A Candid Examination of Theism
by George John Romanes · English · Gutenberg #19003 · 435,553 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: A Candid Examination of Theism
Author: George John Romanes
Release date: August 7, 2006 [eBook #19003]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CANDID EXAMINATION OF THEISM ***
Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Keith Edkins and
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A
CANDID EXAMINATION
OF
THEISM.
BY
PHYSICUS.
BOSTON:
HOUGHTON, OSGOOD, & COMPANY.
1878.
[_All rights reserved_]
* * * * *
_CANST THOU BY SEARCHING FIND OUT GOD?_
* * * * *
PREFACE.
* * * * *
The following essay was written several years ago; but I have hitherto
refrained from publishing it, lest, after having done so, I should find
that more mature thought had modified the conclusions which the essay sets
forth. Judging, however, that it is now more than ever improbable that I
shall myself be able to detect any errors in my reasoning, I feel that it
is time to present the latter to the contemplation of other minds; and in
doing so, I make this explanation only because I feel it desirable to state
at the outset that the present treatise was written before the publication
of Mr. Mill's treatise on the same subject. It is desirable to make this
statement, first, because in several instances the trains of reasoning in
the two essays are parallel, and next, because in other instances I have
quoted passages from Mr. Mill's essay in connections which would be
scarcely intelligible were it not understood that these passages are
insertions made after the present essay had been completed. I have also
added several supplementary essays which have been written since the main
essay was finished.
It is desirable further to observe, that the only reason why I publish this
edition anonymously is because I feel very strongly that, in matters of the
kind with which the present essay deals, opinions and arguments should be
allowed to produce the exact degree of influence to which as opinions and
arguments they are entitled: they should be permitted to stand upon their
own intrinsic merits alone, and quite beyond the shadow of that unfair
prejudication which cannot but arise so soon as their author's authority,
or absence of authority, becomes known. Notwithstanding this avowal,
however, I fear that many who glance over the following pages will read in
the "Physicus" of the first one a very different motive. There is at the
present time a wonderfully wide-spread sentiment pervading all classes of
society--a sentiment which it would not be easy to define, but the
practical outcome of which is, that to discuss the question of which this
essay treats is, in some way or other, morally wrong. Many, therefore, who
share this sentiment will doubtless attribute my reticence to a puerile
fear on my part to meet it. I can only say that such is not the case.
Although I allude to this sentiment with all respect--believing as I do
that it is an offshoot from the stock which contains all that is best and
greatest in human nature--nevertheless it seems to me impossible to deny
that the sentiment in question is as unreasonable as the frame of mind
which harbours it must be unreasoning. If there is no God, where can be the
harm in our examining the spurious evidence of his existence? If there is a
God, surely our first duty towards him must be to exert to our utmost, in
our attempts to find him, the most noble faculty with which he has endowed
us--as carefully to investigate the evidence which he has seen fit to
furnish of his own existence as we investigate the evidence of inferior
things in his dependent creation. To say that there is one rule or method
for ascertaining truth in the latter case, which it is not legitimate to
apply in the former case, is merely a covert way of saying that the Deity,
if he exists, has not supplied us with rational evidence of his existence.
For my own part, I feel that such an assertion cannot but embody far more
unworthy conceptions of a Personal God than are represented by any amount
of earnest inquiry into whatever evidence of his existence there may be
present; but, neglecting this reflection, if there is a God, it is certain
that reason is the faculty by which he has enabled man to discover truth,
and it is no less certain that the scientific methods have proved
themselves by far the most trustworthy for reason to adopt. To my mind,
therefore, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that, looking to this
undoubted pre-eminence of the scientific methods as ways to truth, whether
or not there is a God, the question as to his existence is both more
morally and more reverently contemplated if we regard it purely as a
problem for methodical analysis to solve, than if we regard it in any other
light. Or, stating the case in other words, I believe that in whatever
degree we intentionally abstain from using in this case what we _know_ to
be the most trustworthy methods of inquiry in other cases, in that degree
are we either unworthily closing our eyes to a dreaded truth, or we are
guilty of the worst among human sins--"Depart from us, for we desire not
the knowledge of thy ways." If it is said that, supposing man to be in a
state of probation, faith, and not reason, must be the instrument of his
trial, I am ready to admit the validity of the remark; but I must also ask
it to be remembered, that unless faith has _some_ basis of reason whereon
to rest, it differs in nothing from superstition; and hence that it is
still our duty to investigate the _rational_ standing of the question
before us by the _scientific_ methods alone. And I may here observe
parenthetically, that the same reasoning applies to all investigations
concerning the reality of a supposed revelation. With such investigations,
however, the present essay has nothing to do, although, I may remark that
if there is any evidence of a Divine Mind discernible in the structure of a
professing revelation, such evidence, in whatever degree present, would be
of the best possible kind for substantiating the hypothesis of Theism.
Such being, then, what I conceive the only reasonable, as well as the most
truly moral, way of regarding the question to be discussed in the following
pages, even if the conclusions yielded by this discussion were more
negative than they are, I should deem it culpable cowardice in me _for this
reason_ to publish anonymously. For even if an inquiry of the present kind
could ever result in a final demonstration of Atheism, there might be much
for its author to regret, but nothing for him to be ashamed of; and, by
parity of reasoning, in whatever degree the result of such an inquiry is
seen to have a tendency to negative the theistic theory, the author should
not be ashamed candidly to acknowledge his conviction as to the degree of
such tendency, provided only that his conviction is an _honest_ one, and
that he is conscious of its having been reached by using his faculties with
the utmost care of which he is capable.
If it is retorted that the question to be dealt with is of so ultimate a
character that even the scientific methods are here untrustworthy, I reply
that they are nevertheless the _best_ methods available, and hence that the
retort is without pertinence: the question is still to be regarded as a
scientific one, although we may perceive that neither an affirmative nor a
negative answer can be given to it with any approach to a full
demonstration. But if the question is thus conceded to be one falling
within the legitimate scope of rational inquiry, it follows that the mere
fact of demonstrative certainty being here antecedently impossible should
not deter us from instituting the inquiry. It is a well-recognised
principle of scientific research, that however difficult or impossible it
may be to _prove_ a given theory true or false, the theory should
nevertheless be tested, so far as it admits of being tested, by the full
rigour of the scientific methods. Where demonstration cannot be hoped for,
it still remains desirable to reduce the question at issue to the last
analysis of which it is capable.
Adopting these principles, therefore, I have endeavoured in the following
analysis to fix the precise standing of the evidence in favour of the
theory of Theism, when the latter is viewed in all the flood of light which
the progress of modern science--physical and speculative--has shed upon it.
And forasmuch as it is impossible that demonstrated truth can ever be shown
untrue, and forasmuch as the demonstrated truths on which the present
examination rests are the most fundamental which it is possible for the
human mind to reach, I do not think it presumptuous to assert what appears
to me a necessary deduction from these facts--namely, that, possible errors
in reasoning apart, the rational position of Theism as here defined must
remain without material modification as long as our intelligence remains
human.
LONDON, 1878.
* * * * *
ANALYSIS.
CHAPTER I.
EXAMINATION OF ILLOGICAL ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF THEISM.
SECT.
1. Introductory.
2. Object of the chapter.
3. The Argument from the Inconceivability of Self-existence.
4. The Argument from the Desirability of there being a God.
5. The Argument from the Presence of Human Aspirations.
6. The Argument from Consciousness.
7. The Argument for a First Cause.
CHAPTER II.
THE ARGUMENT FROM THE EXISTENCE OF THE HUMAN MIND.
8. Introductory.
9. Examination of the Argument, and the independent coincidence of my views
regarding it with those of Mr. Mill.
10. Locke's exposition of the Argument, and a re-enunciation of it in the
form of a Syllogism.
11. The Syllogism defective in that it cannot explain Mind in the abstract.
Mill quoted and answered. This defect in the Syllogism clearly defined.
12. The Syllogism further defective, in that it assumes Intelligence to be
the only possible cause of Intelligence. This assumption amounts to begging
the whole question as to the being of a God. Inconceivability of Matter
thinking no proof that it may not think. Locke himself strangely concedes
this. His fallacies and self-contradictions pointed out in an Appendix.
13. Objector to the Syllogism need not be a Materialist, but assuming that
he is one, he is as much entitled to the hypothesis that Matter thinks as a
Theist is to his hypothesis that it does not.
14. The two hypotheses are thus of exactly equivalent value, save that
while Theism is arbitrary, Materialism has a certain basis of fact to rest
upon. This basis defined in a footnote, where also Professor Clifford's
essay on "Body and Mind" is briefly examined. Difficulty of estimating the
worth of the Argument as to the _most_ conceivable being _most_ likely
true.
15. Locke's comparison between certainty of the Inconceivability Argument
as applied to Theism and to mathematics shown to contain a _virtual_ though
not a _formal_ fallacy.
16. Summary of considerations as to the value of this Argument from
Inconceivability.
17. Introductory to the other Arguments in favour of the conclusion that
only Intelligence can have caused Intelligence.
18. Locke's presentation of the view that the cause must contain all that
is contained in the effects. His statements contradicted. Mill quoted to
show that the analogy of Nature is against the doctrine of higher
perfections never growing out of lower ones.
19. Enunciation of the last of the Arguments in favour of the proposition
that only Intelligence can cause Intelligence. Hamilton quoted to show that
in his philosophy the entire question as to the being of a God hinges upon
that as to whether or not human volitions are caused.
20. Absurdity of the old theory of Free-will. Hamilton erroneously
identified this theory with the fact that we possess a moral sense. His
resulting dilemma.
21. Although Hamilton was wrong in thus identifying genuine fact with
spurious theory, yet his Argument from the fact of our having a moral sense
remains to be considered.
22. The question here is merely as to whether or not the presence of the
moral sense can be explained by natural causes. _A priori_ probability of
the moral sense having been evolved. _A posteriori_ confirmation supplied
by Utilitarianism, &c.
23. Mill's presentation of the Argument a resuscitation of Paley's. His
criticism on Paley shown to be unfair.
24. The real fallacy of Paley's presentation pointed out.
25. The same fallacy pointed out in another way.
26. Paley's typical case quoted and examined, in order to illustrate the
root fallacy of his Argument from Design. Mill's observations upon this
Argument criticised.
27. Result yielded by the present analysis of the Argument from Design. The
Argument shown to be a _petitio principii_.
CHAPTER IV.
THE ARGUMENT FROM GENERAL LAWS.
28. My belief that no competent writer in favour of the Argument from
Design could have written upon it at all, had it not been for his
instinctive appreciation of the much more important Argument from General
Laws. The nature of this Argument stated, and its cogency insisted upon.
29. The rational standing of the Argument from General Laws prior to the
enunciation of the doctrine of the Conservation of Energy. The Rev. Baden
Powell quoted.
30. The nature of General Laws when these are interpreted in terms of the
doctrine of the Conservation of Energy. The word "Law" defined in terms of
this doctrine.
31. The rational standing of the Argument from General Laws subsequent to
the enunciation of the doctrine of the Conservation of Energy.
32. The self-evolution of General Laws, or the objective aspect of the
question as to whether we may infer the presence of Mind in Nature because
Nature admits of being intelligently interrogated.
33. The subjective aspect of this question, according to the data afforded
by evolutionary psychology.
34. Correspondence between products due to human intelligence and products
supposed due to Divine Intelligence, a correspondence which is only
generic. Illustrations drawn from prodigality in Nature. Further
illustrations. Illogical manner in which natural theologians deal with such
difficulties. The generic resemblance contemplated is just what we should
expect to find, if the doctrine of evolutionary psychology be true.
35. The last three sections parenthetical. Necessary nature of the
conclusion which follows from the last five sections.
CHAPTER V.
THE LOGICAL STANDING OF THE QUESTION AS TO THE BEING OF A GOD.
36. Emphatic re-statement of the conclusion reached in the previous
chapter. This conclusion shown to be of merely scientific, and not of
logical conclusiveness. Preparation for considering the question in its
purely logical form.
37. The logic of probability in general explained, and canon of
interpretation enunciated.
38. Application of this canon to the particular case of Theism.
39. Exposition of the logical state of the question.
40. Exposition continued.
41. Result of the exposition; "Suspended Judgment" the only logical
attitude of mind with regard to the question of Theism.
CHAPTER VI.
THE ARGUMENT FROM METAPHYSICAL TELEOLOGY.
42. Statement of the position to which the question of Theism has been
reduced by the foregoing analysis.
43. Distinction between a scientific and a metaphysical teleology.
Statement of the latter in legitimate terms. Criticism of this statement
legitimately made on the side of Atheism as being gratuitous. Impartial
judgment on this criticism.
44. Examination of the question as to whether the metaphysical system of
teleology is really destitute of all rational support. Pleading of a
supposed Theist in support of the system. The principle of correlation of
general laws. The complexity of Nature.
45. Summary of the Theist's pleading, and judgment that it fairly removes
from the hypothesis of metaphysical teleology the charge of the latter
being gratuitous.
46. Examination of the degree of probability that is presented by the
hypothesis of metaphysical teleology, comprising an examination of the
Theistic objection to the scientific train of reasoning on account of its
symbolism, and showing that a no less cogent objection lies against the
metaphysical train of reasoning on account of its embodying the supposition
of unknowable causes. Distinction between "inconceivability" in a formal or
symbolical, and in a material or realisable sense. Reply of a supposed
Atheist to the previous pleading of the supposed Theist. Herbert Spencer
quoted on inconceivability of cosmic evolution as due to Mind.
47. Final judgment on the rational value of a metaphysical system of
teleology. Distinction between "inconceivability" in an absolute and in a
relative sense. Final judgment on the attitude of mind which it is rational
to adopt towards the question of Theism. The desirability and the
rationality of tolerance in this particular case.
CHAPTER VII.
GENERAL SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS.
48. General summary of the whole essay.
49. Concluding remarks.
APPENDIX AND SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAYS.
APPENDIX.
A Critical Exposition of a Fallacy in Locke's use of the Argument against
the possibility of Matter thinking on grounds of its being inconceivable
that it should.
SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAY I.
Examination of Mr. Herbert Spencer's Theistical Argument, and criticism to
show that it is inadequate to sustain the doctrine of "Cosmic Theism" which
Mr. Fiske endeavours to rear upon it.
SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAY II.
A Critical Examination of the Rev. Professor Flint's work on "Theism".
SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAY III.
On the Speculative Standing of Materialism.
SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAY IV.
On the Final Mystery of Things.
* * * * *
THEISM.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
EXAMINATION OF ILLOGICAL ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF THEISM.
§ 1. Few subjects have occupied so much attention among speculative
thinkers as that which relates to the being of God. Notwithstanding,
however, the great amount that has been written on this subject, I am not
aware that any one has successfully endeavoured to approach it, on all its
various sides, from the ground of pure reason alone, and thus to fix, as
nearly as possible, the exact position which, in pure reason, this subject
ought to occupy. Perhaps it will be thought that an exception to this
statement ought to be made in favour of John Stuart Mill's posthumous essay
on Theism; but from my great respect for this author, I should rather be
inclined to regard that essay as a criticism on illogical arguments, than
as a _careful_ or _matured_ attempt to formulate the strictly rational
_status_ of the question in all its bearings. Nevertheless, as this essay
is in some respects the most scientific, just, and cogent, which has yet
appeared on the subject of which it treats, and as anything which came from
the pen of that great and accurate thinker is deserving of the most serious
attention, I shall carefully consider his views throughout the course of
the following pages.
Seeing then that, with this partial exception, no competent writer has
hitherto endeavoured once for all to settle the long-standing question as
to the rational probability of Theism, I cannot but feel that any attempt,
however imperfect, to do this, will be welcome to thinkers of every
school--the more so in view of the fact that the prodigious rapidity which
of late years has marked the advance both of physical and of speculative
science, has afforded highly valuable data for assisting us towards a
reasonable and, I think, a final decision as to the strictly logical
standing of this important matter. However, be my attempt welcome or no, I
feel that it is my obvious duty to publish the results which have been
yielded by an honest and careful analysis.
§ 2. I may most fitly begin this analysis by briefly disposing of such
arguments in favour of Theism as are manifestly erroneous. And I do this
the more willingly because, as these arguments are at the present time most
in vogue, an exposure of their fallacies may perhaps deter our popular
apologists of the future from drawing upon themselves the silent contempt
of every reader whose intellect is not either prejudiced or imbecile.
§ 3. A favourite piece of apologetic juggling is that of first demolishing
Atheism, Pantheism, Materialism, &c., by successively calling upon them to
explain the mystery of self-existence, and then tacitly assuming that the
need of such an explanation is absent in the case of Theism--as though the
attribute in question were more conceivable when posited in a Deity than
when posited elsewhere.
It is, I hope, unnecessary to observe that, so far as the ultimate mystery
of existence is concerned, any and every theory of things is equally
entitled to the inexplicable fact that something is; and that any endeavour
on the part of the votaries of one theory to shift from themselves to the
votaries of another theory the _onus_ of explaining the necessarily
inexplicable, is an instance of irrationality which borders on the
ludicrous.
§ 4. Another argument, or semblance of an argument, is the very prevalent
one, "Our heart requires a God; therefore it is probable that there is a
God:" as though such a subjective necessity, even if made out, could ever
prove an objective existence.[1]
§ 5. If it is said that the theistic aspirations of the human heart, by the
mere fact of their presence, point to the existence of a God as to their
explanatory cause, I answer that the argument would only be valid after the
possibility of any more proximate causes having been in action has been
excluded--else the theistic explanation violates the fundamental rule of
science, the Law of Parcimony, or the law which forbids us to assume the
action of more remote causes where more proximate ones are found sufficient
to explain the effects. Consequently, the validity of the argument now
under consideration is inversely proportional to the number of
possibilities there are of the aspirations in question being due to the
agency of physical causes; and forasmuch as our ignorance of psychological
causation is well-nigh total, the Law of Parcimony forbids us to allow any
determinate degree of logical value to the present argument. In other
words, we must not use the absence of knowledge as equivalent to its
presence--must not argue from our ignorance of psychological possibilities,
as though this ignorance were knowledge of corresponding impossibilities.
The burden of proof thus lies on the side of Theism, and from the nature of
the case this burden cannot be discharged until the science of psychology
shall have been fully perfected. I may add that, for my own part, I cannot
help feeling that, even in the present embryonic condition of this science,
we are not without some indications of the manner in which the aspirations
in question arose; but even were this not so, the above considerations
prove that the argument before us is invalid. If it is retorted that the
fact of these aspirations having had _proximate_ causes to account for
their origin, even if made out, would not negative the inference of these
being due to a Deity as to their _ultimate_ cause; I answer that this is
not to use the argument from the presence of these aspirations; it is
merely to beg the question as to the being of a God.
§ 6. Next, we may consider the argument from consciousness. Many persons
ground their belief in the existence of a Deity upon a real or supposed
necessity of their own subjective thought. I say "real or supposed,"
because, in its bearing upon rational argument, it is of no consequence of
which character the alleged necessity actually is. Even if the necessity of
thought be real, all that the fact entitles the thinker to affirm is, that
it is impossible for _him_, by any effort of thinking, to rid himself of
the persuasion that God exists; he is not entitled to affirm that this
persuasion is necessarily bound up with the constitution of the human mind.
