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A Critique of Stephen Meyer’s ‘Return of the God Hypothesis’
I have struggled with writing a review of Stephen Meyer’s book, Return of the God Hypothesis, since I finished it a few weeks ago. Every time I pick it up to reread portions of it I find myself wanting to approach the work from a different perspective. The book is neither a straight popularization of science nor an attempt to frame a clear scientific argument. Rather, it’s a well-crafted work of reporting and speculation at the frothy margins of scientific theory that, combined with a few leaps of logic, is harnessed in support of a foreordained conclusion.
I suspect that the science in this book – and there’s quite a lot of it – will, despite being well-presented by an eloquent and talented author, largely elude most readers. Perhaps more importantly, the context from which the science is drawn will likely be unfamiliar to most readers, who will have little familiarity with physics and cosmology beyond what is presented in this book. If this book were merely a popularization of the science of cosmology, that would be fine: people would gain a feel for the state of the field, for its complexity and nuance, and for the remarkable accomplishments that have been made in recent years. But that’s not what this book is. Rather, it’s an attempt to support a metaphysical argument by portraying science as inadequate both in practice and in principle, and so leave no plausible alternative but the eponymous God Hypothesis. To frame that argument responsibly would require considerably more scope and rigor than this already science-heavy book offers. To do it convincingly, on the other hand, requires much less effort, particularly if the reader is inclined to be generous and knows little of physics.
It has been said of Stephen Hawking’s bestselling book A Brief History of Time that it was purchased by many and read by few. I suspect the same is likely true of Return of the God Hypothesis: for many, it will be a tough read. Yet it is an impressive book, and it has lent a great deal of talk-circuit credibility to its author and his premise. The fact that Mr. Meyer is an eloquent speaker and a clever and charming guest undoubtedly adds to that credibility, and it’s understandable why he and his book have received as much praise as they have. Nonetheless, as I will attempt to explain in this review, I think his arguments are weak and his conclusions unsupported.
The book begins with a review of the relationship faith and science have enjoyed throughout history. Meyer is on solid ground when documenting the history of science, and his recounting of man’s march of discovery is readable, detailed, and entertaining. It isn’t relevant to his argument, but it is well-written and informative.
Then we get to the science. Meyer asserts, based on three “scientific discoveries,” these key ideas underlying his argument:
- the universe had a beginning;
- from the beginning (or shortly thereafter), various physical constants have had values that are unlikely to have arisen by chance – that the universe appears to be “fine-tuned”; and
- the genetic coding in DNA represents a kind of “functional” information that is unlikely to have arisen by chance.
I find Meyer’s defense of each of these claims wanting, but, before I critique them, let me make two brief comments, one about the nature of Meyer’s three claims, and the other about the overall thesis of his book.
Meyer’s core argument is that our universe and the life in it are improbable – so statistically improbable as to defy any explanation other than that God designed and created it. It’s difficult to overstate the importance of this: Meyer’s thesis hinges entirely on that alleged improbability.
We can see the probability argument arising from the second and third claims, that of the universe being improbably fine-tuned, and of genetic material having an improbable amount of structure and function. But the first claim is different. It isn’t a claim about probability, but rather part of a necessary precondition to all of Meyer’s arguments. It is essential to his arguments that the universe be finite. It must have had a single beginning; it must eventually end; and there can only be one of them.
Why? Because in order for his statistical arguments of improbability to carry any weight, it’s necessary that the sample space not include an infinite number of instances. This is true because in an infinite number of universes everything that is statistically possible, however statistically improbable, will still happen – in fact, will happen an infinite number of times. And in an infinite number of those instances, the physical constants will have the seemingly improbable values we observe, the seemingly improbable chemistry will have arisen to bring about life such as us, and we will, as improbable as it may seem, be sitting here discussing his book.
Regarding the thesis of his book, I have a problem but I’m not quite sure how to state it. Science, including the science Meyer attempts to disprove in his book, has set itself upon the task of answering the “how, what, and when” questions: how does the world work, what laws govern it, when did or will various events occur? Meyer offers an answer to a question science doesn’t ask: “who?” Meyer wants to tell us who created the universe. He doesn’t attempt to present or defend an answer for any of the questions science asks and seeks to answer.
This seems important to me because it suggests that, contrary to Meyer’s oft-repeated claims, the God Hypothesis actually has no true explanatory power. Rather, it merely claims to name an actor – and an ill-defined actor at that. I wonder, how is Meyer’s claim stronger than this one:
“Some non-sentient but unknown natural mechanism, of which we are as yet completely and utterly unaware, established the conditions under which our observable universe exists and the life within it flourishes.”
