Faith and Science – Part 4

With God’s help

Is the physico-theological argument a scientific argument?

Another look at the principle of sufficient reason, or causality

Before I continue, I will turn to a few misunderstandings that arose with respect to the principle of causality, or sufficient reason. We have seen that this is the basis on which the physico-theological argument is built. I will address here only two claims that appeared in thread 1 of the comments on the third column. I already answered them there, and here I will bring only a summary.

Asaf from Haifa argued: "The assumption [=of scientific rationality] is not ‘physical phenomena must have a cause (they do not happen by themselves),’ but rather: ‘systems in nature operate according to certain laws’…".

In my view, Asaf is mistaken in that he conflates two different concepts: the law of gravitation is a mathematical description of physical events. But the gravitational force is an entity that brings those events about. Our cousins the physicists assume not only the correctness of the law of gravitation but also the existence of the gravitational force. They assume this even before they have observed it. This is a further indication that we are dealing with an a priori assumption of rational thought.

Dan from Tel Aviv argued that science does not assume the existence of causes, but at most conjectures their existence and looks for them. But in my view Dan is factually mistaken. I invite readers to conduct an experiment. Tell a scientist engaged in investigating some phenomenon that he is really wasting his time, since these phenomena simply occur on their own, without any cause. According to Dan’s view, the scientist ought to answer: "It is entirely possible that you are right, my dear friend, but let us check and see; perhaps after all, surprisingly enough, we will find some cause." By contrast, I claim that an ordinary scientist will say something along the lines of: "Don’t bother me with your mystical fantasies. Nothing in the world happens without a cause."

It seems to me that this is how rational and scientific thinking proceeds. In the absence of clear evidence in the opposite direction, we assume that things occur because someone or something brings them about. Aside from esoteric cases in quantum theory (where too it is unclear whether there really is no cause), the fact is that we always attribute events and things to causes.

Moreover, as I briefly mentioned in the previous column, we do not find the causes; we automatically assume their existence (for every connection that appears causal to us can be interpreted, as Hume suggested, as no more than temporal succession). We see this as a causal connection because of the a priori assumption of our rational thinking, that ordinarily things do not occur without a cause. I will remind you again that I am not speaking here about certainty, but about probability.

Interim summary

In the course of our discussion thus far, we have recognized the similarity between belief in God as a conclusion of the physico-theological argument and a scientific law. In both cases, we are dealing with factual propositions derived from explanations by positing the unknown, and therefore they are not certain. Yet despite the similarity, belief in God is not a scientific claim. I will now try to explain why, and afterward I will discuss whether that matters.

Positivism: an objection from scientific status

A common objection to the physico-theological reasoning claims that the conclusion that there is a God who created and governs the world is not a scientific claim. Despite the lines of similarity sketched above, I agree with this completely. But let us examine the reasons offered for it:

• First, says the objector, this is not the result of empirical observation. But here, of course, the question immediately arises: what, then, does he consider a result of observation? I already mentioned that Kant himself noted that the physico-theological argument is based on observations of the world (which show its complexity and coordination).
• Perhaps the objector means to ask how we move from observations of the world to our metaphysical conclusion? But here too there is no difference at all between the two contexts, for we have already seen that the physico-theological inference, like any inference that discovers a new scientific theory, is an explanation by positing the unknown. That is the only meaning known to me of drawing conclusions from observations.

To be sure, in the background there is the problem of induction, as presented by David Hume: for any set of facts there may be infinitely many possible generalizations (and perhaps there is no generalization at all? See the discussion above regarding Dan’s claim). If so, what justifies us in thinking that precisely the generalization that appears to us the simplest is the correct one?

But this difficulty exists with respect to scientific generalization as well, and therefore it does not undermine the physico-theological argument. As I said, my goal here is to show that within the framework of scientific and rational thought, it is precisely the conclusion that there is a God that is called for. Someone who rejects the rational framework is not our concern here.

• Another version of this objection is the positivist claim, which points out that the conclusion of the physico-theological argument contains metaphysical concepts that are not properly defined. Such an objection can be understood in two ways:

1. This is a use of concepts that lack real content. Resorting to God is nothing but an admission that I have no explanation or understanding. We already dealt with this in the previous column, so I will only remind the reader here that the conclusion of the physico-theological argument is that there is some factor that created the world and determined the laws of nature that govern it. The argument says nothing whatsoever about that factor except that it exists and that this is what it did.

Such a claim certainly has meaning, and I do not see any vagueness in it. In any case, no more vagueness than there is in what mathematics calls a ‘non-constructive existence theorem,’ that is, a theorem that establishes that a certain equation has a solution (without indicating it). The conclusion of the physico-theological argument is likewise an assertion of existence without explicit identification. True, the domain with which it deals is metaphysics, that is, what lies beyond physics. But anyone who is not stuck in logical positivism and the analytic philosophy of the previous century understands that engagement with metaphysics and vagueness are not synonymous.

2. The problem of falsifiability. The philosopher of science Karl Popper defined a criterion for the scientific status of a theory which, in a simplistic and very imprecise formulation (but one sufficient for our purposes), says: a theory is scientific only if it provides predictions that can be subjected to experimental testing (I am not even demanding actual falsification).

A claim that does not identify the factors whose existence it points to makes empirical examination of it very difficult. A claim that deals with what lies beyond physics certainly cannot be subjected to empirical physical testing. I completely agree with this claim, for I know of no predictions of belief in God that can be subjected to empirical testing.

