Chapter 1
āReligion and scienceā in multiple contexts
Calvin and Hobbes, a boy and his tiger, are walking through a forest. āDo you believe in evolution?ā Calvin asks. āNo,ā the tiger replies. āSo you donāt believe humans descended from apes?ā the boy continues. To which the tiger responds: āI donāt see the difference,ā and beats a hasty retreat from the angry boy. The boy asks about the explanation of human origins; the tiger responds with an offence to human dignity. As in this comic strip by Bill Watterson, so too in debates about evolution in the real world: multiple issues are intertwined.
In a lecture at a college in Iowa I presented the grand narrative of modern science, from the Big Bang until Now, and argued for the possibility of a religious appreciation of these insights (Drees 2002a). In the Q&A period a woman asked: āSo, you believe there has been a Second Fall?ā At first, I didnāt understand the question. She took death to be the consequence of the sin of Adam and Eve, while I had spoken of natural death as arising with the evolution of multi-cellular life, long before there were humans ā which for her implied that there had been a Fall before the Fall of the first humans. Whereas the framework of my lecture had been science, her framework was a particular religious one. Miscommunication arises easily in āreligion and scienceā. Debates are often non-debates, as issues and criteria are framed differently by the various participants.
A good example of the extensive literatu re on āreligion and scienceā is The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Science (Clayton and Simpson 2006), a thousand pages with fifty-five good chapters on religion and science. Even this extensive survey, including essays by many of the best authors, has some biases. It is mostly Anglo-Saxon with respect to the authors, and also with respect to the treatment of topics. The chapter on sociology and religion ends with remarks about the American constitution. The evolution/creation controversy is discussed in the American context as if issues are the same elsewhere. The authors focus on content, scientific and theological, at the expense of context. Theology, ethics and science have universal ambitions; their truth claims and norms seek to be valid for people of all walks of life and all cultures. While their ambitions are lofty, religion and science are human; contexts and assumptions shape the questions asked, the criteria used, the content proposed.
āReligion and scienceā speaks of that which we value, that which we hold to be true, and that which we hold to be possible. What is going on in the complex area of debates and non-debates on āreligion and scienceā? What is to be taken seriously, and what might be dismissed as nonsense? What would be possible venues? What are aims and ambitions of discussions on āreligion and scienceā? This book is about the ways in which we approach two major dimensions of human existence, the scientific quest for reliable knowledge that surpasses cultural constraints and subjective preferences, and the religious quests for meaning and orientation in our lives, as a major dimension of culture and subjective existence. By considering sources of disagreement and confusion, this guide aspires to assist in developing a better understanding of science, of religion and of the contexts in which these major human endeavours interact.
1966 can be consider ed the year the modern constructive āreligion and scienceā discussion started in the United States. The journal Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science was founded by Ralph Burhoe, for many years the executive officer of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, while the physicist and theologian Ian Barbour published his book Issues in Science and Religion. Around the same time, on the other side of the Atlantic, a committee of the Dutch Reformed Church concluded that there wasnāt much to be discussed, except issues of ethics and ethos, as religion and science each had its own role in human life (Dippel and De Jong 1965). Why did the American āreligion and scienceā discussion take off at that time, while these Protestants on the European continent werenāt interested? Discussions in the United States and on the European continent concern the same science, and they both take place in the context of Western Christianity, broadly understood. Though standing within the same religious traditions, those American and Dutch authors did not have the same view of what religious belief is.
What has been achieved in the decades since 1966? There are books, conferences and lectures on āreligion and scienceā. Oxford University has established an endowed chair in this area, and so have Princeton Theological Seminary, the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley and Davidson College (USA). Despite much activity, however, consensus on issues of importance seems far away, the impact on theology and on religious communities is limited and the academic credibility of āreligion and scienceā remains marginal.