That wildly ambiguous claim would at least be rooted in something that is consistent with our universal and repeated experience (as Meyer might put it), that of physical reality and the laws that govern it.
In any case, the fact that Meyer’s hypothesis doesn’t actually answer the questions science asks, and that it opens up a universe of new questions (where did God come from, how does God do what God does, what does the mathematics of God look like, etc.) in the process of not answering them, should give us reason to pause, at least.
Claim: The Universe Had a Beginning
Meyer is a science historian, and his account of the evolution of scientific theory regarding the origin of our universe is readable, detailed, and interesting. Most of what we think of as modern cosmology is quite modern, much of it less than a hundred years old, and some of it only a few decades old. It’s sobering to realize how much of what we know we figured out in just the last 50 years.
Yes, we’re pretty sure that everything in our universe was contained in a microscopic pinpoint about 14 billion years ago, and that that pinpoint expanded with unimaginable speed – and continues to expand today. That idea comports with our observations, and the theory supporting it seems robust. Meyer’s account of how we reached that understanding makes for good reading.
But no, we aren’t sure that the universe had a beginning. We admit that things – matter, energy, physical laws, the nature of space and time itself – were likely very different when the stuff of a billion trillion stars occupied a volume vastly smaller than a pinhead. (How many stars can dance on the head of a pin? All of them, it seems.) But we don’t know how they were different. Nor do we know what came before, nor what prompted the expansion, nor whether it happened exactly once or infinitely many times, or indeed whether or not it’s happening right now elsewhere in our own universe. We speak informally of the Big Bang as the beginning of our universe, but all we really know with confidence is that it was a moment in an evolving series of physical states. We don’t know what states came before, nor what states will follow our own.
Meyer is, in my opinion, too casual in his use of the word “beginning.” In Chapter 6: The Curvature of Space and the Beginning of the Universe, he quotes Stephen Hawking and G.F.R. Ellis as writing (in The Large Scale Structure of the Universe) that the general theory of relativity implies “that there is a singularity in the past that constitutes, in some sense, a beginning of the universe.” (emphasis mine)
What did Hawking et al mean by “in some sense?” I don’t know, and Meyer doesn’t pursue it. But it’s hard to conclude that a beginning “in some sense” is the same as, simply, “a beginning.” And in fact, later Meyer quotes Ellis as observing that some cosmologists now see, in Meyer’s words, “singularity theorems as an interesting piece of pure mathematics, but not as proofs of the beginning of our actual universe.” (again, emphasis mine)
In the same chapter, Meyer quotes Paul Davies, in reference to conditions in the very early universe, as saying: “If we follow this prediction to its extreme….” But must we follow mathematical predictions to their extremes? In particular, when it is widely acknowledged that we don’t know which of our physical laws pertain in the extraordinary conditions in the very early universe, how much stock should we place in predictions followed to that extreme?
It is worth remembering how little we understand of the conditions immediately prior to the expansion of the singularity – assuming there was a singularity. We don’t even know if the view conventionally held, that we can know nothing of the universe prior to the expansion of that initial singularity, is actually correct. We thought it was, but then the late Stephen Hawking made the case that black holes might evaporate through quantum processes, and Roger Penrose theorized that we might find echoes of that evaporation in the cosmic background – echoes of black holes that existed before the singularity itself. We now think that, just a couple of years ago, we may have identified one of these so-called “Hawking points,” these shadows of long-gone black holes of a prior universe, in the cosmic microwave background.
If we did – and it’s still too early to be sure – then the idea that the universe began with the Big Bang will have to be reworked a bit. Indeed, the entire idea of there being only a single universe would be effectively discredited.
Speaking of Roger Penrose, I find the omission of his Conformal Cyclic Cosmology theory odd. Meyer cites Penrose dozens of times in his book, but I’ve found only two references to Penrose’s own recent (2010) theory of how the universe might recur endlessly, both in the footnotes and neither actually engaging the theory. Meyer spends time critiquing less mainstream theories, including that of Max Tegmark whose theory, as Meyer describes it, claims that “every possible mathematical structure imaginable has a physical expression in some possible universe” or, quoting Tegmark now, “All structures that exist mathematically exist also physically.” This seems to me to be a peculiar prioritization on Meyer’s part, and makes me wonder if he is being perhaps too selective in the theories he chooses to present to his readers.
I believe Meyer does his readers a disservice by not accurately portraying the range of multiple-universe theories currently proposed, given that rejecting all of them is critical to his thesis. Meyer requires that there not be an infinite number of universes, either one following another throughout eternity or any number existing simultaneously in parallel. This is perhaps the strongest challenge to his argument from improbability, and it deserves to be treated with more rigor.