Or, as Mill puts it, "One man cannot by proclaiming with ever so much
confidence that _he_ perceives an object, convince other people that they
see it too.... When no claim is set up to any peculiar gift, but we are
told that all of us are as capable of seeing what he sees, feeling what he
feels, nay, that we actually do so, and when the utmost effort of which we
are capable fails to make us aware of what we are told, we perceive this
supposed universal faculty of intuition is but
'The Dark Lantern of the Spirit
Which none see by but those who bear it.'"
It is thus, I think, abundantly certain that the present argument must,
from its very nature, be powerless as an argument to anyone save its
assertor; as a matter of fact, the alleged necessity of thought is not
universal; it is peculiar to those who employ the argument.
And now, it is but just to go one step further and to question whether the
alleged necessity of thought is, in any case and properly speaking, a
_real_ necessity. Unless those who advance the present argument are the
victims of some mental aberration, it is overwhelmingly improbable that
their minds should differ in a fundamental and important attribute from the
minds of the vast majority of their species. Or, to continue the above
quotation, "They may fairly be asked to consider, whether it is not more
likely that they are mistaken as to the origin of an impression in their
minds, than that others are ignorant of the very existence of an impression
in theirs." No doubt it is true that education and habits of thought may so
stereotype the intellectual faculties, that at last what is conceivable to
one man or generation may not be so to another;[2] but to adduce this
consideration in this place would clearly be but to destroy the argument
from the _intuitive_ necessity of believing in a God.
Lastly, although superfluous, it may be well to point out that even if the
impossibility of conceiving the negation of God were an universal law of
human mind--which it certainly is not--the fact of his existence could not
be thus proved. Doubtless it would be felt to be much more probable than it
now is--as probable, for instance, if not more probable, than is the
existence of an external world;--but still it would not be necessarily
true.
§ 7. The argument from the general consent of mankind is so clearly
fallacious, both as to facts and principles, that I shall pass it over and
proceed at once to the last of the untenable arguments--that, namely, from
the existence of a First Cause. And here I should like to express myself
indebted to Mr. Mill for the following ideas:--"The cause of every change
is a prior change; and such it cannot but be; for if there were no new
antecedent, there would be no new consequent. If the state of facts which
brings the phenomenon into existence, had existed always or for an
indefinite duration, the effect also would have existed always or been
produced an indefinite time ago. It is thus a necessary part of the fact of
causation, within the sphere of experience, that the causes as well as the
effects had a beginning in time, and were themselves caused. It would seem,
therefore, that our experience, instead of furnishing an argument for a
first cause, is repugnant to it; and that the very essence of causation, as
it exists within the limits of our knowledge, is incompatible with a First
Cause."
The rest of Mr. Mill's remarks upon the First Cause argument are tolerably
obvious, and had occurred to me before the publication of his essay. I
shall, however, adhere to his order of presenting them.
"But it is necessary to look more particularly into this matter, and
analyse more closely the nature of the causes of which mankind have
experience. For if it should turn out that though all causes have a
beginning, there is in all of them a permanent element which had no
beginning, this permanent element may with some justice be termed a first
or universal cause, inasmuch as though not sufficient of itself to cause
anything, it enters as a con-cause into all causation."
He then shows that the doctrine of the Conservation of Energy supplies us
with such a datum, and thus the conclusion easily follows--"It would seem,
then, that the only sense in which experience supports, in any shape, the
doctrine of a First Cause, viz., as the primæval and universal element of
all causes, the First Cause can be no other than Force."
Still, however, it may be maintained that "all force is will-force." But
"if there be any truth in the doctrine of Conservation of Force, ... this
doctrine does not change from true to false when it reaches the field of
voluntary agency. The will does not, any more than other agencies, create
Force: granting that it originates motion, it has no means of doing so but
by converting into that particular manifestation, a portion of Force which
already existed in other forms. It is known that the source from which this
portion of Force is derived, is chiefly, or entirely, the force evolved in
the processes of chemical composition and decomposition which constitute
the body of nutrition: the force so liberated becomes a fund upon which
every muscular and every nervous action, as of a train of thought, is a
draft. It is in this sense only that, according to the best lights of
science, volition is an originating cause. Volition, therefore, does not
answer to the idea of a First Cause; since Force must, in every instance,
be assumed as prior to it; and there is not the slightest colour, derived
from experience, for supposing Force itself to have been created by a
volition. As far as anything can be concluded from human experience, Force
has all the attributes of a thing eternal and uncreated....
"All that can be affirmed (even) by the strongest assertion of the Freedom
of the Will, is that volitions are themselves uncaused and are, therefore,
alone fit to be the first or universal cause. But, even assuming volitions
to be uncaused, the properties of matter, so far as experience discloses,
are uncaused also, and have the advantage over any particular volition, in
being, so far as experience can show, eternal. Theism, therefore, in so far
as it rests on the necessity of a First Cause, has no support from
experience."
Such may be taken as a sufficient refutation of the argument that, as human
volition is apparently a cause in nature, and moreover constitutes the
basis of our conception of all causation, therefore all causation is
probably volitional in character. But as this is a favourite argument with
some theists, I shall introduce another quotation from Mr. Mill, which is
taken from a different work.
"Volitions are not known to produce anything directly except nervous
action, for the will influences even the muscles only through the nerves.
Though it were granted, then, that every phenomenon has an efficient and
not merely a phenomenal cause, and that volition, in the case of the
particular phenomena which are known to be produced by it, is that cause;
are we therefore to say with these writers that since we know of no other
efficient cause, and ought not to assume one without evidence, there _is_
no other, and volition is the direct cause of all phenomena? A more
outrageous stretch of inference could hardly be made. Because among the
infinite variety of the phenomena of nature there is one, namely, a
particular mode of action of certain nerves which has for its cause and, as
we are now supposing, for its efficient cause, a state of our mind; and
because this is the only efficient cause of "which we are conscious, being
the only one of which, in the nature of the case, we _can_ be conscious,
since it is the only one which exists within ourselves; does this justify
us in concluding that all other phenomena must have the same kind of
efficient cause with that one eminently special, narrow, and peculiarly
human or animal phenomenon?" It is then shown that a logical parallel to
this mode of inference is that of generalising from the one known instance
of the earth being inhabited, to the conclusion that "every heavenly body
without exception, sun, planet, satellite, comet, fixed star, or nebula, is
inhabited, and must be so from the inherent constitution of things." After
which the passage continues, "It is true there are cases in which, with
acknowledged propriety, we generalise from a single instance to a multitude
of instances. But they must be instances which resemble the one known
instance, and not such as have no circumstance in common with it except
that of being instances.... But the supporters of the volition theory ask
us to infer that volition causes everything, for no other reason except
that it causes one particular thing; although that one phenomenon, far from
being a type of all natural phenomena, is eminently peculiar; its laws
bearing scarcely any resemblance to those of any other phenomenon, whether
of inorganic or of organic nature."[3]
* * * * *
CHAPTER II.
THE ARGUMENT FROM THE EXISTENCE OF THE HUMAN MIND.
§ 8. Leaving now the obviously untenable arguments, we next come to those
which, in my opinion, may properly be termed scientific.
It will be convenient to classify those as three in number; and under one
or other of these heads nearly all the more intelligent advocates of Theism
will be found to range themselves.
§ 9. We have first the argument drawn from the existence of the human mind.
This is an argument which, for at least the last three centuries, and
especially during the present one, has been more relied upon than any other
by philosophical thinkers. It consists in the reflection that the being of
our own subjective intelligence is the most certain fact which our
experience supplies, that this fact demands an adequate cause for its
explanation, and that the only adequate cause of our intelligence must be
some other intelligence. Granting the existence of a conditioned
intelligence (and no one could reasonably suppose his own intelligence to
be otherwise), and the existence of an unconditioned intelligence becomes a
logical necessity, unless we deny either the validity of the principle that
every effect must have an adequate cause, or else that the only adequate
cause of Mind is Mind.
It has been a great satisfaction to me to find that my examination of this
argument--an examination which was undertaken and completed several months
before Mr. Mill's essay appeared--has been minutely corroborated by that of
our great logician. I mention this circumstance here, as on previous
occasions, not for the petty motive of vindicating my own originality, but
because in matters of this kind the accuracy of the reasoning employed, and
therefore the logical validity of the conclusions attained, are guaranteed
in the best possible manner, if the trains of thought have been
independently pursued by different minds.
§ 10. Seeing that, among the advocates of this argument, Locke went so far
as to maintain that by it alone he could render the existence of a Deity as
certain as any mathematical demonstration, it is only fair, preparatory to
our examining this argument, to present it in the words of this great
thinker.
He says:--"There was a time when there was no knowing (_i.e._, conscious)
being, and when knowledge began to be; or else there has been also a
knowing being from all eternity. If it be said, there was a time when no
being had any knowledge, when that eternal being was void of all
understanding, I reply, that then it was impossible there should ever have
been any knowledge: it being as impossible that things wholly void of
knowledge, and operating blindly, and without perception, should produce a
knowing being, as it is impossible that a triangle should make itself three
angles bigger than two right ones. For it is as repugnant to the idea of
senseless matter, that it should put into itself, sense, perception, and
knowledge, as it is repugnant to the idea of a triangle, that it should put
into itself greater angles than two right ones."[4]
Now, although this argument has been more fully elaborated by other
writers, the above presentation contains its whole essence. It will be seen
that it has the great advantage of resting _immediately_ upon the
foundation from which all argument concerning this or any other matter,
must necessarily arise, viz.,--upon the very existence of our argumentative
faculty itself. For the sake of a critical examination, it is desirable to
throw the argument before us into the syllogistic form. It will then stand
thus:--
All known minds are caused by an unknown mind. Our mind is a known mind;
therefore, our mind is caused by an unknown mind.
§ 11. Now the major premiss of this syllogism is inadmissible for two
reasons: in the first place, it is assumed that known mind can only be
caused by unknown mind; and, in the second place, even if this assumption
were granted, it would not explain the existence of Mind as Mind. To take
the last of these objections first, in the words of Mr. Mill, "If the mere
existence of Mind is supposed to require, as a necessary antecedent,
another Mind greater and more powerful, the difficulty is not removed by
going one step back: the creating mind stands as much in need of another
mind to be the source of its existence as the created mind. Be it
remembered that we have no direct knowledge (at least apart from
Revelation) of a mind which is even apparently eternal, as Force and Matter
are: an eternal mind is, as far as the present argument is concerned, a
simple hypothesis to account for the minds which we know to exist. Now it
is essential to an hypothesis that, if admitted, it should at least remove
the difficulty and account for the facts. But it does not account for mind
to refer our mind to a prior mind for its origin. The problem remains
unsolved, nay, rather increased."
Nevertheless, I think that it is open to a Theist to answer, "My object is
not to explain the existence of Mind in the abstract, any more than it is
my object to explain Existence itself in the abstract--to either of which
absurd attempts Mr. Mill's reasoning would be equally applicable;--but I
seek for an explanation of _my own individual finite mind_, which I know to
have had a beginning in time, and which, therefore, in accordance with the
widest and most complete analogy that experience supplies, I believe to
have been _caused_. And if there is no other objection to my believing in
Intelligence as the cause of my intelligence, than that I cannot prove my
own intelligence caused, then I am satisfied to let the matter rest here;
for as every argument must have _some_ basis of assumption to stand upon, I
am well pleased to find that the basis in this case is the most solid which
experience can supply, viz.,--the law of causation. Fully admitting that it
does not account for Mind (in the abstract) to refer one mind to a prior
mind for its origin; yet my hypothesis, if admitted, _does_ account for the
fact that _my mind_ exists; and this is all that my hypothesis is intended
to cover. For to endeavour to _explain_ the existence of an _eternal_ mind,
could only be done by those who do not understand the meaning of these
words."
Now, I think that this reply to Mr. Mill, on the part of a theist, would so
far be legitimate; the theistic hypothesis _does_ supply a provisional
explanation of the existence of known minds, and it is, therefore, an
explanation which, in lieu of a better, a theist may be allowed to retain.
But a theist may not be allowed to confuse this provisional explanation of
his own mind's existence with that of the existence of Mind in the
abstract; he must not be allowed to suppose that, by thus hypothetically
explaining the existence of known minds, he is thereby establishing a
probability in favour of that hypothetical cause, an Unknown Mind. Only if
he has some independent reason to infer that such an Unknown Mind exists,
could such a probability be made out, and his hypothetical explanation of
known mind become of more value than a guess. In other words, although the
theistic hypothesis supplies _a possible_ explanation of known mind, we
have no reason to conclude that it is _the true_ explanation, unless other
reasons can be shown to justify, on independent grounds, the validity of
the theistic hypothesis. Hence it is manifestly absurd to adduce this
explanation as evidence of the hypothesis on which it rests--to argue that
Theism must therefore be true; because we assume it to be so, in order to
explain _known_ mind, as distinguished from _Mind_. If it be answered, We
are justified in assuming Theism true, because we are justified in assuming
that known mind can _only_ have been caused by an unknown mind, and hence
that Mind must somewhere be self-existing, then this is to lead us to the
second objection to the above syllogism.
§ 12. And this second objection is of a most serious nature. "Mind can only
be caused by Mind," and, therefore, Mind must either be uncaused, or caused
by a Mind. What is our warrant for ranking this assertion? Where is the
proof that nothing can have caused a mind except another mind? Answer to
this question there is none. For aught that we can ever know to the
contrary, anything within the whole range of the Possible may be competent
to produce a self-conscious intelligence--and to assume that Mind is so far
an entity _sui generis_, that it must either be self-existing, or derived
from another mind which is self-existing, is merely to beg the whole
question as to the being of a God. In other words, if we can prove that the
order of existence to which Mind belongs, is so essentially different from
that order, or those orders, to which all else belongs, as to render it
_abstractedly impossible_ that the latter can produce the former--if we can
prove this, we have likewise proved the existence of a Deity. But this is
just the point in dispute, and to set out with a bare affirmation of it is
merely to beg the question and to abandon the discussion. Doubtless, by the
mere act of consulting their own consciousness, the fact now in dispute
appears to some persons self-evident. But in matters of such high
abstraction as this, even the evidence of self-evidence must not be relied
upon too implicitly. To the country boor it appears self-evident that wood
is annihilated by combustion; and even to the mind of the greatest
philosophers of antiquity it seemed impossible to doubt that the sun moved
over a stationary earth. Much more, therefore, may our broad distinction
between "cogitative and incogitative being"[5] not be a distinction which
is "legitimated by the conditions of external reality."
Doubtless many will fall back upon the position already indicated, "It is
as repugnant to the idea of senseless matter, that it should put into
itself sense, perception, and knowledge, as it is repugnant to the idea of
a triangle, that it should put into itself greater angles than two right
ones." But, granting this, and also that conscious matter is the sole
alternative, and what follows? Not surely that matter cannot perceive, and
feel, and know, merely because it is repugnant to our idea of it that it
should. Granting that there is no other alternative in the whole
possibility of things, than that matter must be conscious, or that
self-conscious Mind must somewhere be self-existing; and granting that it
is quite "impossible for us to conceive" of consciousness as an attribute
of matter; still surely it would be a prodigious leap to conclude that for
this reason matter cannot possess this attribute. Indeed, Locke himself
elsewhere strangely enough insists that thought may be a property of
matter, if only the Deity chose to unite that attribute with that
substance. Why it should be deemed abstractedly impossible for matter to
think if there is no God, and yet abstractedly possible that it should
think if there is a God, I confess myself quite unable to determine; but I
conceive that it is very important clearly to point out this peculiarity in
Locke's views, for he is a favourite authority with theists, and this
peculiarity amounts to nothing less than a suicide of his entire argument.
The mere circumstance that he assumed the Deity capable of endowing matter
with the faculty of thinking, could not have enabled him to _conceive_ of
matter as thinking, any more than he could _conceive_ of this in the
absence of his assumption. Yet in the one case he recognises the
possibility of matter thinking, and in the other case denies such
possibility, _and this on the sole ground of its being inconceivable_!
However, I am not here concerned with Locke's eccentricities:[6] I am
merely engaged with the general principle, that a subjective inability to
establish certain relations in thought is no sufficient warrant for
concluding that corresponding objective relations may not obtain.
§ 13. Hence, an objector to the above syllogism need not be a materialist;
it is not even necessary that he should hold any theory of things at all.
Nevertheless, for the sake of definition, I shall assume that he is a
materialist. As a materialist, then, he would appear to be as much entitled
to his hypothesis as a theist is to his--in respect, I mean, of this
particular argument. For although I think, as before shown, that in strict
reasoning a theist might have taken exception to the last-quoted passage
from Mill in its connection with the law of causation, that passage, if
considered in the present connection, is certainly unanswerable. What is
the state of the present argument as between a materialist and a theist?
The mystery of existence and the inconceivability of matter thinking are
their common data. Upon these data the materialist, justly arguing that he
has no right to make his own conceptive faculty the unconditional test of
objective possibility, is content to merge the mystery of his own mind's
existence into that of Existence in general; while the theist, compelled to
accept without explanation the mystery of Existence in general,
nevertheless has recourse to inventing a wholly gratuitous hypothesis to
explain one mode of existence in particular. If it is said that the latter
hypothesis has the merit of causing the mystery of material existence and
the mystery of mental existence to be united in a thinkable manner--viz.,
in a self-existing Mind,--I reply, It is not so; for in whatever degree it
is unthinkable that Matter should be the cause of Mind, in that precise
degree must it be unthinkable that Mind was ever the cause of Matter, the
correlatives being in each case the same, and experience affording no
evidence of causality in either.
§ 14. The two hypotheses, therefore, are of exactly equivalent value, save
that while the one has a certain basis of fact to rest upon,[7] the other
is wholly arbitrary. But it may still be retorted, 'Is not that which is
_most_ conceivable _most likely_ to be true? and if it is more conceivable
that my intelligence is caused by another Intelligence than that it is
caused by Non-intelligence, may I not regard the more conceivable
hypothesis as also the more probable one? It is somewhat difficult to say
how far this argument is, in this case, valid; only I think it is quite
evident that its validity is open to grave dispute. For nothing can be more
evident to a philosophical thinker than that the substance of Mind must--so
far at least as we can at present see--_necessarily_ be unknowable; so that
if Matter (and Force) be this substance, we should antecedently expect to
find that the actual causal connection should, in this particular case, be
more inconceivable than some imaginary one: it would be more natural for
the mind to infer that something conceivably more akin to itself should be
its cause, than that this cause should be the entity which really gives
rise to the unthinkable connection. But even waiving this reflection, and
granting that the above argument is _valid_, it is still to an indefinite
degree _valueless_, seeing that we are unable to tell _how much it is more
likely_ that the more conceivable should here be true than that the less
conceivable should be so.