I suspect that the lack of progress has to do with a lack of careful consideration of (a) contexts, (b) purposes, (c) criteria and (d) views of what religion might be. These issues will be addressed in the first four chapters of this book. Thereafter, we will consider three major domains of āreligion and scienceā: (e) mystery in a world made intelligible by the sciences, (f) morality in a world of facts and (g) meaning and identity in a world of matter.
In its structure, this guide isnāt organized by scientific discipline, nor is it organized by religion, nor by particular topics such as creation, providence, prayer, sin, evil or the concept of God. A more grandiose project would have to cover all such dimensions and many more. Here we will concentrate on underlying assumptions about purposes and criteria, thereby preparing a canvas upon which substantial views on these issues might be drawn.
Many people are interested in science: engineers who consider applications, patients who hope for cures, business people who look for opportunities, governments that consider what to fund, legislatures that debate ethical restrictions and lay people who are just curious. In this cultural environment surrounding science one aspect may be the formative and normative religious traditions of human societies and the beliefs, values, attitudes, hopes and dreams of individuals.
Religious interest comes in multiple versions as well. There are not only people who believe differently but also agnostics, who argue that we should be modest in our claims as we donāt really know. And there are atheists, who think we should not be too modest, as we know that it is not. In as far as they engage science I here consider all such persons as involved in āreligion and scienceā.
We need not think of scientists and of religious people as if these are distinct groups. A single person may well engage in science and have moral and metaphysical convictions. Thus, I will focus on science and religion as activities, rather than on scientists and believers as persons.
Reflections on āreligion and scienceā take place in a cultural, social context. Courts have been involved in controversies over the teaching of evolution in American schools. Sponsors donate money for the advocacy of their preferred positions or for their beloved research projects. One never walks alone; contexts and company shape what is going on (Hefner 2008). At least two contexts can be discerned: secularization and the persistence of superstition. As I will argue that location and perspective are important to understand what is going on, I need to be honest on the perspective that informs my writing here. We will come to that later in this chapter.
Secularization as concern
Many participants in contem porary reflections on āreligion and scienceā are concerned about secularization, about religious institutions losing significance and adherence to religious beliefs declining. They value science and have an affinity with religion, and thus seek to understand how both might be significant, meaningful, or even true, rather than being perceived as being in conflict.
In 1633 Galileo Galilei was forced to abjure the idea that the Earth revolves around its own axis and around the Sun. Seen in historical perspective, this decision by the leadership of the Roman Catholic Church was damaging to the church, as the condemn ation of Galileo undermined its credibility for centuries. If religion and science are perceived to be in conflict, one has to choose the side of science, on intellectual and moral grounds. The successes of science are intellectual and practical, in developing a deeper and more unified understanding of the world, in making predictions that survive tests, in allowing us to make valuable applications such as modern computers and medicine. Thus, in brief, one might argue that science leads to secularization.
To see the natural sciences as the main cause of secularization in the Western world is naĆÆve; welfare and other social measures have contributed at least as much to the decline of religious institutions. Technology and medicine have moved the boundary between that which is given, whether by God or by fate, and that which is within our reach to do something about. What might have been hubris in previous times has now become a human option, and hence a human responsibility.
Whether it is science or whether it is modernization and secularization in general, religion and science appear to be at odds with each other. Seen thus, āreligion and scienceā in the Western world can be viewed as a response to secularization, that is a response to the claim that science provides a better understanding of the world and a response to the expectation that the problem-solving attitude of science-based technology and medicine is to be preferred over prayer or other religious responses. If tension between religious affinities and reliance on science provides the incentive for āreligion and scienceā, contributors may look for alternatives to the view that science replaces religion. āReligion and scienceā in this context is driven by the perception of conflict.
To counter the idea that science refutes or replaces religion, one might argue that conflict and replacement do not necessarily follow from accepting science. This could be argued in various ways, each with its own assumptions about the nature of religion and the nature of science.