Claim: The Universe is Fine-Tuned for Life
Meyer’s second claim is, I think, his strongest, and its defense constitutes the largest portion of his book.
There is a widely held belief that our universe is a very improbable place, and that if any one of a few physical constants differed from its current value by an almost unimaginably small amount, the result would be a universe that could not contain us as observers. Some argue that such apparent precision is unlikely to occur naturally, and so is evidence of intelligence: that these constants were “fine-tuned” to be precisely what is necessary to allow the universe to develop as it has.
This is the core argument Meyer makes, and it can be compelling: accounts of extraordinarily improbable-seeming things can be powerfully persuasive.
But it’s worth considering what is implied by the claim Meyer is making. First, it requires that it be meaningful to speak of “different values for a physical constant,” and it isn’t immediately obvious that that’s the case. After all, we don’t know why physical constants have the values they do, and we don’t know how the various constants might be related to each other through some aspect of physical reality of which we’re still unaware.
Consider Einstein’s theories of special and general relativity. Until barely a hundred years ago we didn’t know that space, time, mass, and energy were mathematically related. We didn’t know that these aspects of the physical world were intertwined in mathematically determined and measurable ways, and that a value in one domain couldn’t be “changed” without influencing the other domains as well.
Now we think we know that most of the handful of (what we think are) fundamental forces and particles are mathematically conjoined, not truly independent of each other. It is no longer safe to assume that any of these things is truly independent of the others. And, just as it is nonsensical to speak of, say, the value of pi changing in relation to the circumference and diameter of a circle – because it is inherently linked to and constrained by both of those things – it may be nonsensical to speak of any given physical constant changing as well.
In particular, to the extent that the apparent fine-tuning of constants related to gravitational attraction is prominent in these examples – and it is – we should be particularly careful, as our best quantum theories still struggle to incorporate gravity, and especially under the exotic conditions of the early universe.
Perhaps there’s some meaning to the idea of certain physical constants “having different values.” It’s certainly essential to Meyer’s claim of so-called “fine tuning.” It is also certainly debatable, and debated.
But, for the sake of discussion, let’s assume for a moment that it’s meaningful to discuss the possibility of physical constants having different values than they do. Meyer’s contention is that, in most of these configurations, intelligent life could not form in the universe that unfolded from these different preconditions.
That strikes me as a very bold claim. To make it, one has to believe both of the following: first, that we can accurately predict the nature of a universe that follows laws other than the laws that govern our own universe; and, secondly, that we have a reasonable understanding of the range of conditions under which intelligent life might arise, and the nature of that life, in universes both like and unlike our own.
It’s worth noting that there is a great deal we still don’t know about the only universe of which we’re aware, the one we can actually observe. And it’s worth noting that we really don’t understand the mechanisms of intelligence, nor the mechanisms by which life emerged, nor whether there is life anywhere else in our universe including on those planets and satellites within reach of our own small blue orb.
Given how new and incomplete our own knowledge is of the universe we inhabit and the rules that govern it, we should be skeptical that we’re capable of anticipating the infinite range of alternative universes that might arise through the modification of various physical constants. Certainly, we have not invested thousands of cosmologist-years in studying these hypothetical alternatives.
Similarly, given that we have exactly one example of life from which to generalize in a universe likely containing literally trillions of planets, it seems prudent to hesitate before speaking with authority regarding which possible universes can and can’t support life.
Claim: The Genetic Code is Evidence of an Intelligent Designer
Put simply, Meyer’s argument here is based on the observation that the genetic code – the encoding of information in the DNA of living things – represents a particular kind of “functional” information storage mechanism that is unlikely to have arisen through purely natural processes. I find this the most unsatisfying of Meyer’s claims.
Meyer argues in his book and in his numerous public appearances that, in our consistent and repeated experience, every instance of such functional information storage is the result of a guiding intelligence. It follows, he argues, that the storage of functional information in DNA must also be the product of a guiding intelligence.
This seems to be such an obviously poor and illogical argument that I find myself wondering if I am missing something profound. But let’s break it down.
- We are aware of numerous examples of the encoding of “functional” information in a structured form, from computer programs to grammars to all sorts of artificial symbolic schemes.
- Our experience with all of these is that they are the product of intelligence. Specifically, they are the product of human intelligence.
- It is, therefore, our uniform and repeated experience that such encoding is the product of intelligence.
- But we are also aware of the encoding of “functional” information in a structured form in the DNA that is found in each of our cells. It follows, therefore, that this information too must be the product of intelligence, since it is our universal and repeated experience that all such information is the product of intelligence.
