Every so
often I read an essay by a scientist trying to explain why belief in God is incompatible
with science, about how advances in knowledge gained by science have so whittled
away at the notion of a higher being that nothing remains except foolish
superstition. Invariably, it seems to
me, these essays make the same fundamental error. The
error is as old as argument; it’s the straw man fallacy. To deny the existence of God, one must first
define God. If we define God as a large
old man with a white beard, sitting on a throne somewhere above the clouds, who
listens to every prayer, it’s easy enough to demonstrate that there’s no
evidence that He exists. God as depicted
in ancient texts like the Bible is not much less simplistic. Agreeing that such descriptions of God
encompass the entirety of God is to buy into the straw man fallacy. All the arguments by atheists I’ve ever seen
set up a straw man God, and then proceed to demolish it. But if the straw man isn’t an accurate
depiction of God, then demolishing it proves nothing.
Virtually
everyone trying to gain knowledge by using science, however, believes that such
a thing as Truth exists. Why else would
one want to do science? We do science
because we believe it’s a method – not necessarily the only method, but a
useful one – to get closer to the Truth.
And what is
Truth? It’s hard, perhaps impossible to
define. But when something has the ring
of truth, we tend to hear it. Indeed, new
knowledge tends to undermine old notions of what is true. But new knowledge doesn’t undermine the
notion that there is a true nature of things that can eventually be
learned. To believe that Truth exists is
to believe there’s a basic, fundamental essence, a pattern that permeates
reality. Is that any different from
believing that God exists? I don’t think
so.
What about
that pattern? I think we catch ever clearer
glimpses of it the deeper we look at the universe. The methodical methods of science extend our
senses, sharpen our observations, and permit those deeper looks. But sometimes an abrupt, fresh look at
something provides a deeper look too.
The other day, on a beach by the Gulf of Mexico, I found a sand dollar
shell. It stood out from the many living
sand dollars lightly buried in the sand by the surf. That shell is pictured above. See the intricate design on the shell. Evolution is a fact, and Darwin's theory explains well how it works. But the presence of that pattern on the shell is a puzzle. It’s hard to see how the evolution
of that pattern would have helped sand dollars survive, since, as far as we can
tell, they can’t see the pattern on their shells or those of other sand
dollars. The pattern probably has
something to do with the flow of energy, the structure of molecules, the
fractal patterns of the universe, the music of the spheres.
It looks to me like there's more going on than just natural selection. There must be additional processes operating that leave traces in patterns we can sometimes see. And who knows to what lengths, depths, and
dimensions these patterns extend? I’m
not ready to throw out the idea that a fervent wish, a prayer if you like,
might not reverberate with, influence, or be influenced by larger
patterns. Nor am I ready to dismiss the
possibility that some aspect of the pattern that I call my life might be larger
in temporal scope than the pattern I call my body. Is there life after death? It’s impossible to answer that question
without defining life. And here we have
the straw man problem again.
It would be refreshing
if scientists stopped indulging in religion-bashing by setting up straw men and
demolishing them, and if religious people stopped feeling threatened by science. Instead of adversaries, religion, which seeks to bring us closer
to God, and science, which seeks to bring us closer to Truth, may be long-lost,
estranged, but fundamentally related twins.
