Posted: 01/02/2013 6:07 pm
Former NASA researcher;
computational scientist; emeritus professor of mathematics, James
Madison University; author, 'Reason and Wonder'
In a 1983 address to an international symposium on Galileo, Pope John Paul II issued a stunning pronouncement:
The Church is convinced that there can be no real
contradiction between science and faith. ... It is certain that science
and faith represent two different orders of knowledge, autonomous in
their processes, but finally converging upon the discovery of reality in
all its aspects...
Given centuries of animosity between science and religion, the
pontiff's admission astounds for several reasons. First, it stresses the
complementarity rather than the antagonism of rational and intuitive modes of knowing. Second, it grants
autonomy
to both revelatory processes, implying that neither should seek to
manipulate or triumph over the other. And third, it suggests that
ultimate truth -- so far as we can know it -- emerges from the
concerted efforts of external and internal explorations.
But the devil is in the details. Autonomy among those in relationship
is best preserved when each party maintains a clear and robust boundary
and a high degree of integrity. I'll defer to the philosophers to
painstakingly demarcate the domains of science and religion, but one
thing is certain: Most of the historic animosity between them is due to
boundary infractions. And both parties are guilty.
The violations of science's domain by religion are numerous, well
known and egregious. Particularly odious was the church's burning of
Giordano Bruno at the stake in 1600 for multiple "heresies" that
included the promotion of Copernicanism (the idea that the Earth orbits
the Sun rather than vice versa), a suspicion that the stars are suns
like our own and a belief in the plurality of worlds. Close on the heels
of Bruno's demise came the trial of Galileo of 1632-3 in which the
Inquisition convicted the world's most eminent scientist of heresies
"more scandalous, more detestable, and more pernicious to Christianity
than any contained in the books of Calvin, of Luther, and of all other
heretics put together." Galileo's life was spared when he signed a
confession recanting the "heresy" of Copernicanism; however, he remained
under house arrest for the duration of his life.
Skirmishes between science and religion persist. Today's religious
fundamentalists periodically attempt to force the teaching of
creationism (or one of its many guises) in public schools, in violation
both of science's domain and the constitutional separation of church and
state. For a short summary of the most recent major skirmish, the 2005
U.S. Supreme Court case
Kitzmiller v. Dover Area School District, see pages 89-90 of Jason Rosenhouse's
Among the Creationists (Oxford, 2012).
Science's infractions are subtler but equally damaging to the human
spirit. During an enlightening lecture in 2000 by religion scholar
Huston Smith, I began to appreciate how science infringes on religion's
domain. Smith thoughtfully distinguished science from
scientism.
The former is an investigative protocol; the latter is a religion,
complete with dogma. Science is a formalized procedure for making sense
of the world by studying its material properties, perceived through the
awareness of the senses, albeit senses heightened by modern marvels such
as the electron microscope, the Hubble Space Telescope or the Chandra
X-Ray Observatory. Scientism (or
scientific materialism), on the other hand, adds to science a statement of faith: The universe is
only
material. Moreover, given the spectacular successes of science over
the past three centuries, it is more than fair to acknowledge that
science represents a powerful way to learn about the world. But
scientism ups the ante: Science is the
best (or
only) way to make sense of the world. In short, scientism is to science what fundamentalism is to religion: cocksure and inflexible.
Science remains most true to itself and of greatest value to humanity
when it assiduously avoids unnecessary assumptions. Over the long arc
of history, science has initially embraced -- then discarded -- most of
the following tacit assumptions: dualism, determinism, reductionism,
absolute time, absolute space, the principle of locality, materialism
and, most recently, realism. In subsequent posts, we'll examine each of
these in some detail. For now, let's summarize.
Despite the demise of most of its once-sacred cows, science remains
alive and well, implying that the assumptions abandoned were never
essential.
Unwarranted assumptions -- blinders, really -- may have been
necessary to the methodical progress of science, but ultimately they
squelch open inquiry. Indeed, all of science may rest upon a single
inviolate assumption: The same physical laws apply throughout the
cosmos. Why not leave it there (at least for now)?
Ultimately, science and religion should serve rather than dominate
the human societies from which they emerged. Each, I believe, serves
best from a stance of awe and humility that assumes as little as
possible. The best from both worlds -- the greatest scientists and the
most profound religious thinkers and teachers -- have always practiced
these two qualities. Childlike awe motivated Einstein. "All our
knowledge is but the knowledge of schoolchildren," he accepted. "The
real nature of things, that we shall never know, never." Similarly, the
German Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner invoked both humility and awe when
he asked, "Which do we love more, the small island of our so-called
knowledge or the sea of infinite mystery?"
This essay is adapted from the author's recent book Reason and Wonder (Praeger, 2012).
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