But wait. That is – at best – a circular argument. If we include DNA in our initial inventory of “functional” information, then it’s no longer our uniform and repeated experience that such information is the product of intelligence. Rather, it’s our uniform and repeated experience that man-made encoding of information is man-made. That says nothing about not-man-made encoding of information.
(On the other hand, it does seem to me that Meyer would be more consistent if he argued that, since every instance of encoded information of which we’re aware is actually man-made, DNA must also be man-made. But that would be an even more absurd argument.)
Instances of functional information storage in DNA both predate and outnumber every form which we can trace to an intelligent source – that is, every form which was created by man. Our actual experience is that every cell in every organism contains a vast amount of structured, functional information for which we can identify no creating intelligence. There is no basis, therefore, for his oft-repeated claim that, in our consistent experience, such storage is an artifact of intelligence, and the fact that he continues to repeat the claim strikes me as peculiar.
Note that this is subtly different from a probability argument. The argument is that it is the consistency of our experience regarding the origin of artificially encoded information that compels us to accept an intelligent origin of apparently naturally occurring encoded information.
The error seems too obvious to be overlooked, too often emphasized by Meyer to be accidental, and, frankly, too flagrant to be wholly innocent. Again, perhaps I am misunderstanding his argument in some way which will be immediately evident when it’s explained to me.
God of the Gaps?
Meyer doesn’t like this phrase, and I can understand why. We humans have a long tradition of invoking deities to fill the gaps in our understanding of the material universe. We have probably done it since our earliest moments of awareness – indeed, the utility of having that comforting and ready answer might, one can easily believe, be why we are inclined to believe in the supernatural.
Meyer has written a book that could have been written at any time during our long quest for understanding. The details would change, the sophistication would vary, but the product would be similar: a man standing on the edge of the unknown surveys the wisest men around him and concludes that, since they have no wholly satisfactory answers, one or another god is the most plausible explanation.
Though Meyer objects to the phrase and argues that he is not engaging in an argument from ignorance, here is how he describes, in Chapter 20, the argument he is making:
Premise One: Despite a thorough search, no materialistic causes have been discovered with the power to produce large amounts of specified information required to produce the first cell.
Premise Two: Intelligent causes have demonstrated the power to produce large amounts of specified information.
Premise Three: Intelligent design constitutes the best, most causally adequate explanation for the origin of the specified information in the cell.
Take a look at that Premise One: “Despite a thorough search….”
What does “thorough” mean, in this context? How does “Despite a thorough search” differ from “Thus far?” What aspect of knowledge does Meyer believe we have exhausted, in our thorough but failed search?
There will always be things we haven’t yet figured out. There will always be a precipice, beyond which is something mysterious and seemingly impenetrable. And there will always be those who stand on the edge and give up on the process and think, I guess God did it.
Of course, they could be right. But they don’t have a very good track record, and I think both science and religion suffer when people engage in this kind of end-run around the humble scientific method, or try to co-opt it to make a theological point. (Similarly, science suffers when scientists try to impugn God with their science. But that’s the mirror image of what’s going on here, and a topic for another day.)
The universe is unimaginably vast, at least 90 billion light-years across and perhaps orders of magnitude larger. It contains perhaps trillions of galaxies, each containing hundreds of billions of stars. It is old, several times older than our own sun, and is full of mysteries.
A hundred years ago our best and brightest argued over whether our galaxy was the only one, and whether the universe was older than we now know our own planet to be. We knew a lot – and, it turns out, we knew almost nothing.
Our best understanding, currently represented by quantum field theory, is bizarre and wildly unintuitive – and yet has wonderful predictive power and astounding mathematical rigor: in some ways, it is the most comprehensive and successful scientific theory ever devised.
It’s too early to throw in the towel.
Published in Science & Technology
If I ever figure out what language you speak, it will be a miracle.
It’s one of the two definitions in the Monty Python skit. It shouldn’t take a miracle.
Dr Jordan Peterson noted that there is no proof that can ever be given for God. If one does not believe, then any and all proof of God’s existence can be explained as something else. I think he is correct on this.
Even the proof that Carl Sagan postulated in Contact is not good enough, because that could be a simulation effect.
Religion (God) and Science are distinct modes of human thought. Science tells us how things happen; Religion tells us why. Saint Augustine, Arahant and Henry would be much calmer this morning to realize this.
That being said, sometimes Science asks us to believe more outlandish things than does Religion. I’m a Christian. I don’t believe, rather I know that Christ walked across the Sea of Galilee during a storm and led Simon Peter, one of his disciples, out of a foundering boat onto the water in order to demonstrate the importance of faith.