§ 15. Returning then to Locke's comparison between the certainty of this
argument and that which proves the sum of the angles of a triangle to be
equal to two right-angles, I should say that there is a _virtual_, though
not a _formal_, fallacy in his presentation. For mathematical science being
confessedly but of relative significance, any comparison between the degree
of certainty attained by reasoning upon so transcendental a subject as the
present, and that of mathematical demonstrations regarding relative truth,
must be misleading. In the present instance, the whole strain of the
argument comes upon the adequacy of the proposed test of truth, viz., our
being able to conceive it if true. Now, will any one undertake to say that
this test of truth is of equivalent value when it is applied to a triangle
and when it is applied to the Deity. In the one case we are dealing with a
geometrical figure of an exceedingly simple type, with which our experience
is well acquainted, and presenting a very limited number of relations for
us to contemplate. In the other case we are endeavouring to deal with the
_summum genus_ of all mystery, with reference to which experience is quite
impossible, and which in its mention contains all the relations that are to
us unknown and unknowable. Here, then, is the oversight. Because men find
conceivability a valid test of truth in the affairs of everyday life--as it
is easy to show _à priori_ that it must be, if our experience has been
formed under a given code of constant and general laws--therefore they
conclude that it must be equally valid _wherever_ it is applied; forgetting
that its validity must perforce decrease in proportion to the distance at
which the test is applied from the sphere of experience.[8]
§ 16. Upon the whole, then, I think it is transparently obvious that the
mere fact of our being unable to conceive, say, how any disposition of
matter and motion could possibly give rise to a self-conscious
intelligence, in no wise warrants us in concluding that for this reason no
such disposition is possible. The only question would appear to be, whether
the test which is here proposed as an unconditional criterion of truth
should be allowed any the smallest degree of credit. Seeing, on the one
hand, how very fallible the test in question is known to have proved itself
in many cases of much less speculative difficulty--seeing, too, that even
now "the philosophy of the condition proves that things there are which
may, nay must, be true, of which nevertheless the mind is unable to
construe to itself the possibility;"[9] and seeing, on the other hand, that
the substance of Mind, whatever it is, must necessarily be
unknowable;--seeing these things, if any question remains as to whether the
test of inconceivability should in this case be regarded as having any
degree of validity at all, there can, I think, be no reasonable doubt that
such degree should be regarded as of the smallest.
§ 17. Let us then turn to the other considerations which have been supposed
to justify the assertion that nothing can have caused our mind save another
Mind. Neglecting the crushing fact that "it does not account for Mind to
refer it to another Mind for its origin," let as see what positive reasons
there are for concluding that no other influence than Intelligence can
possibly have produced our intelligence.
§ 18. First we may notice the argument which is well and tersely presented
by Locke, thus:--"Whatsoever is first of all things must necessarily
contain in it, and actually have, at least, all the perfections that can
ever after exist; nor can it ever give to another any perfection that it
hath not actually in itself, or at least in a higher degree; it necessarily
follows that the first eternal being cannot be Matter." Now, as this
presentation is strictly formal, I shall first meet it with a formal reply,
and this reply consists in a direct contradiction. It is simply untrue that
"whatsoever is first of all things must necessarily contain in it, and
actually have, at least, all the perfections that can after exist;" or that
it can never "give to another any perfection that it hath not actually in
itself." In a sense, no doubt, a cause contains all that is contained in
its effects; the latter content being _potentially_ present in the former.
But to say that a cause already contains _actually_ all that its effects
may afterwards so contain, is a statement which logic and common sense
alike condemn as absurd.
Nevertheless, although the argument now before us thus admits of a
childishly easy refutation on strictly formal grounds, I suspect that in
substance the argument in a general way is often relied upon as one of very
considerable weight. Even though it is clearly illogical to say that causes
cannot give to their effects any perfection which they themselves do not
actually present, yet it seems in a general way incredible that gross
matter could contain, even potentially, the faculty of thinking.
Nevertheless, this is but to appeal to the argument from Inconceivability;
to do which, even were it here legitimate, would, as we have seen, be
unavailing. But to appeal to the argument from Inconceivability in this
case would _not_ be legitimate; for we are in possession of an abundant
analogy to render the supposition in question, not only conceivable, but
credible. In the words of Mr. Mill, "Apart from experience, and arguing on
what is called reason, that is, on supposed self-evidence, the notion seems
to be that no causes can give rise to products of a more precious or
elevated kind than themselves. But this is at variance with the known
analogies of nature. How vastly nobler and more precious, for instance, are
the vegetables and animals than the soil and manure out of which, and by
the properties of which, they are raised up! The tendency of all recent
speculation is towards the opinion that the development of inferior orders
of existence into superior, the substitution of greater elaboration, and
higher organisation for lower, is the general rule of nature. Whether this
is so or not, there are at least in nature a multitude of facts bearing
that character, and this is sufficient for the argument."
§ 19. We now come to the last of the arguments which, so far as I know,
have ever been adduced in support of the assertion that there can be no
other cause of our intelligence than another and superior Intelligence. The
argument is chiefly remarkable for the very great prominence which was
given to it by Sir W. Hamilton.
This learned and able author says:--"The Deity is not an object of
immediate contemplation; as existing and in himself, he is beyond our
reach; we can know him only mediately through his works, and are only
warranted in assuming his existence as a certain kind of cause necessary to
account for a certain state of things, of whose reality our faculties are
supposed to inform us. The affirmation of a God being thus a regressive
inference from the existence of a special class of effects to the existence
of a special character of cause, it is evident that the whole argument
hinges on the fact,--Does a state of things really exist such as is only
possible through the agency of a Divine Cause? For if it can be shown that
such a state of things does not really exist, then our inference to the
kind of cause requisite to account for it is necessarily null.
"This being understood, I now proceed to show you that the class of
phænomena which requires that kind of cause we denominate a Deity is
exclusively given in the phænomena of mind,--that the phænomena of matter
taken by themselves, (you will observe the qualification taken by
themselves) so far from warranting any inference to the existence of a God,
would, on the contrary, ground even an argument to his negation.
"If, in man, intelligence be a free power,--in so far as its liberty
extends, intelligence must be independent of necessity and matter; and a
power independent of matter necessarily implies the existence of an
immaterial subject,--that is, a spirit. If, then, the original independence
of intelligence on matter in the human constitution, in other words, if the
spirituality of mind in man be supposed a datum of observation, in this
datum is also given both the condition and the proof of a God. For we have
only to infer, what analogy entitles us to do, that intelligence holds the
same relative supremacy in the universe which it holds in us, and the first
positive condition of a Deity is established in the establishment of the
absolute priority of a free creative intelligence."[10]
§ 20. Thus, according to Sir W. Hamilton, the whole question as to the
being of a God depends upon that as to whether our "intelligence be a free
power,"--or, as he elsewhere states it himself, "Theology is wholly
dependent upon Psychology, for with the proof of the moral nature of man
stands or falls the proof of the existence of a Deity." It will be observed
that I am not at present engaged with the legitimacy of this author's
decision upon the comparative merits of the different arguments in favour
of Theism: I am merely showing the high opinion he entertained of the
particular argument before us. He positively affirms that, unless the
freedom of the human will be a matter of experience, Atheism is the sole
alternative. Doubtless most well-informed readers will feel that the
solitary basis thus provided for Theism is a very insecure one, while many
such readers will at once conclude that if this is the only basis which
reason can provide for Theism to stand upon, Theism is without any rational
basis to stand upon at all. I have no hesitation in saying that the
last-mentioned opinion is the one to which I myself subscribe, for I am
quite unable to understand how any one at the present day, and with the
most moderate powers of abstract thinking, can possibly bring himself to
embrace the theory of Free-will. I may add that I cannot but believe that
those who do embrace this theory with an honest conviction, must have
failed to understand the issue to which modern thought has reduced the
question. Here, however, is not the place to discuss this question. It will
be sufficient for my purpose to show that even Sir W. Hamilton himself
considered it a very difficult one; and although he thought upon the whole
that the will must be free, he nevertheless allowed--nay, insisted--that he
was unable to conceive how it could be so. Such inability in itself does
not of course show the Free-will theory to be untrue; and I merely point
out the circumstance that Hamilton allowed the supposed fact unthinkable,
in order to show how very precarious, even in his eyes, the argument which
we are considering must have appeared. Let us then, for this purpose,
contemplate his attitude with regard to it a little more closely. He says,
"It would have been better to show articulately that Liberty and Necessity
are both incomprehensible, as beyond the limits of legitimate thought; but
that though the Free-agency of Man cannot be speculatively proved, so
neither can it be speculatively disproved; while we may claim for it as a
fact of real actuality, though of inconceivable possibility, the testimony
of consciousness, that we are morally free, as we are morally accountable
for our actions. In this manner the whole question of free- and bond-will
is in theory abolished, leaving, however, practically our Liberty, and all
the moral instincts of Man entire."[11]
From this passage it is clear that Sir W. Hamilton regarded these two
counter-theories as of precisely equivalent value in everything save "the
testimony of consciousness;" or, as he elsewhere states it, "as equally
unthinkable, the two counter, the two one-sided, schemes are thus
theoretically balanced. But, practically, our consciousness of the moral
law ... gives a decisive preponderance to the doctrine of freedom over the
doctrine of fate."
But the whole question concerning the freedom of the will has now come to
be as to whether or not consciousness _does_ give its verdict on the side
of freedom. Supposing we grant that "we are warranted to rely on a
deliverance of consciousness, when that deliverance is _that_ a thing is,
although we may be unable to think _how_ it can be,"[12] in this case the
question still remains, whether our opponents have rightly interpreted the
deliverance of their consciousness. I, for one, am quite persuaded that I
never perform any action without some appropriate motive, or set of
motives, having induced me to perform it. However, I am not discussing this
question, and I have merely made the above quotations for the purpose of
showing that Sir W. Hamilton appears to identify the _theory_ of Free-will
with the _fact_ that we possess a moral sense. He argues throughout as
though the theory he advocates were the only one that can explain a given
"fact of real actuality." But no one with whom we have to deal questions
the fact of our having a moral sense; and to identify this "deliverance of
consciousness" with belief in the theory that volitions are uncaused, is,
or would now be, merely to abandon the only questions in dispute.
It is very instructive, from this point of view, to observe the dilemma
into which Hamilton found himself driven by this identification of genuine
fact with spurious theory. He believed that the fact of man possessing an
ethical faculty could only be explained by the theory that man's will was
not determined by motives; for otherwise man could not be the author of his
own actions. But when he considered the matter in its other aspect, he
found that his theory of Free-will was as little compatible with moral
responsibility as was the opposing theory of "Bond-will;" for not only did
he candidly confess that he could not conceive of will as acting without
motives, but he further allowed the unquestionable truth "that, though
inconceivable, a motiveless volition would, if conceived, be conceived as
morally worthless."[13] I say this is very instructive, because it shows
that in Hamilton's view each theory was alike irreconcilable with "the
deliverance of consciousness," and that he only chose the one in preference
to the other, because, although not any more conceivable a solution, it
seemed to him a more possible one.[14]
§ 21. Such, then, is the speculative basis on which, according to Sir W.
Hamilton, our belief in a Deity can alone be grounded.
Those who at the present day are still confused enough in their notions
regarding the Free-will question to suppose that any further rational
question remains, may here be left to ruminate over this _bolus_, and to
draw from it such nourishment as they can in support of their belief in a
God; but to those who can see as plainly as daylight that the doctrine of
Determinism not only harmonises with all the facts of observation, but
alone affords a possible condition for, and a satisfactory explanation of,
the existence of our ethical faculty,--to such persons the question will
naturally arise:--"Although Hamilton was wrong in identifying a known fact
with a false theory, yet may he not have been right in the deductions which
he drew from the fact?" In other words, granting that his theory of
Free-will was wrong, does not his argument from the existence of a moral
sense in man to the existence of a moral Governor of the Universe remain as
intact as ever? Now, it is quite true that whatever degree of cogency the
argument from the presence of the moral sense may at any time have had,
this degree remains unaffected by the explosion of erroneous theories to
account for such presence. We have, therefore, still to face the fact that
the moral sense of man undoubtedly exists.
§ 22. The question we have to determine is, What evidence have we to show
that the moral part of man was created in the image of God; and if there is
any such evidence, what counter-existence is there to show that the moral
existence of man may be due to natural causes? In deciding this question,
just as in deciding any other question of a purely scientific character, we
must be guided in our examination by the Law of Parcimony; we must not
assume the agency of supernatural causes if we can discover the agency of
natural causes; neither must we merge the supposed mystery directly into
the highest mystery, until we are quite sure that it does not admit of
being proximately explained by the action of proximate influences.
Now, whether or not Mr. Darwin's theory as to the origin and development of
the moral sense be considered satisfactory, there can, I think, be very
little doubt in any impartial mind which duly considers the subject, that
in _some way or other_ the moral sense has been evolved. The body of
scientific evidence which has now been collected in favour of the general
theory of evolution is simply overwhelming; and in the presence of so large
an analogy, it would require a vast amount of contradictory evidence to
remove the presumption that human conscience, like everything else, has
been evolved. Now, for my own part, I am quite unable to distinguish any
such evidence, while, on the other hand, in support of the _à priori_
presumption that conscience has been evolved, I cannot conceal from myself
that there is a large amount of _à posteriori_ confirmation. I am quite
unable to distinguish anything in my sense of right and wrong which I
cannot easily conceive to have been brought about during the evolution of
my intelligence from lower forms of psychical life. On the contrary,
everything that I can find in my sense of right and wrong is precisely what
I should expect to find on the supposition of this sense having been
moulded by the progressive requirements of social development. Read in the
light of evolution, Conscience, in its every detail, is deductively
explained.
And, as though there were not sufficient evidence of this kind to justify
the conclusion drawn from the theory of evolution, the doctrine of
utilitarianism--separately conceived and separately worked out on
altogether independent grounds--the doctrine of utilitarianism comes in
with irresistible force to confirm that _à priori_ conclusion by the widest
and most unexceptionable of inductions.[15]
In the supernatural interpretation of the facts, the whole stress of the
argument comes upon the character of conscience as a _spontaneously
admonishing influence which acts independently of our own volition_. For it
is from this character alone that the inference can arise that conscience
is the delegate of the will of another. Thus, to render the whole argument
in the singularly beautiful words of Dr. Newman:--"If, as is the case, we
feel responsibility, are ashamed, are frightened at transgressing the voice
of conscience, this implies that there is One to whom we are responsible,
before whom we are ashamed, whose claims upon us we fear. If, on doing
wrong, we feel the same tearful, broken-hearted sorrow which overwhelms us
on hurting a mother; if, on doing right, we enjoy the same seeming serenity
of mind, the same soothing, satisfactory delight, which follows on one
receiving praise from a father,--we certainly have within us the image of
some person to whom our love and veneration look, in whose smile we find
our happiness, for whom we yearn, towards whom we direct our pleadings, in
whose anger we waste away. These feelings in us are such as require for
their exciting cause an intelligent being; we are not affectionate towards
a stone, nor do we feel shame before a horse or a dog; we have no remorse
or compunction in breaking mere human law. Yet so it is; conscience emits
all these painful emotions, confusion, foreboding, self-condemnation; and,
on the other hand, it sheds upon us a deep peace, a sense of security, a
resignation, and a hope which there is no sensible, no earthly object to
elicit. 'The wicked flees when no one pursueth;' then why does he flee?
whence his terror? Who is it that he sees in solitude, in darkness, in the
hidden chambers of his heart? If the cause of these emotions does not
belong to this visible world, the Object to which his perception is
directed must be supernatural and divine; and thus the phenomena of
conscience as a dictate avail to impress the imagination with the picture
of a Supreme Governor, a Judge, holy, just, powerful, all-seeing,
retributive."[16]
Now I have quoted this passage because it seems to me to convey in a
concise form the whole of the argument from Conscience. But how tremendous
are the inferences which are drawn from the facts! As the first step in our
criticism, it is necessary to point out that two very different orders of
feelings are here treated by Dr. Newman. There is first the pure or
uncompounded ethical feelings, which spring directly from the moral sense
alone, and which all men experience in varying degrees. And next there are
what we may term the _ethico-theological_ feelings, which can only spring
from a blending of the moral sense with a belief in a personal God, or
other supernatural agents. The former class of feelings, or the
uncompounded ethical class, have exclusive reference to the moral
obligations that subsist between ourselves and other human beings, or
sentient organisms. The latter class of feelings, or the ethico-theological
class, have reference to the moral obligations that are believed to subsist
between ourselves and the Deity, or other supernatural beings. Now, in
order not to lose sight of this all-important distinction, I shall
criticise Dr. Newman's rendering of the ordinary argument from Conscience
in each of these two points of views separately. To begin, then, with the
uncompounded ethical feelings.
Such emotions as attend the operation of conscience in those who follow its
light alone without any theories as to its supernatural origin, are all of
the character of _reasonable_ or _explicable_ emotions. Granting that
fellow-feeling has been for the benefit of the race, and therefore that it
has been developed by natural causes, certainly there is nothing
_mysterious_ in the emotions that attend the violating or the following of
the dictates of conscience. For conscience is, by this naturalistic
supposition, nothing more than an organised body of certain psychological
elements, which, by long inheritance, have come to inform us, by way of
intuitive feeling, how we should act for the interests of society; so that,
if this hypothesis is correct, there cannot be anything more mysterious or
supernatural in the working of conscience than there is in the working of
any of our other faculties. That the disagreeable feeling of
_self-reproach_, as distinguished from _religious_ feeling, should follow
upon a violation of such an organized body of psychological elements,
cannot be thought surprising, if it is remembered that one of these
elements is natural fellow-feeling, and the others the elements which lead
us to know directly that we have violated the interests of other persons.
And as regards the mere fact that the working of conscience is independent
of the will, surely this is not more than we find, in varying degrees, to
be true of all our emotions; and conscience, according to the evolution
theory, has its root in the emotions. Hence, it is no more an argument to
say that the irrepressible character of conscience refers us to a God of
morality, than it would be to say that the sometimes resistless force of
the ludicrous refers us to a god of laughter. Love, again, is an emotion
which cannot be subdued by volition, and in its tendency to persist bears
just such a striking resemblance to the feelings of morality as we should
expect to find on the supposition of the former having played an important
part in the genesis of the latter. The _dictating_ character of conscience,
therefore, is clearly in itself of no avail as pointing to a superhuman
Dictator. Thus, for example, to take Dr. Newman's own illustration, why
should we feel such tearful, broken-hearted sorrow on intentionally or
carelessly hurting a mother? We see no shadow of a reason for resorting to
any supernatural hypothesis to explain the fact--love between mother and
offspring being an essential condition to the existence of higher animals.