A further insight

We have reached the conclusion that despite the similarity in the mode of inference between the physico-theological argument and scientific induction, belief in God is not a scientific claim. We can now describe the picture that has emerged thus far as follows: although the physico-theological inference follows a logical pattern like that of scientific generalization, and although its conclusion is a factual claim (not a certain one), it has another conspicuous deficiency that prevents it from being considered science: it does not offer a prediction that can be subjected to empirical testing.

A note on the celestial teapot

It is worth briefly mentioning here an argument in favor of atheism put forward by Bertrand Russell. Many quote it, for it has a very persuasive and rational flavor. Think of a situation in which a person appears before us and informs us that there is a small transparent teapot orbiting the planet Jupiter, and because of its size and transparency it cannot be observed in any way. Would it be correct to say that since we know nothing about this teapot, our position regarding it should be doubtful? Russell argues, rightly, that a rational person should not think so. We have no reason at all to accept even this possibility, and therefore it is reasonable to reject it out of hand.

If so, Russell continues, the claim that there is a God, who is inaccessible to empirical-scientific tools because of His abstract nature, is a similar claim. With respect to it as well, it is not correct to maintain even an agnostic (skeptical) position; rather, it should be rejected out of hand, and one should hold a resolute atheism.

This is an argument of which at least some uses are problematic. The reason for skepticism regarding the teapot is that we have no indication (independent of his testimony) of its existence, and to the best of our assessment the speaker himself also has no better information. With respect to such a teapot, I too would be an atheist. But with respect to belief in God, the situation is different. There we have the physico-theological argument, which grounds the hypothesis of His existence, or at least rules out its absurdity. If someone were now to come and claim that God exists (for example, he would claim to have met Him at Mount Sinai), we could not reject this out of hand. This is already a hint of the road ahead: from the philosophical God to the religious God, but that vision is still for the future.

One must not confuse here two different levels of discussion. Even if someone is not convinced by the physico-theological argument, at most he can use the teapot argument as a supplement: if you were not convinced, you ought to be an atheist (and not settle for agnosticism). But the teapot is in no way an argument that stands on its own. We have seen that if the physico-theological argument is sound, then the analogy to the teapot has no significance whatsoever for our discussion. Therefore, the teapot argument does not undermine the physico-theological argument in any way. The relevant discussion is conducted solely around the question of whether the physico-theological argument is reasonable. The teapot is nothing but an insignificant nuance in the theological discussion.

The meaning of all this: between scientific reasoning and scientism

Our conclusion, then, is that belief in God is indeed not a scientific claim, since it does not offer predictions that can be subjected to empirical testing. Does this undermine its validity, or its reasonableness? Is it correct to say that claims that cannot be subjected to empirical testing are meaningless? We have already seen above that the answer is no. Is it correct that it is unreasonable to use them, or to believe them? To the best of my understanding, if the physico-theological inference is reasonable, the fact that its conclusion is not scientific is irrelevant to the discussion.

When I see tracks in the sand, I assume that someone was there who made them. That conclusion is not scientific, because I have no way to subject it to an empirical test (how would I repeat this experiment?). Claims about the past are generally claims that are very difficult to subject to empirical testing. Does that mean that I should doubt the conclusion that someone left those tracks in the sand? Should I think that they were created by themselves?

It is important to understand that the alternative that says there was no such person (which of course also cannot be subjected to empirical testing) is far less reasonable. Why? Because of the principle of sufficient reason, or causality. Those tracks were caused by something, even if I cannot point to it or describe it. And even if I do not know any creature that leaves tracks like these.

The positivist claims brought above are based on an approach that can be called ‘scientism,’ that is, seeing science as the be-all and end-all, that is, as an exclusive criterion of truth. I am among those who think that science is an excellent tool, and that if it is practiced properly it is fitting and right to rely on it. And yet, if after logical examination I arrive at the conclusion that some non-observational claim persuades me (like the claim about the tracks in the sand), I adopt it.

Those who hold the ‘scientistic’ position tend to reject such claims simply because they cannot be subjected to empirical testing. But trust in science does not mean that one must reject everything that is not scientific. I am certainly in favor of scientificity, but I oppose the religion of ‘scientism.’ I am almost repeating here the distinction between rationality and rationalism from the previous column.

The atheist church

One expression of ‘scientism’ is turning science into a kind of church, in which a deep mystical spirit blows and a tremor of holiness is felt. Its god is the Flying Spaghetti Monster (and before it, Vonnegut’s Bokonon from Cat’s Cradle), its believers are endowed with a fanaticism that would not shame the American Bible Belt (one can get an impression of this from a light skim through the stormy comments on these columns), and its priests deliver their sermons beneath every leafy tree.

These priests are several scientists whose every utterance is regarded by the devout faithful as the words of the living God. Quotations from them are regarded by believers as a substitute for arguments, as though they were holy scripture. Any quotation from Stephen Hawking or Richard Dawkins—both apparently fairly gifted scientists but rather poor philosophers—even if it contains nonsense, is regarded as a crushing argument. This is true whether they are speaking in the scientific field in which they are expert, or whether they resort to philosophical considerations that only brush against the scientific domains, if at all. They themselves, and even more so their devout believers, usually do not even notice their hasty passage from science to philosophy. An example of this phenomenon will be discussed in the next column, when I address the objection from evolution.

I will conclude by saying that I do not intend here to argue anything against science, or against scientists. My remarks are directed toward a certain group of scientists and their followers (the fools), whose dominance in public discourse is far greater than their real weight. These people see science as a kind of religion, and believers in God as heretics. They see science as their private domain, and if—heaven forbid—a believing person (in God) is caught walking its paths, woe to him and woe to his soul ("What is he doing in ynet, Science? Send him immediately to Judaism!").

In the next column we will arrive, with God’s help, at the objection from evolution.