One strategy might be to argue that at heart religion does something not touched upon by the sciences as it addresses values, meaning and ultimate explanations. Religion, thus seen, is complementary to science. Galileo, in defence of his astronomical work, quoted in his āLetter to Grand Duchess Christinaā (1615) Cardinal Baronio who had said that the intention of the Holy Spirit is not to teach us how the heavens go, but how to go to heaven (Finocchiaro 1989:96). Issues of morality and salvation are distinct from scientific knowledge.
To argue for the peaceful coexistence of religion and science one might also seek to argue that science is mistaken or incomplete, and in need of religious corrections, replacements or supplements, whether an actively intervening God (āintelligent designā) or a more āspiritualā view of reality. Such a strategy deviates from mainstream science, and thus is less effective in countering the idea of conflict, though the replacement is not a replacement of religion by science but of mainstream science by something else, whether considered āalternative scienceā or dismissed as āpseudoscienceā.
Another strategy might be to argue that below the surface (or beyond the horizon of current science, or in its history and practice) science depends upon religious notions. If there are laws in nature, should we not also allow for a sovereign Lawgiver, a God who would not have to work against Godās own laws of nature, but has set these to bring about Godās intentions? Last but not least, an integration of religion and science might be intended, bringing the sciences into a meaningful vision of the way reality is, whether in terms of a theistic metaphysics or in a form of āreligious naturalismā.
Ian Barbour, a major American author on āreligion and scienceā, has proposed to describe the field with the help of four categories: conflict, independence, dialogue and integration (Barbour 1997:77ā105). The preceding paragraphs indicate that one way of reading this scheme is as presenting one problem (conflict), with three possible responses to mitigate the forced choice suggested by the conflict position.
Whether one opts for a friendly separation and division of labour, a modified science, or a more far-reaching integration, the conditions of this development seem to have been set by secularization. Science seems to make religion mistaken or irrelevant. Thus, the interest is primarily in an approach which appeases a potential or real conflict.
For those who see this as the main agenda in āreligion and scienceā, the partners are others with a positive interest in religion and with respect for science, as these are involved in opposing the same opponents. Hence, there is a broad ecumenicity in āreligion and scienceā. The peer group tends to exclude as allies those who are perceived to be staunch opponents of religion such as Richard Dawkins, Peter Atkins, Edward O. Wilson and Daniel Dennett. And the peer group tends to exclude opponents to science and proponents of odd āscienceā, whether in the form of āscientific creationismā or quantum mysticism, as relating to such alternatives would not provide genuine legitimacy for religion in an age of science.
I find this concentration on countering secularization unsatisfactory. The agenda is not positive but negative, even though the negative purpose might be served by a positive case for the independence of religious convictions or by a constructive integration of religion and science in an encompassing vision of reality. Whatever the strategy, the underlying tone, read thus, is defensive: we are judged to be on a slippery slope, on which one has to make a stand against the secularizing impact of science. I think there is at least one other possible agenda for āreligion and scienceā, one that is not driven by concern about secularization but by concern about the persistence of superstition.
The persistence of superstition
One could also engage in āreligion and scienceā for another reason. The driving concern would not be the future of religion but the persistence of superstition and nonsense, even though we, humans, should know better. Such a context is well expressed in the title of one of the last books by Carl Sagan, astronomer and science popularizer: The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. If such darkness is the context and concern, the agenda and partnerships would be different.
Challenging nonsense such as astrology, alien-abduction stories and ineffective but expensive therapies is a most laudable goal, not only intellectually but also socially and morally. Nonsense often goes hand in hand with financial abuse and with raising immoral expectations, as when someone sells nonsensical cures to patients who are fatallyill, or suggests to a bereaved mother the possibility of communication with the dead. If a disease can be healed by āpositive thinkingā, then the patient who doesnāt become well receives the additional burden of failing spiritually. Fighting socially consequential nonsense drives organizations of sceptics, as far as I understand their intentions. āReligion and scienceā could have developed more along those lines, but that has not been its prime concern so far.