Yet this is a simple case of truly conscientious feeling, where the thought
of any _personal_ cause of conscience _need_ not be entertained, and is
certainly not necessary to explain the effects. And similarly with _all_
cases of conscientious feeling, _except in cases where it refers directly
to its supposed author_. But these latter cases, or the ethico-theological
class of feelings, are in no way surprising. If the moral sense has had a
natural genesis in the actual relations between man and man, as soon as an
ideal "image" of "a holy, just, powerful, all-seeing, retributive" God is
firmly believed to have an objective existence, as a matter of course moral
feelings must become transferred to the relations which are believed to
obtain between ourselves and this most holy God. Indeed, it is these very
feelings which, in the absence of any proof to the contrary, must be
concluded, in accordance with the law of parcimony, to have _generated_
this idea of God as "holy, just," and good. And the mere fact that, when
the complex system of religious belief has once been built up, conscience
is strongly wrought upon by that belief and its accompanying emotions, is
surely a fact the very reverse of mysterious. Suppose, for the sake of
argument, that the moral sense has been evolved from the social feelings,
and should we not certainly expect that, when the belief in a moral and
all-seeing God is superadded, conscience should be distracted at the
thought of offending him, and experience a "soothing, satisfactory delight"
in the belief that we are pleasing him? And as to the argument, "Why does
the wicked flee when none pursueth? whence his terror?" the question admits
of only too easy an answer. Indeed, the form into which the question is
thrown would almost seem--were it not written by Dr. Newman--to imply a
sarcastic reference to the power of superstition. "Who is it that," not
only Dr. Newman, but the haunted savage, the mediæval sorcerer, or the
frightened child, "sees in solitude, in darkness, in the hidden chambers of
his heart?" Who but the "image" of his own thought? "If the cause of these
emotions does not belong to this visible world, the Object to which his
perception is directed must be supernatural and divine." Assuredly; but
what an inference from what an assumption! Whether or not the moral sense
has been developed by natural causes, "these emotions" of terror at the
thought of offending beings "supernatural and divine" are not of such
unique occurrence "in the visible world" as to give Dr. Newman the monopoly
of his particular "Object." With a deeper meaning, therefore, than he
intends may we repeat, "The phenomena of conscience as a dictate _avail_ to
impress the _imagination_ with the _picture_ of a Supreme Governor." But
criticism here is positively painful. Let it be enough to say that those of
us who do not already believe in any such particular "Object"--be it ghost,
shape, demon, or deity--are strangers, utter and complete, to any such
supernatural pursuers. The fact, therefore, of these various religious
emotions being associated with conscience in the minds of theists, can in
itself be no proof of Theism, seeing that it is the theory of Theism which
itself _engenders_ these emotions; those who do not believe in this theory
experiencing none of these feelings of personal dread, responsibility to an
unknown God, and the feelings of doing injury to, or of receiving praise
from, a parent. To such of us the violation of conscience is its own
punishment, as the pursuit of virtue is its own reward. For we know that
not more certainly than fire will burn, any violation of the deeply-rooted
feelings of our humanity will leave a gaping wound which even time may not
always heal. And when it is shown us that our natural dread of fire is due
to a supernatural cause, we may be prepared to entertain the argument that
our natural dread of sin, as distinguished from our dread of God, is
likewise due to such a cause. But until this can be done we must, as
reasonable men, _whose minds have been trained in the school of nature_,
forbear to allow that the one fact is of any greater cogency than the
other, so far as the question of a supernatural cause of either is
concerned. For, as we have already seen, the law of parcimony forbids us to
ascribe "the phenomena of conscience as a dictate" to a supernatural cause,
until the science of psychology shall have proved that they cannot have
been due to natural causes. But, as we have also seen, the science of
psychology is now beginning, as quick and thoroughly as can be expected, to
prove the very converse; so that the probability is now overwhelming that
our moral sense, like all our other faculties, has been evolved. Therefore,
while the burden of proof really lies on the side of Theism--or with those
who account for the natural phenomena of conscience by the hypothesis of a
supernatural origin--this burden is now being rapidly discharged by the
opposite side. That is to say, while the proofs which are now beginning to
substantiate the naturalistic hypothesis are all in full accord with the
ordinary lines of scientific explanations, the vague and feeble reflections
of those who still maintain that Conscience is evidence of Deity, are all
such as run counter to the very truisms of scientific method.
In the face of all the facts, therefore, I find it impossible to recognise
as valid any inference which is drawn from the existence of our moral sense
to the existence of a God; although, of course, all inferences drawn from
the existence of our moral sense to the _character_ of a God already
believed to exist remain unaffected by the foregoing considerations.[17]
* * * * *
CHAPTER III.
THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN.
§ 23. The argument from Design, as presented by Mill, is merely a
resuscitation of it as presented by Paley. True it is that the logical
penetration of the former enabled him to perceive that the latter had "put
the case much too strongly;" although, even here, he has failed to see
wherein Paley's error consisted. He says:--"If I found a watch on an
apparently desolate island, I should indeed infer that it had been left
there by a human being; but the inference would not be from the marks of
design, but because I already know by direct experience that watches are
made by men." Now I submit that this misses the whole point of Paley's
meaning; for it is evident that there would be no argument at all unless
this author be understood to say what he clearly enough expresses, viz.,
that the evidence of design supposed to be afforded by the watch is
supposed to be afforded by examination of its mechanism only, and not by
any previous knowledge as to how that particular mechanism called a watch
is made. Paley, I take it, only chose a watch for his example because he
knew that no reader would dispute the fact that watches are constructed by
design: except for the purpose of pointing out that mechanism is in some
cases admitted to be due to intelligence, for all the other purposes of his
argument he might as well have chosen for his illustration any case of
mechanism occurring in nature. What the real fallacy in Paley's argument
is, is another question, and this I shall now endeavour to answer; for, as
Mill's argument is clearly the same in kind as that of Paley and his
numberless followers, in examining the one I am also examining the other.
§ 24. In nature, then, we see innumerable examples of apparent design: are
these of equal value in testifying to the presence of a designing
intelligence as are similar examples of human contrivance, and if not, why
not? The answer to the first of these questions is patent. If such examples
were of the same value in the one case as they are in the other, the
existence of a Deity would be, as Paley appears to have thought it was,
demonstrated by the fact. A brief and yet satisfactory answer to the second
question is not so easy, and we may best approach it by assuming the
existence of a Deity. If, then, there is a God, it by no means follows that
every apparent contrivance in nature is an actual contrivance, in the same
sense as is any human contrivance. The eye of a vertebrated animal, for
instance, exhibits as much apparent design as does a watch; but no one--at
the present day, at least--will undertake to affirm that the evidence of
divine thought furnished by one example is as conclusive as is the evidence
of human thought furnished by the other--and this even assuming a Deity to
exist. Why is this? The reason, I think, is, that we know by our personal
experience what are our own relations to the material world, and to the
laws which preside over the action of physical forces; while we can have no
corresponding knowledge of the relations subsisting between the Deity and
these same objects of our own experience. Hence, to suppose that the Deity
constructed the eye by any such process of thought as we know that men
construct watches, is to make an assumption not only incapable of proof,
but destitute of any assignable degree of likelihood. Take an example. The
relation in which a bee stands to the external world is to a large extent a
matter of observation, and, therefore, no one imagines that the formation
of its scientifically-constructed cells is due to any profound study on the
bee's part. Whatever the origin of the cell-making instinct may have been,
its nature is certainly not the same as it would have been in man,
supposing him to have had occasion to construct honeycombs. It may be said
that the requisite calculations have been made for the bees by the Deity;
but, even if this assumption were true, it would be nothing to the point,
which is merely that even within the limits of the animal kingdom the
relations of intelligence to the external world are so diverse, that the
same results may be accomplished by totally different intellectual
processes. And as this example is parallel to the case on which we are
engaged in everything save the _observability_ of the relations involved,
it supplies us with the exact measure of the probability we are trying to
estimate. Hence it is evident that so long as we remain ignorant of the
element essential to the argument from design in its Paleyerian form--viz.,
knowledge or presumption of the relations subsisting between an
hypothetical Deity and his creation--so long must that argument remain, not
only unassignably weak, but incapable of being strengthened by any number
of examples similar in kind.
§ 25. To put the case in another way. The root fallacy in Paley's argument
consisted in reasoning from a particular to an universal. Because he knew
that design was the cause of adaptation in some cases, and because the
phenomena of life exhibited more instances of adaptation than any other
class of phenomena in nature, he pointed to these phenomena as affording an
exceptional kind of proof of the presence in nature of intelligent agency.
Yet, if it is admitted--and of this, even in Paley's days, there was a
strong analogical presumption--that the phenomena of life are throughout
their history as much subject to law as are any other phenomena
whatsoever,--that the method of the divine government, supposing such to
exist, is the same here as elsewhere; then nothing can be clearer than that
any amount of observable adaptation of means to ends within this class of
phenomena cannot afford any different kind of evidence of _design_ than is
afforded by any other class of phenomena whatsoever. Either we know the
relations of the Deity to his creation, or we do not. If we do, then we
must know whether or not _every_ physical change which occurs in accordance
with law--_i.e._, every change occurring within experience, and so, until
contrary evidence is produced, presumably every change occurring beyond
experience--was separately planned by the Deity. If we do not, then we have
no more reason to suppose that any one set of physical changes rather than
another has been separately planned by him, unless we could point (as Paley
virtually pointed) to one particular set of changes and assert, These are
not subject to the same method of divine government which we observe
elsewhere, or, in other words, to law. If it is retorted that _in some way
or other_ all these wonderful adaptations must ultimately have been due to
intelligence, this is merely to shift the argument to a ground which we
shall presently have to consider: all we are now engaged upon is to show
that we have no right to found arguments on the assumed _mode_, _manner_,
or _process_ by which the supposed intelligence is thought to have
operated. We can here see, then, more clearly where Paley stumbled. He
virtually assumed that the relations subsisting between the Deity and the
universe were such, that the exceptional adaptations met with in the
organised part of the latter cannot have been due to the same intellectual
_processes_ as was the rest of the universe--or that, if they were, still
they yielded better evidence of having been due to these processes than
does the rest of the universe. And it is easy to perceive that his error
arose from his pre-formed belief in special creation. So long as a man
regards every living organism which he sees as the lineal descendant of a
precisely similar organism originally struck out by the immediate fiat of
Deity, so long is he justified in holding his axiom, "Contrivance must have
had a contriver." For "adaptation" then becomes to our minds the synonym of
"contrivance"--it being utterly inconceivable that the numberless
adaptations found in any living organism could have resulted in any other
way than by intelligent contrivance, at the time when this organism was in
the first instance _suddenly_ introduced into its complex conditions of
life. Still, as an argument, this is of course merely reasoning in a
circle: we adopt a hypothesis which presupposes the existence of a Deity as
the first step in the proof of his existence. I do not say that Paley
committed this error expressly, but merely that if it had not been for his
pre-formed conviction as to the truth of the special-creation theory, he
would probably not have written his "Natural Theology."
§ 26. Thus let us take a case of his own choosing, and the one which is
adduced by him as typical of "the application of the argument." "I know of
no better method of introducing so large a subject than that of comparing a
single thing with a single thing; an eye, for example, with a telescope. As
far as the examination of the instrument goes, there is precisely the same
proof that the eye was made for vision as there is that the telescope was
made for assisting it. They are both made upon the same principles, both
being adjusted to the laws by which the transmission and refraction of rays
of light are regulated. I speak not of the origin of the laws themselves;
but these laws being fixed, the construction in both cases is adapted to
them. For instance: these laws require, in order to produce the same
effect, that the rays of light, in passing through water into the eye,
should be refracted by a more convex surface than when it passes out of air
into the eye. Accordingly we find that the eye of a fish, in that part of
it called the crystalline lens, is much rounder than the eye of terrestrial
animals. What plainer manifestation of design can there be than this
difference?" But what, let us ask, is the proximate cause of this
difference? 'The immediate volition of the Deity, manifested in special
creation,' virtually answers Paley; while we of to-day are able to reply,
'The agency of natural laws, to wit, inheritance, variation, survival of
the fittest, and probably of other laws as yet not discovered.' Now, of
course, according to the former of these two premises, there can be no more
legitimate conclusion than that the difference in question is due to
intelligent and special design; but, according to the other premise, it is
equally clear that no conclusion can be more unwarranted; for, under the
latter view, the greater rotundity of the crystalline lens in a fish's eye
no more exhibits the presence of any special design than does the
adaptation of a river to the bed which it has itself been the means of
excavating. When, therefore, Paley goes on to ask:--"How is it possible,
under circumstances of such close affinity, and under the operation of
equal evidence, to exclude contrivance from the case of the eye, yet to
acknowledge the proof of contrivance having been employed, as the plainest
and clearest of all propositions, in the case of the telescope?" the answer
is sufficiently obvious, namely, that the "evidence" in the two cases is
_not_ "equal;"--any more than is the existence, say, of the Nile of equal
value in point of evidence that it was designed for traffic, as is the
existence of the Suez Canal that it was so designed. And the mere fact that
the problem of achromatism was solved by "the mind of a sagacious optician
inquiring how this matter was managed in the eye," no more proves that
"this could not be in the eye without purpose, which suggested to the
optician the only effectual means of attaining that purpose," than would
the fact, say, of the winnowing of corn having suggested the
fanning-machine prove that air currents were designed for the purpose of
eliminating chaff from grain. In short, the real substance of the argument
from Design must eventually merge into that which Paley, in the
above-quoted passage, expressly passes over--viz., "the origin of the laws
themselves;" for so long as there is any reason to suppose that any
apparent "adaptation" to a certain set of "fixed laws" is itself due to the
influence of other "fixed laws," so long have we as little right to say
that the latter set of fixed laws exhibit any better indications of
intelligent adaptation to the former set, than the former do to that of the
latter--the eye to light, than light to the eye. Hence I conceive that Mill
is entirely wrong when he says of Paley's argument, "It surpasses analogy
exactly as induction surpasses it," because "the instances chosen are
particular instances of a circumstance which experience shows to have a
real connection with an intelligent origin--the fact of conspiring to an
end." Experience shows as this, but it shows us more besides; it shows us
that there is no _necessary_ or _uniform_ connection between an
"intelligent origin" and the fact of apparent "means conspiring to an
[apparent] end." If the reader will take the trouble to compare this
quotation just made from Mill, and the long train of reasoning that
follows, with an admirable illustration in Mr. Wallace's "Natural
Selection," he will be well rewarded by finding all the steps in Mr. Mill's
reasoning so closely paralleled by the caricature, that but for the
respective dates of publication, one might have thought the latter had an
express reference to the former.[18] True, Mr. Mill closes his argument
with a brief allusion to the "principle of the survival of the fittest,"
observing that "creative forethought is not absolutely the only link by
which the origin of the wonderful mechanism of the eye may be connected
with the fact of sight." I am surprised, however, that a man of Mr. Mill's
penetration did not see that whatever view we may take as to "the adequacy
of this principle (_i.e._, Natural Selection) to account for such truly
admirable combinations as some of those in nature," the argument from
_Design_ is not materially affected. So far as this argument is concerned,
the issue is not Design _versus_ Natural Selection, but it is Design
_versus_ Natural Law. By all means, "leaving this remarkable speculation
(_i.e._, Mr. Darwin's) to whatever fate the progress of discovery may have
in store for it," and it by no means follows that "in the present state of
knowledge the adaptations in nature afford a large balance of probability
in favour of creation by intelligence." For whatever we may think of this
special theory as to the _mode_, there can be no longer any reasonable
doubt, "in the present state of our knowledge," as to the truth of the
general theory of _Evolution_; and the latter, if accepted, is as
destructive to the argument from _Design_ as would the former be if proved.
In a word, it is the _fact_ and not the _method_ of Evolution which is
subversive of Teleology in its Paleyerian form.
§ 27. We have come then to this:--Apparent intellectual adaptations are
perfectly valid indications of design, so long as their authorship is known
to be confined to human intelligence; for then we know from experience what
are our relations to these laws, and so in any given case can argue _à
posteriori_ that such an adaptation to such a set of laws by such an
intelligence can only have been due to such a process. But when we overstep
the limits of experience, we are not entitled to argue anything _à priori_
of any other intelligence in this respect, even supposing any such
intelligence to exist. The analogy by which the unknown relations are
inferred from the known is "infinitely precarious;" seeing that two of the
analogous terms--to wit, the divine intelligence and the human--may differ
to an immeasurable extent in their properties--nay, are supposed thus to
differ, the one being supposed omniscient, omnipotent, &c., and the other
not. And, as a final step, we may now see that the argument from Design, in
its last resort, resolves itself into a _petitio principii_. For,
ultimately, the only point which the analogical argument in question is
adduced to prove is, that the relations subsisting between an Unknown Cause
and certain physical forces are so far identical with the relations known
to subsist between human intelligence and these same forces, that similar
intellectual processes are required in the two cases to account for the
production of similar effects--and hence that the Unknown Cause is
intelligent. But it is evident that the analogy itself can have no
existence, except upon the presupposition that these two sets of relations
_are_ thus identical. The point which the analogy is adduced to prove is
therefore postulated by the fact of its being adduced at all, and the whole
argument resolves itself into a case of _petitio principii_.
* * * * *
CHAPTER IV.
THE ARGUMENT FROM GENERAL LAWS.
§ 28. Turning now to an important error of Mr. Mill's in respect of
omission, I firmly believe that all competent writers who have ever
undertaken to support the argument from Design, have been moved to do so by
their instinctive appreciation of the much more important argument, which
Mill does not mention at all and which we now proceed to consider--the
argument from General Laws. That is to say, I cannot think that any one
competent writer ever seriously believed, had he taken time to analyse his
beliefs, that the cogency of his argument lay in assuming any knowledge
concerning the _process_ of divine thought; he must have really believed
that it lay entirely in his observation of the _product_ of divine
thought--or rather, let us say, of divine intelligence. Now this is the
whole difference between the argument from Design and the argument from
General Laws. The argument from Design says, There must be a God, because
such and such an organic structure must have been due to such and such an
intellectual _process_. The argument from General Laws says, There must be
a God, because such and such an organic structure must _in some way or
other have been ultimately due to_ intelligence. Nor does this argument end
here. Not only must such and such an organic structure have been ultimately
due to intelligence, but every such structure--nay, every phenomenon in the
universe--must have been the same; for all phenomena are alike subject to
the same method of sequence. The argument is thus a cumulative one; for as
there is no single known exception to this universal mode of existence, the
united effect of so vast a body of evidence is all but irresistible, and
its tendency is clearly to point us to some _one_ explanatory cause. The
scope of this argument is therefore co-extensive with the universe; it
draws alike upon all phenomena with which experience is acquainted. For
instance, it contains all the phenomena covered by the Design argument,
just as a genus contains any one of its species; it being manifest, from
what was said in the last section, that if the general doctrine of
Evolution is accepted, the argument from Design must of necessity merge
into that from General Laws. And this wide basis, we may be sure, must be
the most legitimate one whereon to rest an argument in favour of Theism. If
there is any such thing as such an argument at all, the most unassailable
field for its display must be the universe as a whole, seeing that if we
separate any one section of the universe from the rest, and suppose that we
here discover a different kind of testimony to intelligence from that which
we can discover elsewhere, we may from analogy be abundantly sure that on
the confines of our division there must be second causes and general laws
at work (whether discoverable or not), which are the immediate agents in
the production of the observed results. Of course I do not deny that some
classes of phenomena afford us more and better proofs of intellectual
agency than do others, in the sense of the laws in operation being more
numerous, subtle, and complex; but it will be seen that this is a different
interpretation of the evidence from that against which I am contending.
