a scientific theory. It too proceeds from the known (the world) to the unknown (God). I repeat once again, lest there be any doubt, I am not claiming here that faith in God is a scientific theory.

Between Rationality and Rationalism

Many say that they are not willing to accept metaphysical explanations in the style of faith in God, and they prefer to say that they do not understand. In their view, such a metaphysical explanation is throwing sand in one's eyes, or saying 'I do not understand' in other words. This is the mirror image of the claim about explaining in terms of the unknown, and I will therefore answer it similarly. My claim is that such an approach is rationalistic but not rational.

In the yeshiva where I studied there was a student who fell ill with jaundice. After about half a year of intermittent hospitalization, they brought him a 'sorcerer' who placed pigeons on his navel. They died immediately, and lo and behold, after a few days he returned to the yeshiva healthy. When I told my parents about this, they mocked the mysticism of yeshiva boys and strongly advised me not to abandon rationality. And indeed, to this day their recommendation is a guiding light for me, except that in this case they were mistaken.

It is important to distinguish between rationality and rationalism. A rational person should accept claims that have a reasonable factual basis, even if he does not understand them theoretically. If I am convinced that sensible people who are not liars saw the phenomenon with their own eyes, it is incumbent upon me to accept their claim; afterward I will look for an explanation (why the pigeons die, and how, if at all, they cure jaundice). By contrast, the rationalist is unwilling to accept facts that do not fit his paradigm. This is metaphysics, he says, or explaining in terms of the unknown. He is unwilling to accept metaphysical explanations even where they are called for, despite having no other explanation. We have already seen above that for the sake of 'rationality' he is even prepared to believe in events and entities without a cause and without sufficient reason.

If Newton or Einstein had been such rationalists, instead of rational, we would never have discovered new scientific worlds. We would always demand explanations in terms of the known, and persist in the existing paradigm without any willingness to depart from it. Such conservatism and rigidity of thought are usually attributed to religious thinking, but it turns out that they appear no less, and perhaps more, in the atheist's camp.

Interim Summary

Thus far we have seen three lines of similarity between faith and scientific theory: 1. In the first column we saw that both deal with factual propositions (that were not directly observed). 2. In the second column and the present one we saw that for this very reason, both are not certain. 3. And now we have added that both are built on explanatory moves of the kind that explain the known in terms of the unknown. In the next column I will explain why, despite the similarity, faith in God is not a scientific claim. In the column after that, with God's help, we will finally arrive at evolution.