Challenging superstition would require us in āreligion and scienceā to address the nonsense in our own field, and thus might upset the ecumenicity that serves us nicely in arguing against secular threats. For those involved in āreligion and scienceā our primary purpose would then be to challenge nonsense and to pursue truth, rather than to find a place for religion in a world seen through the sciences. This intellectual responsibility would regard critically not only secular challe nges, but also the challenges and solutions that we may raise ourselves. Intellectually and morally I consider this a most important aspect of āreligion and scienceā.
This book
Putting Science in its Place is the title of a book in which the historian and geographer David Livingstone considers the situated character of scientific research. He studies science as situated in laboratories, the outdoors, the museum and hospital s, but also as shaped by particular local, contextual situations. Livingstone (2003:94) demonstrates how the Galileo affair took place in a regional arrangement of patronage and authority. He describes the reception of Darwinism in Calvinist settings in Scotland, Ireland and the United States. In Belfast Protestants and Catholics used opposition to claims about science replacing religion to criticize each other. In Princeton, the leadership sought to read evolutionary natural history as divine design. In Char-leston, in the southern United States, racial sensitivities led to opposition to a single human origin, while in New Zealand the settlers could use evolution to justify their struggle for life at the expense of the Maoris (112ā23). Even a single issue like the reception of Darwinian ideas in Protestant circles was very much context-dependent.
Since reflection on religion and its relations to science is a situated business, it seems fair to give readers information on the context of this book and its author, to note my own biases and disputable assumptions. This book is written by a European, a Dutchman, who has been exposed to American conversations.
Even though Europeans and Americans read the same literature, their situations differ. In many parts of Europe there is more indifference about religion, while science is more widely accepted. Thus, in Europe to think about āreligion in an age of scienceā is to think primarily about religion, with science as the background common to authors, readers and real or fictitious opponents.
In the United States science is distrusted by some as elitist. If there seems to be a conflict between religion and science, it need not be the science that is accepted. Some choose against science when it seems threatening to religious beliefs, and thus opt for āscientific creationismā or āintelligent designā. Those who address āreligion and scienceā in such a context have to do two jobs at the same time, to defend science against religious distrust and to think through the ways religion might need to be adapted in the light of the sciences. In such a context, philosophies of science which limit the pretensions of science may be extra welcome. A climate in which science is distrusted might be served also by popularization of science with a pious gloss at the end, whereas this would hardly count as a contribution to āreligion and scienceā in a European setting as such publications do not address the relationship between religious convictions and scientific knowledge.
Professional context
The professional setting of my writing is a public university, Leiden University, where I have a chair in Philosophy of Religion and Ethics. As this is a public university, religion may be an object of study, but legitimate methods are those of history, philology and literary studies, anthropology, philosophy and other secular disciplines. We have a bachelorās programme on the world religions, alongside bachelorās programmes on Christianity and Islam, the two largest religious traditions in the Netherlands. For some students, these programs may be the first step in training for ministry, but confessional and practical training is organized separately, complementary to the knowledge and skills provided by the university. This twofold order (duplex ordo), with a distinction between āneutralā and confessional subjects, developed in the nineteenth century as the Dutch version of the separation of Church and State. The institute for religious studies of the public university and the professional Master of Divinity programme of the Protestant Theological University share a building. We have friendly relations, but serve different masters. Religious studies, rather than ātheologyā, is the context in which I write, and it is one in which I feel comfortable, though I also have my own religious interests and preferences.
Before becoming a philosopher of religion, with doctorates in theology and in philosophy, I earned a postgraduate degree in theoretical physics at Utrecht University. In 1977 I wrote a thesis on the detectability of Higgs bosons, particles which remain undetected today, but which might perhaps show up in the experiments at CERN, Geneva, when the new Large Hadron Collider is functioning well. I am no longer a physicist, but I hope that love and respect for science, in its results but even more in its persistent raising of further questions, still come through in the following pages.
I am an insider to ār...