Thus, if there are tokens of divine intention (as distinguished from
design) to be met with in the eye,--if it is inconceivable that so "nice
and intricate a structure" should exist without intelligence as its
_ultimate_ cause; then the discovery of natural selection, or of any other
law, as the _manner_ in which this intelligence wrought in no wise
attenuates the proof as to the fact of an intelligent cause. On the
contrary, it tends rather to confirm it; for, besides the evidence before
existing, there is added that which arises from the conformity of the
method to that which is observable in the rest of the universe.
Thus, notwithstanding what Hamilton, Chalmers, and others have said, I
cannot but feel that the ubiquitous action of general laws is, of all facts
supplied by experience, the most cogent in its bearing upon teleology. If
perpetual and uninterrupted uniformity of method does not indicate the
existence of a presiding intelligence, it becomes a question whether any
other kind of method--short of the intelligently miraculous--could possibly
do so; seeing that the further the divine _modus operandi_ (supposing such
to exist) were removed from absolute uniformity, the greater would be the
room for our interpreting it as mere fortuity. But forasmuch as the
progress of science has shown that within experience the method of the
Supreme Causality is absolutely uniform, the hypothesis of fortuity is
rendered irrational; and let us think of this Supreme Causality as we may,
the fact remains that from it there emanates a directive influence of
uninterrupted consistency, on a scale of stupendous magnitude and exact
precision, worthy of our highest possible conceptions of Deity.
§ 29. Had it been my lot to have lived in the last generation, I doubt not
that I should have regarded the foregoing considerations as final: I should
have concluded that there was an overwhelming balance of rational
probability in favour of Theism; and I think I should also have insisted
that this balance of rational probability would require to continue as it
was till the end of time. I should have maintained, in some such words as
the following, in which the Rev. Baden Powell conveys this argument:--"The
very essence of the whole argument is the invariable preservation of the
principle of _order_: not necessarily such as we can directly recognise,
but the universal conviction of the unfailing subordination of everything
to _some_ grand principles of _law_, however imperfectly apprehended in our
partial conceptions, and the successive subordination of such laws to
others of still higher generality, to an extent transcending our
conceptions, and constituting the true chain of universal causation which
culminates in the sublime conception of the COSMOS.
"It is in immediate connection with this enlarged view of universal
immutable natural order that I have regarded the narrow notions of those
who obscure the sublime prospect by imagining so unworthy an idea as that
of occasional interruptions in the physical economy of the world.
"The only instance considered was that of the alleged sudden supernatural
origination of new species of organised beings in remote geological epochs.
It is in relation to the broad principle of law, if once rightly
apprehended, that such inferences are seen to be wholly unwarranted by
science, and such fancies utterly derogatory and inadmissible in
philosophy; while, even in those instances properly understood, the real
scientific conclusions of the invariable and indissoluble chain of
causation stand vindicated in the sublime contemplations with which they
are thus associated.
"To a correct apprehension of the whole argument, the one essential
requisite is to have obtained a complete and satisfactory grasp of this
_one grand principle of law pervading nature, or rather constituting the
very idea of nature_;--which forms the vital essence of the whole of
inductive science, and the sole assurance of those higher inferences from
the inductive study of natural causes which are the vindications of a
supreme intelligence and a moral cause.
"_The whole of the ensuing discussion must stand or fall with the admission
of this grand principle_. Those who are not prepared to embrace it in its
full extent may probably not accept the conclusions; but they must be sent
back to the school of inductive science, where alone it must be
independently imbibed and thoroughly assimilated with the mind of the
student in the first instance.
"On the slightest consideration of the nature, the foundations, and general
results of inductive science,... we recognise the powers of intellect fitly
employed in the study of nature,... pre-eminently leading us to perceive
_in nature_, and in the invariable and universal constancy of its laws, the
indications of universal, unchangeable, and recondite arrangement,
dependence, and connection in reason....
"We thus see the importance of taking a more enlarged view of the great
argument of natural theology; and the necessity for so doing becomes the
more apparent when we reflect on the injury to which these sublime
inferences are exposed from the narrow and unworthy form in which the
reasoning has been too often conducted....
"The satisfactory view of the whole case can only be found in those more
enlarged conceptions which are furnished by the grand contemplation of
cosmical order and unity, and which do not refer to inferences from the
_past_, but to proofs of the _ever-present_ mind and reason in nature.
"If we read a book which it requires much thought and exercise of reason to
understand, but which we find discloses more and more truth and reason as
we proceed in the study, and contains clearly more than we can at present
comprehend, then undeniably we properly say that thought and reason _exist
in that book_ irrespectively of our minds, and equally so of any question
as to its author or origin. Such a book confessedly exists, and is ever
open to us in the natural world. Or, to put the case under a slightly
different form:--When the astronomer, the physicist, the geologist, or the
naturalist notes down a series of observed facts or measured dates, he is
not an _author_ expressing his own ideas,--he is a mere _amanuensis_ taking
down the dictations of nature: his observation book is the record of the
thoughts of _another mind_: he has but set down literally what he himself
does not understand, or only very imperfectly. On further examination, and
after deep and anxious study, he perhaps begins to decipher the meaning, by
perceiving some law which gives a signification to the facts; and the
further he pursues the investigation up to any more comprehensive theory,
the more fully he perceives that there is a higher reason, of which his own
is but the humbler interpreter, and into whose depths he may penetrate
continually further, to discover yet more profound and invariable order and
system, always indicating still deeper and more hidden abysses yet
unfathomed, but throughout which he is assured the same recondite and
immutable arrangement ever prevails.
"That which requires thought and reason to understand must be itself
thought and reason. That which mind alone can investigate or express must
be itself mind. And if the highest conception attained is but partial, then
the mind and reason studied is greater than the mind and reason of the
student. If the more it be studied the more vast and complex is the
necessary connection in reason disclosed, then the more evident is the vast
extent and compass of the intelligence thus partially manifested, and its
reality, as _existing in the immutably connected order of objects
examined_, independently of the mind of the investigator.
"But considerations of this kind, just and transcendently important as they
are in themselves, give us no aid in any inquiry into the _origin_ of the
order of things thus investigated, or the _nature_ or other attributes of
the mind evinced in them.
"The real argument for universal _intelligence_, manifested in the
universality of order and law in the material world, is very different from
any attempt to give a form to our conceptions, even by the language of
analogy, as to the _nature_ or _mode of existence_ or operation of that
intelligence [_i.e._, as I have stated the case, the argument can only rest
on a study of the _products_, as distinguished from the _processes_ of such
intelligence]: and still more different from any extension of our inference
from what _is_ to what _may have been_, from _present_ order to a supposed
_origination_, first adjustment, or planning of that order.
"By keeping these distinctions steadily in view, we appreciate properly
both the limits and the extent and compass of what we may appropriately
call COSMOTHEOLOGY."[19]
I have quoted these passages at length, because they convey in a more
forcible, guarded, and accurate manner than any others with which I am
acquainted, the strictly rational standing of this great subject prior to
the date at which the above-quoted passage was written. Therefore, as I
have said, if it had been my lot to have lived in the last generation, I
should certainly have rested in these "sublime conceptions" as in an
argument supreme and irrefutable. I should have felt that the progress of
physical knowledge could never exert any other influence on Theism than
that of ever tending more and more to confirm that magnificent belief, by
continuously expanding our human thoughts into progressively advancing
conceptions, ever grander and yet more grand, of that tremendous Origin of
Things--the Mind of God. Such would have been my hope--such would have been
my prayer. But now, how changed! Never in the history of man has so
terrific a calamity befallen the race as that which all who look may now
behold advancing as a deluge, black with destruction, resistless in might,
uprooting our most cherished hopes, engulfing our most precious creed, and
burying our highest life in mindless desolation. Science, whom erstwhile we
thought a very Angel of God, pointing to that great barrier of Law, and
proclaiming to the restless sea of changing doubt, "Hitherto shalt thou
come, but no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed,"--even
Science has now herself thrown down this trusted barrier; the flood-gates
of infidelity are open, and Atheism overwhelming is upon us.
§ 30. All and every law follows as a necessary consequence from the
persistence of force and the primary qualities of matter.[20] That this
must be so is evident if we consider that, were it not so, force could not
be permanent nor matter constant. For instance, if action and reaction were
not invariably equal and opposite, force would not be invariably
persistent, seeing that in no case can the formula fail, unless some one or
other of the forces concerned, or parts of them, disappear. And as with a
simple law of this kind, so with every other natural law and
inter-operation of laws, howsoever complex such inter-operation may be; for
it is manifest that if in any case similar antecedents did not determine
similar consequents, on one or other of these occasions some quantum of
force, or of matter, or of both, must have disappeared--or, which is the
same thing, the law of causation cannot have been constant. Every natural
law, therefore, may be defined as the formula of a sequence, which must
either ensue upon certain forces of a given intensity impinging upon
certain given quantities, kinds, and forms of matter, or else, by not
ensuing, prove that the force or the matter concerned were not of a
permanent nature.
§ 31. The argument, then, which was elaborated in § 29, and which has so
long and so generally received the popular sanction in the common-sense
epitome, that in the last record there must be mind in external nature,
since "that which it requires thought and reason to understand must itself
be thought and reason,"--this argument, I say, must now for ever be
abandoned by reasonable men. No doubt it would be easy to point to several
speculative thinkers who have previously combated this argument,[21] and
from this fact some readers will perhaps be inclined to judge, from a false
analogy, that as the argument in question has withstood previous assaults,
it need not necessarily succumb to the present one. Be it observed,
however, that the present assault differs from all previous assaults, just
as demonstration differs from speculation. What has hitherto been but mere
guess and unwarrantable assertion has now become a matter of the greatest
certainty. That the argument from General Laws is a futile argument, is no
longer a matter of unverifiable opinion: it is as sure as is the most
fundamental axiom of science. That the argument will long remain in
illogical minds, I doubt not; but that it is from henceforth quite
inadmissible in accurate thinking, there can be no question. For the sake,
however, of impressing this fact still more strongly upon such readers as
have been accustomed to rely upon this argument, and so find it difficult
thus abruptly to reverse the whole current of their thoughts,--for the sake
of such, I shall here add a few remarks with the view of facilitating the
conception of an universal Order existing independently of Mind.
§ 32. Interpreting the mazy nexus of phenomena only by the facts which
science has revealed, and what conclusion are we driven to accept? Clearly,
looking to what has been said in the last two sections, that from the time
when the process of evolution first began,--from the time before the
condensation of the nebula had showed any signs of commencing,--every
subsequent change or event of evolution was _necessarily bound_ to ensue;
else force and matter have not been persistent. How then, it will be asked,
did the vast nexus of natural laws which is now observable ever begin or
continue to be? In this way. When the first womb of things was pregnant
with all the future, there would probably have been existent at any rate
not more than one of the formulæ which we now call natural laws. This one
law, of course, would have been the law of gravitation. Here we may take
our stand. It does not signify whether there ever was a time when
gravitation was not,--_i.e._, if ever there was a time when matter, _as we
now know it_, was not in existence;--for if there ever was such a time,
there is no reason to doubt, but every reason to conclude, that the
evolution of matter, as we now know it, was accomplished in accordance with
law. Similarly, we are not concerned with the question as to how the law of
gravitation came to be associated with matter; for it is overwhelmingly
probable, from the extent of the analogy, that if our knowledge concerning
molecular physics were sufficiently great, the existence of the law in
question would be found to follow as a necessary deduction from the primary
qualities of matter and force, just as we can now see that, when present,
its peculiar quantitative action necessarily follows from the primary
qualities of space.
Starting, then, with these data,--matter, force, and the law of
gravitation,--what must happen? We have the strongest scientific reason to
believe that the matter of the solar system primordially existed in a
highly diffused or nebulous form. By mutual gravitation, therefore, all the
substance of the nebula must have begun to concentrate upon itself, or to
condense. Now, from this point onwards, I wish it to be clearly understood
that the mere consideration of the supposed facts not admitting of
scientific proof, or of scientific explanation if true, in no wise affects
the certainty of the doctrine which these facts are here adduced to
establish. Fully granting that the alleged facts are not beyond dispute,
and that, even if true, innumerable other unknown and unknowable facts must
have been associated with them--fully admitting, in short, that our ideas
concerning the genesis of the solar system are of the crudest and least
trustworthy character; still, if it be admitted, what at the present day
only ignorance or prejudice can deny, viz., that, as a whole, evolution has
been the method of the universe; then it follows that the doctrine here
contended for is as certainly true as it would be were we fully acquainted
with every cause and every change which has acted and ensued throughout the
whole process of the genesis of things.
Now, bearing this caveat in mind, we have next to observe that when once
the nebula began to condense, new relations among its constituent parts
would, _for this reason_, begin to be established. "Given a rare and widely
diffused mass of nebulous matter,... what are the successive changes that
will take place? Mutual gravitation will approximate its atoms, but their
approximation will be opposed by atomic repulsion, the overcoming of which
implies the evolution of heat." That is to say, the condensation of the
nebula as a whole of necessity implies at least the origination of these
new material and dynamical relations among its constituent parts. "As fast
as this heat partially escapes by radiation, further approximation will
take place, attended by further evolution of heat, and so on continuously:
the processes not occurring separately, as here described, but
simultaneously, uninterruptedly, and with increasing activity." Hence the
newly established relations continuously acquire new increments of
intensity. But now observe a more important point. The previous essential
conditions remaining unaltered--viz., the persistence of matter and force,
as well as, or rather let us say and consequently, the law of
gravitation--these conditions, I say, remaining constant, and the newly
established relations would necessarily _of themselves_ give origin to
_new_ laws. For whenever two given quantities of force and matter met in
one of the novel relations, they would of necessity give rise to novel
effects; and whenever, on any future occasion, similar quantities of force
and matter again so met, precisely similar effects would of necessity
require to occur: but the occurrence of similar effects under similar
conditions is all that we mean by a natural law.
Continuing, then, our quotation from Mr. Herbert Spencer's terse and lucid
exposition of the nebular theory, we find this doctrine virtually embodied
in the next sentences:--"Eventually this slow movement of the atoms towards
their common centre of gravity will bring about phenomena of another order.
"Arguing from the known laws of atomic combination, it will happen that,
when the nebulous mass has reached a particular stage of condensation--when
its internally situated atoms have approached to within certain distances,
have generated a certain amount of heat, and are subject to a certain
mutual pressure (the heat and pressure increasing as the aggregation
progresses), some of them will suddenly enter into chemical union. Whether
the binary atoms so produced be of kinds such as we know, which is
possible, or whether they be of kinds simpler than any we know, which is
more probable, matters not to the argument. It suffices that molecular
combinations of some species will finally take place." We have, then, here
a new and important change of relations. Matter, primordially uniform, has
itself become heterogeneous; and in as many places as it has thus changed
its state, it must, in virtue of the fact, give rise to other hitherto
novel relations, and so, in many cases, to new laws.[22]
It would be tedious and unnecessary to trace this genesis of natural law
any further: indeed, it would be quite impossible so to trace it for any
considerable distance without feeling that the ever-multiplying mazes of
relations renders all speculation as to the actual processes quite useless.
This fact, however, as before insisted, in no wise affects the only
doctrine which I here enunciate--viz., that the self-generation of natural
law is a necessary corollary from the persistence of matter and force. And
that this must be so is now, I hope, sufficiently evident. Just as in the
first dawn of things, when the proto-binary compounds of matter gave rise
to new relations together with their appropriate laws, so throughout the
whole process of evolution, as often as matter acquired a hitherto novel
state, or in one of its old states entered into hitherto novel relations,
so often would non-existent or even impossible laws become at once possible
and necessary. And in this way I cannot see that there is any reason to
stop until we arrive at all the marvellous complexity of things as they
are. For aught that speculative reason can ever from henceforth show to the
contrary, the evolution of all the diverse phenomena of inorganic nature,
of life, and of mind, appears to be as necessary and as self-determined as
is the being of that mysterious Something which is Everything,--the Entity
we must all believe in, which without condition and beyond relation holds
its existence in itself.
§ 33. Does it still seem incredible that, notwithstanding it requires
mental processes to interpret external nature, external nature may
nevertheless be destitute of mind? Then let us look at the subject on its
obverse aspect.
According to the theory of evolution--which, be it always remembered, is no
mere gratuitous supposition, but a genuine scientific theory--human
intelligence, like everything else, has been evolved. Now in what does the
evolution of intelligence consist? Any one acquainted with the writings of
our great philosopher can have no hesitation in answering: Clearly and only
in the establishment of more and more numerous and complex internal or
psychological relations. In other words, the law of intelligence being
"that the strengths of the inner cohesions between psychical states must be
proportionate to the persistences of the outer relations symbolised," it
follows that the development of intelligence is "secured by the one simple
principle that experience of the outer relations _produces_ inner
cohesions, and makes the inner cohesions strong in proportion as the outer
relations are persistent." Now the question before us at present is merely
this:--Must we not infer that these outer relations are regulated by mind,
seeing that order is undoubtedly apparent among them, and that it requires
mental processes on our part to interpret this order? The only legitimate
answer to this question is, that these outer relations _may_ be regulated
by mind, but that, in view of the evolution theory, we are certainly not
entitled to infer that they _are_ so regulated, _merely_ because it
requires mental processes on our part to interpret their orderly character.
For if it is true that the human mind was itself evolved by these outer
relations--ever continuously moulded into conformity with them as the prime
condition of its existence--then its process of interpreting them is but
reflecting (as it were) in consciousness these outer relations by which the
inner ones were originally produced. Granting that, as a matter of fact, an
objective macrocosm exists, and if we can prove or render probable that
this objective macrocosm is _of itself_ sufficient to evolve a subjective
microcosm, I do not see any the faintest reason for the latter to conclude
that a self-conscious intelligence is inherent in the former, merely
because it is able to trace in the macrocosm some of those orderly
objective relations by which its own corresponding subjective relations
were originally produced. If it is said that it is impossible to conceive
how, apart from mind, the orderly objective relations themselves can ever
have originated, I reply that this is merely to shift the ground of
discussion to that which occupied us in the last section: all we are now
engaged upon is,--Granting that the existence of such orderly relations is
actual, whether with or without mind to account for them; and granting also
that these relations are _of themselves_ sufficient to produce
corresponding subjective relations; then the mere fact of our conscious
intelligence being able to discover numerous and complex outer relations
answering to those which they themselves have caused in our intelligence,
does not warrant the latter in concluding that the causal connection
between intelligence and non-intelligence has ever been reversed--that
these outer relations in turn are caused by a similar conscious
intelligence. How such a thing as a conscious intelligence is possible is
another and wholly unanswerable question (though not more so than that as
to the existence of force and matter, and would not be rendered less so by
merging the fact in a hypothetical Deity); but granting, as we must, that
such an entity does exist, and supposing it to have been evolved by natural
causes, then it would appear incontestably to follow, that whether or not
objective existence is presided over by objective mind, our subjective mind
would _alike_ and _equally_ require to read in the facts of the external
world an indication, whether true or false, of some such presiding agency.
