In my last post ("Science's big problem(s)") I pointed out that science was a human activity, and therefore prone to being less than pristine and perfect. Precisely because it is carried on by scientists who, whatever else they may be, are certainly human, there are bound to be mistakes made. This needn’t derail the whole exercise (as is clear from the history of such mistakes), but it does mean that a degree of humility and realism are appropriate. Such humility and realism notably departed in the 19th century, almost deliberately driven out by the likes of Huxley, his X-club and the like. Warfare (they claimed) was the inevitable state of things between science and religion/theology (in the West usually Christianity and Christian theology), and was ably stoked by the likes of John William Draper and Andrew Dickson White. Science reigned supreme, was the only source of real knowledge (about everything), and other approaches to reality (which everyone agreed existed and mattered) were only of historical and therefore limited interest. Christian belief, at least in its orthodox, supernaturalist form, was not useful for anything, could be dangerous and misleading, and should essentially be dispensed with, at least for practical purposes. Humanity had to move on from its intellectual adolescence to something closer to maturity. If tricky issues arose, they could be settled by sensible, scientific men (and they were mainly men), without resorting to other modes of thought.
One of intellectual history’s tragedies is that theology played a role in its own demise, retreating from its position as the “queen of sciences” and almost cravenly capitulating to the attack of its critics. Prior to the activity of Huxley et al, and increasing the success of their attack when it came, theology developed what looks to the outsider (or at least this outsider) cold feet. Assailed by external attack from the likes of Spinoza and Voltaire, and weakened by those who might claim to be its friends like Kant, theology didn’t appear to be in a mood to put up much of a fight. It, along with the Christianity it had sought to illuminate, appeared to accept that it had to move on from “naive supernaturalism” in order to be fit for the age of enlightenment (and later romanticism or whatever was flavour of the day). This was partly because science, so impressive in its achievements, was claimed to make supernaturalism untenable. No point being sentimental about it. Besides which, all the supernatural stuff (God creating and sustaining a universe from nothing, talking donkeys, healed lepers and paralytics, resurrections and the like) was not core and key and could be lost without losing anything important. Rather than scrutinising the underlying presuppositions and claims of the likes of Kant and Hegel, theology had to capitulate if it was to be intellectually respectable. In particular, the Bible and its claims had to be radically reappraised on the basis of what the reason of the day found palatable.
It is worth pointing out that in parallel with this capitulation in the theological academy, in the real world outside, different stories were unfolding. So, from the late 1730’s in the Anglo-Saxon world, the likes of Whitefield and Wesley went about the business of preaching essentially the same Gospel as that of the Apostles leading to the “great awakening” which, in turn, arguably led to wider social reforms in 19th century, and to influences still detectable today in North America. In the 19th century there also remained those who prominently preached that same Gospel seeing it affecting the thinking and lives of ordinary men and women (the likes of McCheyne and Chalmers in Scotland, and Spurgeon and Ryle in England). And in the latter part of the 19th century the apparent need of some to press the narrative of an inevitable conflict between science and Christianity is itself evidence that progress in eradicating “superstition” had not been as extensive or successful as the likes of Huxley hoped. To this day there are echoes of this in some of the rantings of the “new” atheists of recent memory (whose demise was discussed here). But these are stories for another day. I need to get back to science and its contemporary challenges.
It is a feature of the conflict narrative that it singularly failed to explain why quite to many of those involved in science continued quite happily to be believers of all sorts, including orthodox Christian believers, apparently having no difficulty reconciling one profession with another. The accusation was occasionally made that this could only be accomplished by them keeping two contradictory worlds apart. But, for what it’s worth, this was neither my personal approach, nor my observation of the approach of others. Rather the opposite appeared to be the case. I benefited from the influence of those who reckoned that hard thinking did indeed have to be done, but that Christians had no need to fear truth. Neither was there a need to fear caricatures, half-truths and castles built on sand. As Christians in science were were following a valid and important vocation, not risking either our faith or our intellectual integrity. But it turns out that even outwith the evangelical camp (to which I belong), something was astir in theology.
There have always been alternative models, besides that of conflict, for the interaction between theology and science. Some see no necessary interaction between the two at all, claiming that they address very different issues with very different tools; they can be compartmentalised and should be kept separate. Others, while arguing in a similar vein, think that they are complementary and compatible, rather than separate. Now it appears that the worm has began to turn. Perhaps anticipated by philosophers like Mary Midgely and her critique of scientism in both its crude and subtle forms (e.g. see her “Science as Salvation”), there are those from a theological perspective prepared to claim once again not just an important place for theology, but an indispensable, or even a superior place in providing explanations that matter. This sometimes emerges from expected sources (e.g. see this article from Michael Hanby, Associate Professor of Religion and Philosophy of Science at the John Paul II Institute at the Catholic University of America), but it may be gaining a degree of intellectual respectability propelled by those from a range of backgrounds prepared to do hard yards (e.g. see Paul Tyson’s recent “A Christian Theology of Science”).
It could be that in a postmodern world where meaning is what anyone and everyone takes it to be, this sort of “theology in charge” movement is just part of the inevitable mix (not to say mess). It may amount to nothing new or interesting. But the intellectual hegemony claimed for a certain view of science may be coming to an end, opening up a respectable space for theology once again. There are particular types of questions that science provides a means of answering. It would be to no one’s advantage to deny this. But there have always been really big questions that science never could really answer. The trick remains, as ever, to distinguish baby and bath water.
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