Naturalism
Karl Barth talks to theologians; he really has nothing
to say to scientists. The two groups, in his opinion, are each in its own way seeking
the truth and neither can criticize the other. Such total independence, however,
hardly seems a plausible assumption in view of the fact that the two groups do not
merely go their own ways, but in the case of naturalistic scientists rather directly
contradict each other. Therefore it is more reasonable for us, the theologians,
to acknowledge and accept the need to address such naturalistic scientists; and
here one restricted argument will be attempted.
Contemporary naturalism, at least in one of its expressions,
adopts as its basic principle the existential and causal primacy of matter. That
is to say, all events, qualities, and processes are contingent upon the organization
of spatio-temporally located bodies. This naturalism does not maintain that only
bodies exist. Dreams, joys, and aspirations also exist. These, however, are not
agents in the realization of anything; they are forms of behavior or functions of
material systems. In particular, naturalism allows no place for any immaterial spirit
or for the survival of personality after the death and decay of the body.
Although the naturalists often claim that the existential
and causal primacy of bodies is the most certain of all conclusions drawn from experience,
an opponent might suggest that the argument of Descartes showing that the soul is
better known than the body is no less plausible than anything naturalism has to
offer. But at the moment we shall take up two other objections to naturalism and
conclude with a third of a different kind.
One constantly repeated criticism of naturalism is that
the logico-empirical method rules out God from the start. The initial rejection
of trans-empirical causes and spiritual substance automatically disposes of all
alternative philosophies. The method adopted
dismisses a priori as irrelevant any argument intended to support a theistic view.
To this objection one naturalist replied that his school
does not a priori rule out any evidence obtainable through sensory or introspective
observation; but unless a trans-empirical ground of all existence can explain the
actual occurrences in this sensory world, the hypothesis is otiose.
This reply, however, seems upon examination to grant the
force of the criticism. The naturalist has asserted that an hypothesis is otiose
if it cannot explain in particular some actual natural process, such as the revolution
of the planets. But the affirmation of God's existence was never intended to show
that satellites move in ellipses rather than in circles. Whereas naturalism demands
that all hypotheses account for this specific world and not equally well for another
imaginary world, no Christian theologian aims to show that the existence of God
requires precisely ten rather than five or fifteen planets. Hence naturalism, by
its initial assumption that hypotheses must explain the empirically observed particularities
of this world, indeed rules out theism automatically from the start.
A second common objection place naturalism's commitment
to the method of scientific proof on the same level as any religious acceptance
or an unsupported and indemonstrable faith. Since all science assumes principles
that transcend experience, such as the uniformity of nature, or something else,
naturalism has no ground for rejecting alternate principles.
Naturalists have a difficult time answering this objection.
They have suggested that a demand for a wholesale justification of knowledge is
unwarranted. Yet do they not assume that all possible knowledge is justified on
their principle and theirs alone. The grounds for accepting any particular and restricted
item of physics include, not only bits of specific evidence, but also the general
method used. If the naturalist wishes to defend his rejection of God by the successes
of science in detailed instance: he must be prepared to face the face that science
has constantly revise these minor laws, has corrected and will correct any inductive
policy, and must admit that no guarantee can be given even to the most assured of
scientific results. This gives no firm ground for denying the existence of spiritual
agents.
A third criticism of naturalism is of a different kind.
Naturalists are often irritated at the charge of materialism, not only because they
think they can escape the accusation by a technical rejection of reductionism and
a espousal of organismic biology, but perhaps more deeply because materialism has
a connotation of inhumanity, insensitivity, and indifference to cultural values.
Hence in opposition to the older materialists who viewed
man as an infinitesimal microbe crawling on a fleck of dust that revolves around
a bubble of gas, the naturalist takes pains to assign to man a degree of importance.
Human values are what they are, he asserts. Without denying that human life depends
on non-human factors, a mature naturalism assesses man's nature in the light of
his actions and achievements, his aspirations and capabilities, his limitations,
and his tragic failures. It has never sought to conceal its view of human destiny
as an episode between two oblivions; yet human good is nonetheless good, despite
its transitory existence.
But can human life, under these conditions, rise even to
the level of tragedy? Does it not rather remain on the level of senseless despair?
St. Augustine long ago made it clear that no one can be happy in the present if
he knows that he will not be happy in the future. A man facing oblivion can be happy
only through ignorance; and this is a fool's paradise, for ignorance is antithetical
to true happiness. If the world is as the naturalist supposes, the only rational
solution is suicide.
Well, perhaps, not exactly; for it would seem that naturalism
not only falls below the level of tragedy, it does not even rise to the level of
despair, where suicide would be rational. Despair presupposes a spiritual, thinking
being, a cogito, without which there can be neither aspiration, value, achievement,
nor science, nor any knowledge whatever.
Dr. Clark is Professor of Philosophy
at Butler University, Indianapolis, Ind.
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