The subjective mind being, by the supposition, but the obverse aspect of
the sum total of such among objective relations as have had a share in its
production, when, as in observation and reflection, this obverse aspect is
again inverted upon its die, it naturally fits more or less exactly into
all the prints.
§ 34. This last illustration, however, serves to introduce us to another
point. The supposed evidence from which the existence of mind in nature is
inferred does not always depend upon such minute correspondences between
subjective method and objective method as the illustration suggests. Every
natural theologian has experienced more or less difficulty in explaining
the fact, that while there is a tolerably general similarity between the
contrivances due to human thought and the apparent contrivances in nature
which he regards as due to divine thought, the similarity is nevertheless
_only_ general. For instance, if a man has occasion to devise any
artificial appliance, he does so with the least possible cost of labour to
himself, and with the least possible expenditure of material. Yet it is
obvious that in nature as a whole no such economic considerations obtain.
Doubtless by superficial minds this assertion will be met at first with an
indignant denial: they have been accustomed to accumulate instances of this
very principle of economy in nature; perhaps written about it in books, and
illustrated it in lectures,--totally ignoring the fact that the instances
of economy in nature bear no proportion at all to the instances of
prodigality. Conceive of the force which is being quite uselessly expended
by all the wind-currents which are at this moment blowing over the face of
Europe. Imagine the energy that must have been dissipated during the
secular cooling of this single planet. Feebly try to think of what the sun
is radiating into space. If it is retorted that we are incompetent to judge
of the purposes of the Almighty, I reply that this is but to abandon the
argument from economy whenever it is found untenable: we presume to be
competent judges of almighty purposes so long as they appear to imitate our
own; but so soon as there is any divergence observable, we change front. By
thus selecting all the instances of economy in nature, and disregarding all
the vastly greater instances of reckless waste, we are merely laying
ourselves open to the charge of an unfair eclecticism. And this formal
refutation of the argument from economy admits of being further justified
in a strikingly substantial manner; for if all the examples of economy in
nature that were ever observed, or admit being observed, were collected
into one view, I undertake to affirm that, without exception, they would be
found to marshal themselves in one great company--the subjects whose law is
_survival of the fittest_. One question only will I here ask. Is it
possible at the present day for any degree of prejudice, after due
consideration, to withstand the fact that the solitary exceptions to the
universal prodigality so painfully conspicuous in nature are to be found
where there is also to be found a full and adequate physical explanation of
their occurrence?
But, again, prodigality is only one of several particulars wherein the
modes and the means of the supposed divine intelligence differ from those
of its human counterpart. Comparative anatomists can point to organic
structures which are far from being theoretically perfect: even the mind of
man in these cases, notwithstanding its confessed deficiencies in respect
both of cognitive and cogitative powers, is competent to suggest
improvements to an intelligence supposed to be omniscient and all-wise! And
what shall we say of the numerous cases in which the supposed purposes of
this intelligence could have been attained by other and less roundabout
means? In short, not needlessly to prolong discussion, it is admitted, even
by natural theologians themselves, that the difficulties of reconciling,
even approximately, the supposed processes of divine thought with the known
processes of human thought are quite insuperable. The fact is expressed by
such writers in various ways,--_e.g._, that it would be presumptuous in man
to expect complete conformity in all cases; that the counsels of God are
past finding out; that his ways are not as our ways, and so on. Observing
only, as before, that in thus ignoring adverse cases natural theologians
are guilty of an unfair eclecticism, it is evident that all such
expressions concede the fact, that even in those provinces of nature where
the evidence of superhuman intelligence appears most plain, the resemblance
of its apparent products to those of human intelligence consists in a
general approximation of method rather than in any precise similarity of
particulars: the likeness is generic rather than specific.
Now this is exactly what we should expect to be the case, if the similarity
in question be due to the cause which the present section endeavours to set
forth. If all natural laws are self-evolved, and if human intelligence is
but a subjective photograph of certain among their interrelations, it seems
but natural that when this photograph compares itself with the whole
external world from parts of which it was taken, its subjective lights and
shadows should be found to correspond with some of the objective lights and
shadows much more perfectly than with others. Still there would doubtless
be sufficient general conformity to lead the thinking photograph to
conclude that the great world of objective reality, instead of being the
_cause_ of such conformity as exists, was itself the _effect_ of some
common cause,--that it too was of the nature of a picture. Dropping the
figure, if it is true that human intelligence has been evolved by natural
law, then in view of all that has been said it must now, I think, be
tolerably apparent, _that as by the hypothesis human intelligence has
always been required to think and to act in conformity with law, human
intelligence must at last be in danger of confusing or identifying the fact
of action in conformity with law with the existence and the action of a
self-conscious intelligence. Reading then in external nature innumerable
examples of action in conformity with law, human intelligence falls back
upon the unwarrantable identification, and out of the bare fact that law
exists in nature concludes that beyond nature there is an Intelligent
Lawgiver._
§ 35. From what has been said in the last five sections, it manifestly
follows that all the varied phenomena of the universe not only may, but
must, depend upon the persistence of force and the primary qualities of
matter.[23] Be it remembered that the object of the last three sections was
merely to "_facilitate conception_" of the fact that it does not at all
follow, because the phenomena of external nature admit of being
intelligently inquired into, therefore they are due to an intelligent
cause. The last three sections are hence in a manner parenthetical, and it
is of comparatively little importance whether or not they have been
successful in their object; for, from what went before, it is abundantly
manifest that, whether or not the subjective side of the question admits of
satisfactory elucidation, there can be no doubt that the objective side of
it is as certain as are the fundamental axioms of science. It does not
admit of one moment's questioning that it is as certainly true that all the
exquisite beauty and melodious harmony of nature follow as necessarily and
as inevitably from the persistence of force and the primary qualities of
matter, as it is certainly true that force is persistent, or that matter is
extended and impenetrable. No doubt this generalisation is too vast to be
adequately conceived, but there can be equally little doubt that it is
necessarily true. If matter and force have been eternal, so far as human
mind can soar it can discover no need of a superior mind to explain the
varied phenomena of existence. Man has truly become in a new sense the
measure of the universe, and in this the latest and most appalling of his
soundings, indications are returned from the infinite voids of space and
time by which he is surrounded, that his intelligence, with all its noble
capacities for love and adoration, is yet alone--destitute of kith or kin
in all this universe of being.
* * * * *
CHAPTER V.
THE LOGICAL STANDING OF THE QUESTION AS TO THE BEING OF A GOD.
§ 36. But the discussion must not end here. Inexorable logic has forced us
to conclude that, viewing the question as to the existence of a God only by
the light which modern science has shed upon it, there no longer appears to
be any semblance of an argument in its favour. Let us then turn upon
science herself, and question her right to be our sole guide in this
matter. Undoubtedly we have no alternative but to conclude that the
hypothesis of mind in nature is now logically proved to be as certainly
superfluous is the very basis of all science is certainly true. There can
no longer be any more doubt that the existence of a God is wholly
unnecessary to explain any of the phenomena of the universe, than there is
doubt that if I leave go of my pen it will fall upon the table. Nay, the
doubt is even less than this, because while the knowledge that my pen will
fall if I allow it to do so is founded chiefly upon empirical knowledge (I
could not predict with _à priori_ certainty that it would so fall, for the
pen might be in an electrical state, or subject to some set of unknown
natural laws antagonistic to gravity), the knowledge that a Deity is
superfluous as an explanation of anything, being grounded on the doctrine
of the persistence of force, is grounded on an _à priori_ necessity of
reason--_i.e._, if this fact were not so, our science, our thought, our
very existence itself, would be scientifically impossible.
But now, having thus stated the case as strongly as I am able, it remains
to question how far the authority of science extends. Even our knowledge of
the persistence of force and of the primary qualities of matter is but of
relative significance. Deeper than the foundations of our experience,
"deeper than demonstration--deeper even than definite cognition,--deep as
the very nature of mind,"[24] are these the most ultimate of known truths;
but where from this is our warrant for concluding with certainty that these
known truths are everywhere and eternally true? It will be said that there
is a strong analogical probability. Perhaps so, but of this next: I am not
now speaking of probability; I am speaking of certainty; and unless we deny
the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge, we cannot but conclude that
there is no absolute certainty in this case. As I deem this consideration
one of great importance, I shall proceed to develop it at some length. It
will be observed, then, that the consideration really amounts to
this:--Although it must on all hands be admitted that the fact of the
theistic hypothesis not being required to explain any of the phenomena of
nature is a fact which has been demonstrated _scientifically_, nevertheless
it must likewise on all hands be admitted that this fact has not, and
cannot be, demonstrated _logically_. Or thus, although it is unquestionably
true that so far as science can penetrate she cannot discern any
speculative necessity for a God, it may nevertheless be true that if
science could penetrate further she might discern some such necessity. Now
the present discussion would clearly be incomplete if it neglected to
define as carefully this the logical standing of our subject, as it has
hitherto endeavoured to define its scientific standing. As a final step in
our analysis, therefore, we must altogether quit the region of experience,
and, ignoring even the very foundations of science and so all the most
certain of relative truths, pass into the transcendental region of purely
formal considerations. In this region theist and atheist must alike consent
to forego all their individual predilections, and, after regarding the
subject as it were in the abstract and by the light of pure logic alone,
finally come to an agreement as to the transcendental probability of the
question before them. Disregarding the actual probability which they
severally feel to exist in relation to their own individual intelligences,
they must apply themselves to ascertain the probability which exists in
relation to those fundamental laws of thought which preside over the
intelligence of our race. In fine, it will now, I hope, be understood that,
as we have hitherto been endeavouring to determine, by deductions drawn
from the very foundations of all possible science, the _relative_
probability as to the existence of a God, so we shall next apply ourselves
to the task of ascertaining the _absolute_ probability of such
existence--or, more correctly, what is the strictly _formal_ probability of
such existence when its possibility is contemplated in an absolute sense.
§ 37. To begin then. In the last resort, the value of every probability is
fixed by "ratiocination." In endeavouring, therefore, to fix the degree of
strictly formal probability that is present in any given case, our method
of procedure should be, first to ascertain the ultimate ratios on which the
probability depends, and then to estimate the comparative value of these
ratios. Now I think there can be no doubt that the value of any probability
in this its last analysis is determined by the number, the importance, and
the definiteness of the relations known, as compared with those of the
relations unknown; and, consequently, that in all cases where the sum of
the unknown relations is larger, or more important, or more indefinite than
is the sum of the known relations, it is an essential principle that the
value of the probability decreases in exact proportion to the decrease in
the similarity between the two sets of relations, whether this decrease
consists in the number, in the importance, or in the definiteness of the
relations involved. This rule or canon is self-evident as soon as pointed
out, and has been formulated by Professor Bain in his "Logic" when treating
of Analogy, but not with sufficient precision; for, while recognising the
elements of number and importance, he has overlooked that of definiteness.
This element, however, is a very essential one--indeed the most essential
of the three; for there are many analogical inferences in which either the
character or the extent of the unknown relations is quite indefinite; and
it is obvious that, whenever this is the case, the value of the analogy is
proportionably diminished, and diminished in a much more material
particular than it is when the diminution of value arises from a mere
excess of the unknown relations over the known ones in respect of their
number or of their importance. For it is evident that, in the latter case,
however little value the analogy may possess, the exact degree of such
value admits of being _determined_; while it is no less evident that, in
the former case, we are precluded from estimating the value of the analogy
at all, and this just in proportion to the indefiniteness of the unknown
relations.
§ 38. Now the particular instance with which we are concerned is somewhat
peculiar. Notwithstanding we have the entire sphere of human experience
from which to argue, we are still unable to gauge the strictly logical
probability of any argument whatsoever; for the unknown relations in this
case are so wholly indefinite, both as to their character and extent, that
any attempt to institute a definite comparison between them and the known
relations is felt at once to be absurd. The question discussed, being the
most ultimate of all possible questions, must eventually contain in itself
all that is to man unknown and unknowable; the whole orbit of human
knowledge is here insufficient to obtain a parallax whereby to institute
the required measurements.
§ 39. I think it is desirable to insist upon this truth at somewhat greater
length, and, for the sake of impressing it still more deeply, I shall
present it in another form. No one can for a single moment deny that,
beyond and around the sphere of the Knowable, there exists the unfathomable
abyss of the Unknowable. I do not here use this latter word as embodying
any theory: I merely wish it to state the undoubted fact, which all must
admit, viz., that beneath all our possible explanations there lies a great
Inexplicable. Now let us see what is the effect of making this necessary
admission. In the first place, it clearly follows that, while our
conceptions as to what the Unknowable contains may or may not represent the
truth, it is certain that we can never discover whether or not they do.
Further, it is impossible for us to determine even a definite _probability_
as to the existence (much less the nature) of anything which we may suppose
the Unknowable to contain. We may, of course, perceive that such and such a
supposition is more _conceivable_ than such and such; but, as already
indicated, the fact does not show that the one is in itself more definitely
_probable_ than the other, unless it has been previously shown, either that
the capacity of our conceptions is a _fully adequate measure_ of the
Possible, or that the proportion between such capacity and the extent of
the Possible is a proportion that can be _determined_. In either of these
cases, the Conceivable would be a fair measure of the Possible: in the
former case, an exact equivalent (_e.g._, in any instance of contradictory
propositions, the most conceivable would _certainly_ be true); in the
latter case, a measure any degree less than an exact equivalent--the degree
depending upon the _then_ ascertainable disparity between the extent of the
Possible and the extent of the Conceivable. Now the Unknowable (including
of course the Inconceivable Existent) is a species of the Possible, and in
its name carries the declaration that the disparity between its extent and
the extent of the Conceivable (_i.e._, the other species of the Possible)
is a disparity that cannot be determined. We are hence driven to the
conclusion that the most apparently probable of all propositions, if
predicated of anything within the Unknowable, may not in reality be a whit
more so than is the most apparently improbable proposition which it is
possible to make; for if it is admitted (as of course it must be) that we
are necessarily precluded from comparing the extent of the Conceivable with
that of the Unknowable, then it necessarily follows that in no case
whatever are we competent to judge how far an _apparent_ probability
relating to the latter province is an _actual_ probability. In other words,
did we know the proportion subsisting between the Conceivable and the
Unknowable in respect of relative extent and character, and so of inherent
probabilities, we should then be able to estimate the actual value of any
apparent probability relating to the latter province; but, as it is, our
ability to make this estimate varies inversely as our inability to estimate
our ignorance in this particular. And as our ignorance in this particular
is total--_i.e._, since we cannot even approximately determine the
proportion that subsists between the Conceivable and the Unknowable,--the
result is that our ability to make the required estimate in any given case
is absolutely _nil_.
§ 40. I have purposely rendered this presentation in terms of the highest
abstraction, partly to avoid the possibility of any one, whatever his
theory of things may be, finding anything at which to object, and partly in
order that my meaning may be understood to include all things which are
beyond the range of possible knowledge. Most of all, therefore, must this
presentation (if it contains anything of truth) apply to the question
regarding the existence of Deity; for the _Ens Realissimum_ must of all
things be furthest removed from the range of possible knowledge. Hence, if
this presentation contains anything of truth--and of its rigidly accurate
truth I think there can be no question--the assertion that the
Self-existing Substance is a Personal and Intelligent Being, and the
assertion that this Substance is an Impersonal and Non-Intelligent Being,
are alike assertions wholly destitute of any assignable degree of logical
probability, I say _assignable_ degree of logical probability, because that
_some_ degree of such probability may exist I do not undertake to deny. All
I assert is, that if we are here able to institute any such probability at
all, we are unable logically to assign to it any determinate degree of
value. Or, in other words, although we may establish some probability in a
sense relative to ourselves, we are unable to know how far this probability
is a probability in an absolute sense. Or again, the case is not as though
we were altogether unacquainted with the Possible. Experience undoubtedly
affords us some information regarding this, although, comparatively
speaking, we are unable to know how much. Consequently, we must suppose
that, in any given case, it is more likely that the Conceivable should be
Possible than that the Inconceivable should be so, and that the Conceivably
Probable should exist than that the Conceivably Improbable should do so: in
neither case, however, can we know _what degree_ of such likelihood is
present.
§ 41. From the foregoing considerations, then, it would appear that the
only attitude which in strict logic it is admissible to adopt towards the
question concerning the being of a God is that of "suspended judgment."
Formally speaking, it is alike illegitimate to affirm or to deny
Intelligence as an attribute of the Ultimate. And here I would desire it to
be observed, that this is the attitude which the majority of
scientifically-trained philosophers actually have adopted with regard to
this matter. I am not aware, however, that any one has yet endeavoured to
formulate the justification of this attitude; and as I think there can be
no doubt that the above presentation contains in a logical shape the whole
of such justification, I cannot but think that some important ends will
have been secured by it. For we are here in possession, not merely of a
vague and general impression that the Ultimate is super-scientific, and so
beyond the range of legitimate prediction; but we are also in possession of
a logical formula whereby at once to vindicate the rationality of our
opinion, and to measure the precise degree of its technical value.
* * * * *
CHAPTER VI.
THE ARGUMENT FROM METAPHYSICAL TELEOLOGY.
§ 42. Let us now proceed to examine the effect of the formal considerations
which have been adduced in the last chapter on the scientific
considerations which were dealt with in the previous chapters. In these
previous chapters the proposition was clearly established that, just as
certainly as the fundamental data of science are true, so certainly is it
true that the theory of Theism in any shape is, scientifically considered,
superfluous; for these chapters have clearly shown that, if there is a God,
his existence, considered as a cause of things, is as certainly unnecessary
as it is certainly true that force is persistent and that matter is
indestructible. But after this proposition had been carefully justified, it
remained to show that the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge compelled
us to carry our discussion into a region of yet higher abstraction. For
although we observed that the essential qualities of matter and of force
are the most ultimate data of human knowledge, and although, by showing how
far the question of Theism depended on these data, we carried the
discussion of that question to the utmost possible limits of scientific
thought, it still devolved on us to contemplate the fact that even these
the most ultimate data of science are only known to be of relative
significance. And the bearing of this fact to the question of Theism was
seen to be most important. For, without waiting to recapitulate the
substance of a chapter so recently concluded, it will be remembered that
its effect was to establish this position beyond all controversy--viz.,
that when ideas which have been formed by our experience within the region
of phenomenal actuality are projected into the region of ontological
possibility, they become utterly worthless; seeing that we can never have
any means whereby to test the actual value of whatever transcendental
probabilities they may appear to establish. Therefore it is that even the
most ultimate of relative truths with which, as we have seen, the question
of Theism is so vitally associated, is almost without meaning when
contemplated in an absolute sense. What, then, is the effect of these
metaphysical considerations on the position of Theism as we have seen it to
be left by the highest generalisations of physical science? Let us
contemplate this question with the care which it deserves.
In the first place, it is evident that the effect of these purely formal
considerations is to render all reasonings on the subject of Theism equally
illegitimate, unless it is constantly borne in mind that such reasonings
can only be of relative signification. Thus, as a matter of pure logic,
these considerations are destructive of all assignable validity of any such
reasoning whatsoever. Still, even a strictly relative probability is, in
some undefinable degree, of more value than no probability at all, as we
have seen these same formal considerations to show (see § 40); and,
moreover, even were this not so, the human mind will never rest until it
attains to the furthest probability which to its powers is accessible.
Therefore, if we do not forget the merely relative nature of the
considerations which are about to be adduced, by adducing them we may at
the same time satisfy our own minds and abstain from violating the
conditions of sound logic.
The shape, then, to which the subject has now been reduced is simply
this:--Seeing that the theory of Evolution in its largest sense has shown
the theory of Theism to be superfluous in a scientific sense, does it not
follow that the theory of Theism is thus shown to be superfluous in any
sense? For it would seem from the discussion, so far as it has hitherto
gone, that the only rational basis on which the theory of Theism can rest
is a basis of teleology; and if, as has been clearly shown, the theory of
evolution, by deducing the genesis of natural law from the primary data of
science, irrevocably destroys this basis, does it not follow that the
theory of evolution has likewise destroyed the theory which rested on that
basis? Now I conclude, as stated at the close of Chapter IV., that the
question here put must certainly be answered in the affirmative, so far as
its scientific aspect is concerned. But when we consider the question in
its purely logical aspect, as we have done in Chapter V., the case is
otherwise. For although, so far as the utmost reach of scientific vision
enables us to see, we can discern no evidence of Deity, it does not
therefore follow that beyond the range of such vision Deity does not exist.
Science indeed has proved that if there is a Divine Mind in nature, and if
by the hypothesis such a Mind exerts any causative influence on the
phenomena of nature, such influence is exerted beyond the sphere of
experience. And this achievement of science, be it never forgotten, is an
achievement of prodigious importance, effectually destroying, as it does,
all vestiges of a scientific teleology. But be it now carefully observed,
although all vestiges of a _scientific_ teleology are thus completely and
permanently ruined, the formal considerations adduced in the last chapter
supply the conditions for constructing what may be termed a _metaphysical_
teleology. I use these terms advisedly, because I think they will serve to
bring out with great clearness the condition to which our analysis of the
teleological argument has now been reduced.
§ 43. In the first place, let it be understood that I employ the terms
"scientific" and "metaphysical" in the convenient sense in which they are
employed by Mr. Lewes, viz., as respectively designating a theory that is
verifiable and a theory that is not. Consequently, by the term "scientific
teleology" I mean to denote a form of teleology which admits either of
being proved or disproved, while by the term "metaphysical teleology" I
mean to denote a form of teleology which does not admit either of being
proved or of being disproved. Now, with these significations clearly
understood, it will be seen that the forms of teleology which we have
hitherto considered belong entirely to the scientific class. That the
Paleyerian form of the argument did so is manifest, first because this
argument itself treats the problem of Theism as a problem that is
susceptible of scientific demonstration, and next because we have seen that
the advance of science has proved this argument susceptible of scientific
refutation. In other words, from the supposed axiom, "There cannot be
apparent design without a designer," adaptations in nature become logically
available as purely scientific evidence of an intelligent cause; and that
Paley himself regarded them exclusively in this light is manifest, both
from his own "statement of the argument," and from the character of the
evidence by which he seeks to establish the argument when stated--witness
the typical passage before quoted (§ 26). On the other hand, we have
clearly seen that this Paleyerian system of natural theology has been
effectually demolished by the scientific theory of natural selection--the
fundamental axiom of the former having been shown by the latter to be
scientifically untrue. Hence the term "scientific teleology" is without
question applicable to the Paleyerian system.
Nor is the case essentially different with the more refined form of the
teleological argument which we have had to consider--the argument, namely,
from General Laws. For here, likewise, we have clearly seen that the
inference from the ubiquitous operation of General Laws to the existence of
an omniscient Law-maker is quite as illegitimate as is the inference from
apparent Design to the existence of a Supreme Designer. In other words,
science, by establishing the doctrine of the persistence of force and the
indestructibility of matter, has effectually disproved the hypothesis that
the presence of Law in nature is of itself sufficient to prove the
existence of an intelligent Law-giver.
Thus it is that scientific teleology in any form is now and for ever
obsolete. But not so with what I have termed metaphysical teleology. For as
we have seen that the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge precludes us
from asserting, or even from inferring, that beyond the region of the
Knowable Mind does not exist, it remains logically possible to institute a
metaphysical hypothesis that beyond this region of the Knowable Mind does
exist. There being a necessary absence of any positive information whereby
to refute this metaphysical hypothesis, any one who chooses to adopt it is
fully justified in doing so, provided only he remembers that the purely
metaphysical quality whereby the hypothesis is ensured against disproof,
likewise, and in the same degree, precludes it from the possibility of
proof. He must remember that it is no longer open to him to point to any
particular set of general laws and to assert, these proclaim Intelligence
as their cause; for we have repeatedly seen that the known states of matter
and force themselves afford sufficient explanation of the facts to which he
points. And he must remember that the only reason why his hypothesis does
not conflict with any of the truths known to science, is because he has
been careful to rest that hypothesis upon a basis of purely formal
considerations, which lie beyond even the most fundamental truths of which
science is cognisant.
Thus, for example, he may present his metaphysical theory of Theism in some
such terms as these:--'Fully conceding what reason shows must be conceded,
and there still remains this possible supposition--viz., that there is a
presiding Mind in nature, which exerts its causative influence beyond the
sphere of experience, thus rendering it impossible for us to obtain
scientific evidence of its action. For such a Mind, exerting such an
influence beyond experience, may direct affairs within experience by
methods conceivable or inconceivable to us--producing, possibly,
innumerable and highly varied results, which in turn may produce their
effects within experience, their introduction being then, of course, in the
ordinary way of natural law. For instance, there can be no question that by
the intelligent creation or dissipation of energy, all the phenomena of
cosmic evolution might have been directed, and, for aught that science can
show to the contrary, thus only rendered possible. Hence there is at least
one nameable way in which, even in accordance with observed facts, a
Supreme Mind could be competent to direct the phenomena of observable
nature. But we are not necessarily restricted to the limits of the nameable
in this matter, so that it is of no argumentative importance whether or not
this suggested method is the method which the supposed Mind actually
adopts, seeing that there may still be other possible methods, which,
nevertheless, we are unable to suggest.'
Doubtless the hypothesis of Theism, as thus presented, will be deemed by
many persons but of very slender probability. I am not, however, concerned
with whatever character of probability it may be supposed to exhibit. I am
merely engaged in carefully presenting the only hypothesis which can be
presented, if the theory as to an Intelligent Author of nature is any
longer to be maintained on grounds of a rational teleology. No doubt,
scientifically considered, the hypothesis in question is purely gratuitous;
for, so far as the light of science can penetrate, there is no need of any
such hypothesis at all. Thus it may well seem, at first sight, that no
hypothesis could well have less to recommend it; and, so far as the
presentation has yet gone, it is therefore fully legitimate for an atheist
to reply:--'All that this so-called metaphysical theory amounts to is a
wholly gratuitous assumption. No doubt it is always difficult, and usually
impossible, logically or unequivocally to prove a negative. If my adversary
chose to imagine that nature is presided over by a demon with horns and
hoofs, or by a dragon with claws and tail, I should be as unable to
disprove this his supposed theory as I am now unable to disprove his actual
theory. But in all cases reasonable men ought to be guided in their beliefs
by such positive evidence as is available; and if, as in the present case,
the alternative belief is wholly gratuitous--adopted not only without any
evidence, but against all that great body of evidence which the sum-total
of science supplies--surely we ought not to hesitate for one moment in the
choice of our creed?'
Now all this is quite sound in principle, provided only that the
metaphysical theory of Theism _is_ wholly gratuitous, in the sense of being
utterly destitute of evidential support. That it is destitute of all
_scientific_ support, we have already and repeatedly seen; but the question
remains as to whether it is similarly destitute of _metaphysical_ support.
§ 44. To this question, then, let us next address ourselves. From the
theistic pleading which we have just heard, it is abundantly manifest that
the formal conditions of a metaphysical teleology are present: the question
now before us is as to whether or not any actual evidence exists in favour
of such a theory. In order to discuss this question, let us begin by
allowing the theist to continue his pleading. 'You have shown me,' he may
say, 'that a scientific or demonstrable system of teleology is no longer
possible, and, therefore, as I have already conceded, I must take my stand
on a metaphysical or non-demonstrable system. But I reflect that the latter
term is a loose one, seeing that it embraces all possible degrees of
evidence short of actual proof. The question, therefore, I conceive to be,
What amount of evidence is there in favour of this metaphysical system of
teleology? And this question I answer by the following considerations:--As
general laws separately have all been shown to be the necessary outcome of
the primary data of science, it certainly follows that general laws
collectively must be the same--_i.e._, that the whole system of general
laws must be, so far as the lights of our science can penetrate, the
necessary outcome of the persistence of force and the indestructibility of
matter. But you have also dearly shown me that these lights are of the
feeblest conceivable character when they are brought to illuminate the
final mystery of things. I therefore feel at liberty to assert, that if
there is any one principle to be observed in the collective operation of
general laws which cannot conceivably be explained by any cause other than
that of intelligent guidance, I am still free to fall back on such a
principle and to maintain--Although the collective operation of general
laws follows as a necessary consequence from the primary data of science,
this one principle which pervades their united action, and which cannot be
conceivably explained by any hypothesis other than that of intelligent
guidance, is a principle which still remains to be accounted for; and as it
cannot conceivably be accounted for on grounds of physical science, I may
legitimately account for it on grounds of metaphysical teleology. Now I
cannot open my eyes without perceiving such a principle everywhere
characterising the collective operation of general laws. Universally I
behold in nature, order, beauty, harmony,--that is, a perfect _correlation_
among general laws. But this ubiquitous correlation among general laws,
considered as the cause of cosmic harmony, itself requires some explanatory
cause such as the persistence of force and the indestructibility of matter
cannot conceivably be made to supply. For unless we postulate some one
integrating cause, the greater the number of general laws in nature, the
less likelihood is there of such laws being so correlated as to produce
harmony by their combined action. And forasmuch as the only cause that I am
able to imagine as competent to produce such effects is that of intelligent
guidance, I accept the metaphysical hypothesis that beyond the sphere of
the Knowable there exists an Unknown God.[25]
'If it is retorted that the above argument involves an absurd
contradiction, in that while it sets out with an explicit avowal of the
fact that the collective operation of general laws follows as a necessary
consequence from the primary data of physical science, it nevertheless
afterwards proceeds to explain an effect of such collective operation by a
metaphysical hypothesis; I answer that it was expressly for the purpose of
eliciting this retort that I threw my argument into the above form. For the
position which I wish to establish is this, that fully accepting the
logical cogency of the reasoning whereby the action of every law is deduced
from the primary data of science, I wish to show that when this train of
reasoning is followed to its ultimate term, it leads us into the presence
of a fact for which it is inadequate to account. If, then, my contention be
granted--viz., that to human faculties it is not conceivable how, in the
absence of a directing intelligence, general laws could be so correlated as
to produce universal harmony--then I have brought the matter to this
issue:--Notwithstanding the scientific train of argument being complete in
itself, it still leaves us in the presence of a fact which it cannot
conceivably explain; and it is this unexplained residuum--this total
product of the operation of general laws--that I appeal to as the logical
justification for a system of metaphysical teleology--a system which offers
the only conceivable explanation of this stupendous fact.
'And here I may further observe, that the scientific train of reasoning is
of the kind which embodies what Mr. Herbert Spencer calls "symbolic
conceptions of the illegitimate order."[26] That is to say, we can see how
such simple laws as that action and reaction are equal and opposite may
have been self-evolved, and from this fact we go on generalising and
generalising, until we land ourselves in wholly symbolic and--a paradox is
here legitimate--inconceivable conceptions. Now the farther we travel into
this region of unrealisable ideas, the less trustworthy is the report that
we are able to bring back. The method is in a sense scientific; but when
even scientific method is projected into a region of really
super-scientific possibility, it ceases to have that character of undoubted
certainty which it enjoys when dealing with verifiable subjects of inquiry.
The demonstrations are formal, but they are not real.
'Therefore, looking to this necessarily suspicious character of the
scientific train of reasoning, and then observing that, even if accepted,
it leaves the fact of cosmic harmony unexplained, I maintain, that whatever
probability the phenomena of nature may in former times have been thought
to establish in favour of the theory as to an intelligent Author of nature,
that probability has been in no wise annihilated--nor apparently can it
ever be annihilated--by the advance of science. And not only so, but I
question whether this probability has been even seriously impaired by such
advance, seeing that although this advance has revealed a speculative
_raison d'être_ of the mechanical precision of nature, it has at the same
time shown the baffling complexity of nature; and therefore, in view of
what has just been said, leaves the balance of probability concerning the
existence of a God very much where it always was. For stay awhile to
contemplate this astounding complexity of harmonious nature! Think of how
much we already know of its innumerable laws and processes, and then think
that this knowledge only serves to reveal, in a glimmering way, the huge
immensity of the unknown. Try to picture the meshwork of contending rhythms
which must have been before organic nature was built up, and then let us
ask, Is it conceivable, is it credible, that all this can have been the
work of blind fate? Must we not feel that had there not been intelligent
agency at work somewhere, other and less terrifically intricate results
would have ensued? And if we further try to symbolise in thought the
unimaginable complexity of the material and dynamical changes in virtue of
which that thought itself exists,--if we then extend our symbols to
represent all the history of all the orderly changes which must have taken
place to evolve human intelligence into what it is,--and if we still
further extend our symbols to try if it be possible, even in the language
of symbols, to express the number and the subtlety of those natural laws
which now preside over the human will;--in the face of so vast an
assumption as that all this has been self-evolved, I am content still to
rest in the faith of my forefathers.'
§ 45. Now I think it must be admitted that we have here a valid argument.
That is to say, the considerations which we have just adduced must, I
think, in fairness be allowed to have established this position:--That the
system of metaphysical teleology for which we have supposed a candid theist
to plead, is something more than a purely gratuitous system--that it does
not belong to the same category of baseless imaginings as that to which the
atheist at first sight, and in view of the scientific deductions alone,
might be inclined to assign it. For we have seen that our supposed theist,
while fully admitting the formal cogency of the scientific train of
reasoning, is nevertheless able to point to a fact which, in his opinion,
lies without that train of reasoning. For he declares that it is beyond his
powers of conception to regard the complex harmony of nature otherwise than
as a product of some one integrating cause; and that the only cause of
which he is able to conceive as adequate to produce such an effect is that
of a conscious Intelligence. Pointing, therefore, to this complex harmony
of nature as to a fact which cannot to his mind be conceivably explained by
any deductions from physical science, he feels that he is justified in
explaining this fact by the aid of a metaphysical hypothesis. And in so
doing he is in my opinion perfectly justified, at any rate to this
extent--that his antagonist cannot fairly dispose of this metaphysical
hypothesis as a purely gratuitous hypothesis. How far it is a probable
hypothesis is another question, and to this question we shall now address
ourselves.
§ 46. If it is true that the deductions from physical science cannot be
conceived to explain some among the observed facts of nature, and if it is
true that these particular facts admit of being conceivably explained by
the metaphysical hypothesis in question, then, beyond all controversy, this
metaphysical hypothesis must be provisionally accepted. Let us then
carefully examine the premises which are thus adduced to justify acceptance
of this hypothesis as their conclusion.
In the first place, it is not--cannot--be denied, even by a theist, that
the deductions from physical science _do_ embrace the fact of cosmic
harmony in their explanation, seeing that, as they explain the operation of
general laws collectively, they must be regarded as also explaining every
effect of such operation. And this, as we have seen, is a consideration to
which our imaginary theist was not blind. How then did he meet it? He met
it by the considerations--1st. That the scientific train of reasoning
evolved this conclusion only by employing, in a wholly unrestricted manner,
"symbolic conceptions of the illegitimate order;" and, 2d. That when the
conclusion thus illegitimately evolved was directly confronted with the
fact of cosmic harmony which it professes to explain, he found it to be
beyond the powers of human thought to conceive of such an effect as due to
such a cause. Now, as already observed, I consider these strictures on the
scientific train of reasoning to be thoroughly valid. There can be no
question that the highly symbolic character of the conceptions which that
train of reasoning is compelled to adopt, is a source of serious weakness
to the conclusions which it ultimately evolves; while there can, I think,
be equally little doubt that there does not live a human being who would
venture honestly to affirm, that he can really conceive the fact of cosmic
harmony as exclusively due to the causes which the scientific train of
reasoning assigns. But freely conceding this much, and an atheist may
reply, that although the objections of his antagonist against this symbolic
method of reasoning are undoubtedly valid, yet, from the nature of the
case, this is the only method of scientific reasoning which is available.
If, therefore, he expresses his obligations to his antagonist for pointing
out a source of weakness in this method of reasoning--a source of weakness,
be it observed, which renders it impossible for him to estimate the actual,
as distinguished from the apparent, probability of the conclusion
attained--this is all that he can be expected to do: he cannot be expected
to abandon the only scientific method of reasoning available, in favour of
a metaphysical method which only escapes the charge of symbolism by leaping
with a single bound from a known cause (human intelligence) to the
inference of an unknowable cause (Divine Intelligence). For the atheist may
well point out that, however objectionable his scientific method of
reasoning may be on account of the symbolism which it involves, it must at
any rate be preferable to the metaphysical method, in that its symbols
throughout refer to known causes.[27] With regard, then, to this stricture
on the scientific method of reasoning, I conclude that although the caveat
which it contains should never be lost sight of by atheists, it is not of
sufficient cogency to justify theists in abandoning a scientific in favour
of a metaphysical mode of reasoning.
How then does it fare with the other stricture, or the consideration that,
"when the conclusion thus illegitimately[28] evolved is confronted with the
fact of cosmic harmony which it professes to explain, we find it to be
beyond the powers of human thought to conceive of such an effect as due to
such a cause"? The atheist may answer, in the first place, that a great
deal here turns on the precise meaning which we assign to the word
"conceive." For we have just seen that, by employing "symbolic
conceptions," we _are_ able to frame what we may term a _formal_ conception
of universal harmony as due to the persistence of force and the primary
qualities of matter. That is to say, we have seen that such universal
harmony as nature presents must be regarded as an effect of the collective
operation of general laws; and we have previously arrived at a formal
conception of general laws as singly and collectively the product of
self-evolution. Consequently, the word "conceive," as used in the theistic
argument, must be taken to mean our ability to frame what we may term a
_material_ conception, or a representation in thought of the whole history
of cosmic evolution, which representation shall be in some satisfactory
degree intellectually realisable. Observing, then, this important
difference between an inconceivability which arises from an impossibility
of establishing relations in thought between certain _abstract_ or
_symbolic_ conceptions, and an inconceivability which arises from a mere
failure to realise in imagination the results which must follow among
external relations if the symbolically conceivable combinations among them
ever took place, an atheist may here argue as follows; and it does not
appear that there is any legitimate escape from his reasonings.
'I first consider the undoubted fact that the existence of a Supreme Mind
in nature is, scientifically considered, unnecessary; and, therefore, that
the only reason we require to entertain the supposition of any such
existence at all is, that the complexity of nature being so great, we are
unable adequately to conceive of its self-evolution--notwithstanding our
reason tells us plainly that, given a self-existing universe of force and
matter, and such self-evolution becomes abstractedly possible. I then
reflect that this is a negative and not a positive ground of belief. If the
hypothesis of self-evolution is true, we should _à priori_ expect that by
the time evolution had advanced sufficiently far to admit of the production
of a reasoning intelligence, the complexity of nature must be so great that
the nascent reasoning powers would be completely baffled in their attempts
to comprehend the various processes going on around them. This seems to be
about the state of things which we now experience. Still, as reason
advances more and more, we may expect, both from general _à priori_
principles and from particular historical analogies, that more and more of
the processes of nature will admit of being interpreted by reason, and that
in proportion as our ability to _understand_ the frame and the constitution
of things progresses, so our ability to _conceive_ of them as all naturally
and necessarily evolved will likewise and concurrently progress. Thus, for
example, how vast a number of the most intricate and delicate correlations
in nature have been rendered at once intelligible and conceivably due to
non-intelligent causes, by the discovery of a single principle in
nature--the principle of natural selection.
'In the adverse argument, conceivability is again made the unconditional
test of truth, just as it was in the argument against the possibility of
matter thinking. We reject the hypothesis of self-evolution, not because it
is the more remote one, but simply because we experience a subjective
incapacity adequately to frame the requisite generalisations in thought, or
to frame them with as much clearness as we could wish. Yet our reason tells
us as plainly as it tells us any general truth which is too large to be
presented in detail, that there is nothing in the nature of things
themselves, as far as we can see, antagonistic to the supposition of their
having been self-evolved. Only on the ground, therefore, of our own
intellectual deficiencies; only because as yet, by the self-evolutionary
hypothesis, the inner order does not completely answer to the outer order;
only because the number and complexity of subjective relations have not yet
been able to rival those of the objective relations producing them; only on
this ground do we refuse to assent to the obvious deductions of our
reason.[29]
'And here I may observe, further, that the presumption in favour of atheism
which these deductions establish is considerably fortified by certain _à
posteriori_ considerations which we cannot afford to overlook. In
particular, I reflect that, as a matter of fact, the theistic theory is
born of highly suspicious parentage,--that Fetichism, or the crudest form
of the theory of personal agency in external nature, admits of being easily
traced to the laws of a primitive psychology; that the step from this to
Polytheism is easy; and that the step from this to Monotheism is necessary.
If it is objected to this view that it does not follow that because some
theories of personal agency have proved themselves false, therefore all
such theories must be so--I answer, Unquestionably not; but the above
considerations are not adduced in order to _negative_ the theistic theory:
they are merely adduced to show that the human mind has hitherto
undoubtedly exhibited an undue and a vicious tendency to interpret the
objective processes of nature in terms of its own subjective processes; and
as we can see quite well that the current theory of personal agency in
nature, whether or not true, is a necessary outcome of intellectual
evolution, I think that the fact of so abundant an historical analogy ought
to be allowed to lend a certain degree of antecedent suspicion to this
theory--although, of course, the suspicion is of a kind which would admit
of immediate destruction before any satisfactory positive evidence in
favour of the theory.[30]
'But what is 'the satisfactory positive evidence' that is offered me?
Nothing, save an alleged subjective incapacity on the part of my opponent
adequately to conceive of the fact of cosmic harmony as due to physical
causation alone. Now I have already commented on the weakness of his
position; but as my opponent will doubtless resort to the consideration
that inconceivability of an opposite is, after all, the best criterion of
truth which at any given stage of intellectual evolution is available, I
will now conclude my overthrow by pointing out that, even if we take the
argument from teleology in its widest possible sense--the argument, I mean,
from the general order and beauty of nature, as well as the gross
constituent part of it from design--even taking this argument in its widest
sense and upon its own ground (which ground, I presume, it is now
sufficiently obvious _can_ only be that of the inconceivability of its
negation), I will conclude my examination of this argument by showing that
it is quite as inconceivable to predicate cosmic harmony an effect of
Intelligence, as it is to predicate it an effect of Non-intelligence; and
therefore that the argument from inconceivability admits of being turned
with quite as terrible a force upon Theism as it can be made to exert upon
Atheism.
'"In metaphysical controversy, many of the propositions propounded and
accepted as quite believable are absolutely inconceivable. There is a
perpetual confusing of actual ideas with what are nothing but pseud-ideas.
No distinction is made between propositions that contain real thoughts and
propositions that are only the forms of thoughts. A thinkable proposition
is one of which the _two terms can be brought together in consciousness
under the relation said to exist between them_. But very often, when the
subject of a proposition has been thought of as something known, and when
the predicate of a proposition has been thought of as something known, and
when the relation alleged between them has been thought of as a known
relation, it is supposed that the proposition itself has been thought. The
thinking separately of the elements of a proposition is mistaken for the
thinking of them in the combination which the proposition affirms. And
hence it continually happens that propositions which cannot be rendered
into thought at all are supposed to be not only thought but believed. The
proposition that Evolution is caused by Mind is one of this nature. The two
terms are separately intelligible; but they can be regarded in the relation
of effect and cause only so long as no attempt is made to put them together
in this relation.
'"The only thing which any one knows as Mind is the series of his own
states of consciousness; and if he thinks of any mind other than his own,
he can think of it only in terms derived from his own. If I am asked to
frame a notion of Mind divested of all those structural traits under which
alone I am conscious of mind in myself, I cannot do it. I know nothing of
thought save as carried on in ideas originally traceable to the effects
wrought by objects on me. A mental act is an unintelligible phrase if I am
not to regard it as an act in which states of consciousness are severally
known as like other states in the series that has gone by, and in which the
relations between them are severally known as like past relations in the
series. If, then, I have to conceive evolution as caused by an 'originating
Mind,' I must conceive this Mind as having attributes akin to those of the
only mind I know, and without which I cannot conceive mind at all.
'"I will not dwell on the many incongruities hence resulting, by asking how
the 'originating Mind' is to be thought of as having states produced by
things objective to it, as discriminating among these states, and classing
them as like and unlike; and as preferring one objective result to another.
I will simply ask, What happens if we ascribe to the 'originating Mind' the
character absolutely essential to the conception of mind, that it consists
of a series of states of consciousness? Put a series of states of
consciousness as cause and the evolving universe as effect, and then
endeavour to see the last as flowing from the first. I find it possible to
imagine in some dim way a series of states of consciousness serving as
antecedent to any one of the movements I see going on; for my own states of
consciousness are often indirectly the antecedents to such movements. But
how if I attempt to think of such a series as antecedent to _all_ actions
throughout the universe--to the motions of the multitudinous stars
throughout space, to the revolutions of all their planets round them, to
the gyrations of all these planets on their axes, to the infinitely
multiplied physical processes going on in each of these suns and planets? I
cannot think of a single series of states of consciousness as causing even
the relatively small groups of actions going on over the earth's surface. I
cannot think of it even as antecedent to all the various winds and the
dissolving clouds they bear, to the currents of all the rivers, and the
grinding actions of all the glaciers; still less can I think of it as
antecedent to the infinity of processes simultaneously going on in all the
plants that cover the globe, from scattered polar lichens to crowded
tropical palms, and in all the millions of quadrupeds that roam among them,
and the millions of millions of insects that buzz about them. Even a single
small set of these multitudinous terrestrial changes I cannot conceive as
antecedent a single series of states of consciousness--cannot, for
instance, think of it as causing the hundred thousand breakers that are at
this instant curling over on the shores of England. How, then, is it
possible for me to conceive an 'originating Mind,' which I must represent
to myself as a _single_ series of states of consciousness, working the
infinitely multiplied sets of changes _simultaneously_ going on in worlds
too numerous to count, dispersed throughout a space that baffles
imagination?
'"If, to account for this infinitude of physical changes everywhere going
on, 'Mind must be conceived as there' 'under the guise of simple Dynamics,'
then the reply is, that, to be so conceived, Mind must be divested of all
attributes by which it is distinguished; and that, when thus divested of
its distinguishing attributes, the conception disappears--the word Mind
stands for a blank....
'"Clearly, therefore, the proposition that an 'originating Mind' is the
cause of evolution is a proposition that can be entertained so long only as
no attempt is made to unite in thought its two terms in the alleged
relation. That it should be accepted as a matter of _faith_ may be a
defensible position, provided good cause is shown why it should be so
accepted; but that it should be accepted as a matter of _understanding_--as
a statement making the order of the universe comprehensible--is a quite
indefensible position."'[31]
§ 47. We have now heard the pleading on both sides of the ultimate issue to
which it is possible that the argument from teleology can ever be reduced.
It therefore devolves on us very briefly to adjudicate upon the contending
opinions. And this it is not difficult to do; for throughout the pleading
on both sides I have been careful to exclude all arguments and
considerations which are not logically valid. It is therefore impossible
for me now to pass any criticisms on the pleading of either side which have
not already been passed by the pleading of the other. But nevertheless, in
my capacity of an impartial judge, I feel it desirable to conclude this
chapter with a few general considerations.
In the first place, I think that the theist's antecedent objection to a
scientific mode of reasoning on the score of its symbolism, may be regarded
as fairly balanced by the atheist's antecedent objection to a metaphysical
mode of reasoning on the score of its postulating an unknowable cause. And
it must be allowed that the force of this antecedent objection is
considerably increased by the reflection that the _kind_ of unknowable
cause which is thus postulated is that which the human mind has always
shown an overweening tendency to postulate as a cause of natural phenomena.
I think, therefore, that neither disputant has the right to regard the _à
priori_ standing of his opponent's theory as much more suspicious than that
of his own; for it is obvious that neither disputant has the means whereby
to estimate the actual value of these antecedent objections.
With regard, then, to the _à posteriori_ evidence in favour of the rival
theories, I think that the final test of their validity--_i.e._, the
inconceivability of their respective negations--fails equally in the case
of both theories; for in the case of each theory any proposition which
embodies it must itself contain an infinite, _i.e._, an
inconceivable--term. Thus, whether we speak of an Infinite Mind as the
cause of evolution, or of evolution as due to an infinite duration of
physical processes, we are alike open to the charge of employing
unthinkable propositions.
Hence, two unthinkables are presented to our choice; one of which is an
eternity of matter and of force,[32] and the other an Infinite Mind, so
that in this respect again the two theories are tolerably parallel; and
therefore, all that can be concluded with rigorous certainty upon the
subject is, that neither theory has anything to gain us against the other
from an appeal to the test of inconceivability.
Yet we have seen that this is a test than which none can be more ultimate.
What then shall we say is the final outcome of this discussion concerning
the rational standing of the teleological argument? The answer, I think, to
this question is, that in strict reasoning the teleological argument, in
its every shape, is inadequate to form a basis of Theism; or, in other
words, that the logical cogency of this argument is insufficient to justify
a wholly impartial mind in accepting the theory of Theism on so insecure a
foundation. Nevertheless, if the further question were directly put to me,
'After having heard the pleading both for and against the most refined
expression of the argument from teleology, with what degree of strictly
rational probability do you accredit it?'--I should reply as follows:--'The
question which you put I take to be a question which it is wholly
impossible to answer, and this for the simple reason that the degree of
even rational probability may here legitimately vary with the character of
the mind which contemplates it.' This statement, no doubt, sounds
paradoxical; but I think it is justified by the following considerations.
When we say that one proposition is more conceivable than another, we may
mean either of two very different things, and this quite apart from the
distinction previously drawn between symbolic conceptions and realisable
conceptions. For we may mean that one of the two propositions presents
terms which cannot possibly be rendered into thought at all in the relation
which the proposition alleges to subsist between them; or we may mean that
one of the two propositions presents terms in a relation which is more
congruous with the habitual tenor of our thoughts than does the other
proposition. Thus, as an example of the former usage, we may say, It is
more conceivable that two and two should make four than that two and two
should make five; and, as an example of the latter usage, we may say, It is
more conceivable that a man should be able to walk than that he should be
able to fly. Now, for the sake of distinction, I shall call the first of
these usages the test of _absolute_ inconceivability, and the second the
test of _relative_ inconceivability. Doubtless, when the word
"inconceivability" is used in the sense of relative inconceivability, it is
incorrectly used, unless it is qualified in some way; because, if used
without qualification, there is danger of its being confused with
inconceivability in its absolute sense. Nevertheless, if used with some
qualifying epithet, it becomes quite unexceptionable. For the process of
conception being in all cases the process of establishing relations in
thought, we may properly say, It is relatively more conceivable that a man
should walk than that a man should fly, since it is _more easy_ to
establish, the necessary relations in thought in the case of the former
than in the case of the latter proposition. The only difference, then,
between what I have called absolute inconceivability and what I have called
relative inconceivability consists in this--that while the latter admits of
_degrees_, the former does not.[33]
With this distinction clearly understood, I may now proceed to observe that
in everyday life we constantly apply the test of relative inconceivability
as a test of truth. And in the vast majority of cases this test of relative
inconceivability is, for all practical purposes, as valid a test of truth
as is the test of absolute conceivability. For as every man is more or less
in harmony with his environment, his habits of thought with regard to his
environment are for the most part stereotyped correctly; so that the most
ready and the most trustworthy gauge of probability that he has is an
immediate appeal to consciousness as to whether he _feels_ the probability.
Thus every man learns for himself to endow his own sense of probability
with a certain undefined but massive weight of authority. Now it is this
test of relative conceivability which all men apply in varying degrees to
the question of Theism. For if, from education and organised habits of
thought, the probability in this matter appears to a man to incline in a
certain direction, when this probability is called in question, the whole
body of this organised system of thought rises in opposition to the
questioning, and being individually conscious of this strong feeling of
subjective opposition, the man declares the sceptical propositions to be
more inconceivable to him than are the counter-propositions. And in so
saying he is, of course, perfectly right. Hence I conceive that the
acceptance or the rejection of metaphysical teleology as probable will
depend entirely upon individual habits of thought. The test of absolute
inconceivability making equally for and against the doctrine of Theism,
disputants are compelled to fall back on the test of relative
inconceivability; and as the direction in which the more inconceivable
proposition will here seem to lie will be determined by previous habits of
thought, it follows that while to a theist metaphysical teleology will
appear a probable argument, to an atheist it will appear an improbable one.
Thus to a theist it will no doubt appear more conceivable that the Supreme
Mind should be such that in some of its attributes it resembles the human
mind, while in other of its attributes--among which he will place
omnipresence, omnipotence, and directive agency--it transcends the human
mind as greatly as the latter "transcends mechanical motion;" and therefore
that although it is true, as a matter of logical terminology, that we ought
to designate such an entity "Not mind" or "Blank," still, as a matter of
psychology, we may come nearer to the truth by assimilating in thought this
entity with the nearest analogies which experience supplies, than by
assimilating it in thought with any other entity--such as force or
matter--which are felt to be in all likelihood still more remote from it in
nature. On the other hand, to an atheist it will no doubt appear more
conceivable, because more simple, to accept the dogma of an eternal
self-existence of something which we call force and matter, and with this
dogma to accept the implication of a necessary self-evolution of cosmic
harmony, than to resort to the additional and no less inconceivable
supposition of a self-existing Agent which must be regarded both as Mind
and as Not-mind at the same time. But in both cases, in whatever degree
this test of relative inconceivability of a negative is held by the
disputants to be valid in solving the problem of Theism, in that degree is
each man entitled to his respective estimate of the probability in
question. And thus we arrive at the judgment that the rational probability
of Theism legitimately varies with the character of the mind which
contemplates it. For, as the test of absolute inconceivability is equally
annihilative in whichever direction it is applied, the test of relative
inconceivability is the only one that remains; and as the formal conditions
of a metaphysical teleology are undoubtedly present on the one hand, and
the formal conditions of a physical explanation of cosmic harmony are no
less undoubtedly present on the other hand, it follows that a theist and an
atheist have an equal right to employ this test of relative
inconceivability. And as there is no more ultimate court of appeal whereby
to decide the question than the universe as a whole, each man has here an
equal argumentative right to abide by the decision which that court awards
_to him individually_--to accept whatever probability the sum-total of
phenomena appears to present to his particular understanding. And it is
needless to say that experience shows, even among well-informed and
accurate reasoners, how large an allowance must thus be made for personal
equations. To some men the facts of external nature seem to proclaim a God
with clarion voice, while to other men the same facts bring no whisper of
such a message. All, therefore, that a logician can here do is to remark,
that the individuals in each class--provided they bear in mind the strictly
_relative_ character of their belief--have a similar right to be regarded
as holding a rational creed: the grounds of belief in this case logically
vary with the natural disposition and the subsequent training of different
minds.[34]
It only remains to show that disputants on either side are apt to endow
this test of relative inconceivability with far more than its real logical
worth. Being accustomed to apply this test of truth in daily life, and
there finding it a trustworthy test, most men are apt to forget that its
value as a test must clearly diminish in proportion to the distance from
experience at which it is applied. This, indeed, we saw to be the case even
with the test of absolute inconceivability (see Chapter V.), but much more
must it be the case with this test of relative inconceivability. For,
without comment, it is manifest that our acquired sense of probability, as
distinguished from our innate sense of possibility, with regard to any
particular question of a transcendental nature, cannot be at all comparable
with its value in the case of ordinary questions, with respect to which our
sense of probability is being always rectified by external facts. Although,
therefore, it is true that both those who reject and those who retain a
belief in Theism on grounds of relative conceivability are equally entitled
to be regarded as displaying a rational attitude of mind, in whatever
degree either party considers their belief as of a higher validity than the
grounds of psychology from which it takes its rise, in that degree must the
members of that party be deemed irrational. In other words, not only must a
man be careful not to confuse the test of relative inconceivability with
that of absolute conceivability--not to suppose that his sense of
probability in this matter is determined by an innate psychological
inability to conceive a proposition, when in reality it is only determined
by the difficulty of dissociating ideas which have long been habitually
associated;--but he must also be careful to remember that the test of
relative inconceivability in this matter is only valid as justifying a
belief of the most diffident possible kind.
And from this the practical deduction is--tolerance. Let no man think that
he has any argumentative right to expect that the mere subjective habit or
tone of his own mind should exert any influence on that of his fellow; but
rather let him always remember that the only legitimate weapons of his
intellectual warfare are those the _material_ of which is derived from the
external world, and only the _form_ of which is due to the forging process
of his own mind. And if in battle such weapons seem to be unduly blunted on
the hardened armoury of traditional beliefs, or on the no less hardened
armoury of confirmed scepticism, let him remember further that he must not
too confidently infer that the fault does not lie in the character of his
own weapons. To drop the figure, let none of us forget in how much need we
all stand of this caution:--Knowing how greatly the value of arguments is
affected, even to the most impartial among us, by the frame of mind in
which we regard them, let all of us be jealously careful not to
over-estimate the certainty that our frame or habit of mind is actually
superior to that of our neighbour. And, in conclusion, it is surely
needless to insist on
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