I find that knowledge many orders of magnitude more believable than the claim of cosmologists that all of creation once existed in a mass the size of a pin head (or a baseball, or a plum, or what have you). All of creation? All of the stars and galaxies and molecules and atoms and plants and birds and rocks and things–in a mass the size of a pin head? Have you seen how BIG all of this stuff is? Can you imagine the conditions, the necessary forces, to put that all in a mass the size of a pin head?
Give me a break. The God Hypothesis is more believable than Science.
I’m on board with this.
For all the criticism of God of the Gaps idea and falsifiability, Henry has his own concept of an unfalsifiable hypothesis – some concept of “if we don’t know it yet, we will eventually”.
I am likely using “unfalsifiable” wrong in this, but there’s no possible way to disprove such an assertion. Which may be why he stops short of dismissing Meyer simply on the falsifiability argument. His position is weak there, too.
I like Arahant’s comment about Meyer’s puny God and take that criticism seriously and Roberts’ lead paragraph, I think, addresses that well. If science does ever bring knowledge to us, does that push God to the edges of our knowledge? Disprove him? Does he no longer exist where we have scientific knowledge? Can he only exist where we are ignorant? That is what Henry does – that science stands as a measure that God isn’t necessary because there is a natural explanation.
Yes, if the existence of the kids was the real question.
Bad analogy. Usefully bad.
So we see evidence of black holes, another (lesser) instance of wa-a-ay too much crammed into not enough space.
I never saw a man walk across a lake, and neither have you.
You may be right, but calling for evidence on one side while accepting mere assertions on the other is *special pleading*.
Also known as religion trying on Dad’s science shoes.
Henry, you’ve done an amazing amount of work on this book that I’m never going to read.
It seems to me that its core argument can be written on a three-by-five card, and the rest is a shaggy god story.
I’ve heard the argument before, still don’t find it compelling, and I THANK YOU for distilling this tome.
Whoever said otherwise? I’ve known that for decades.
Straw man fallacy on your part. It was not an analogy. It was a question about the structure of an argument.
Yes.
Well, setting aside William James for the moment, anyway. Yes.
I don’t know who that is.
On my profile page, do a CTR-F for “will to believe.”
Or keep not knowing. That’s good too.
I’m not “calling for evidence on one side while accepting mere assertions on the other”. I am holding each mode of thought to its own level of evidence. Religion accepts revelation. Science does not.
Ok, Scientists (myself included), please explain the proto-universe in the head of a pin.
And I have often seen men walk across lakes, including Lake Erie. The conditions merely need to be right.
You are denying the direct comparison you just made, and now you are being silly with words about walking on water. Okay, ice. Yes, that’s exactly what we were talking about. Take that back to Sunday school and they’ll tell you too.
If any detect a disturbance in the Force near me, it is because of people who don’t know the difference, yet are called experts. Henry and I have both stated that it is a matter of different questions.
I have. Of course, I live in a cold, continental climate and winters can be cold. But that’s not what you’re talking about. 😜
Tremendous effort on the review @henryracette, hopefully more people than I will have the stamina to parse it and the underlying assumptions to integrate it into their worldview.
I hate the argument about the improbability of life. And the variants like the unusual properties of water (the weird fact that solid form floats otherwise the ocean and lake bottom would be covered in ice all the time so it must have been a divine tweak…).
This line of argument is as if God is a mildly incompetent creator who needs to keep intervening because he wasn’t smart enough to effect a complete design from jump. These kinds of “proofs” strike me as silly and vaguely self-contradictory.
Consider that if Hawking et al. are right, when there was no time or space (so we can’t say where or when) an infinitely dense particle whose nature and properties cannot be described by what we know as the laws of physics expanded for reasons we do not know and within a tiny fraction of a second gave rise to a gazillion cubic whatever of space containing countless galaxies etc. And all of the “laws” of nature and the potential for life were already there, built-in. And life happened because it could (or arguably because it was supposed to happen). The abstract question as to why there is something rather than nothing needs to be informed by the sheer Wow! factor of the something.
If God did it right (not a huge “if”, by the way) then the seamless perfection of it all should all be intelligible and thus susceptible to a scientific understanding. If we are reacting to the whole of that amazing outcome properly, the sense of wonder (pace Aristotle) should take us on a line of inquiry apart from the mere sum of naturalistic understandings. The very fact of the beauty and order from scientific understanding itself should prompt something other than footnotes and satisfactions that come up short. The idea that we will find God in exceptions or the limits and failures of science always seemed like a dumb place to start.
Regarding that “theory,” “hypothesis,” “conclusion” discussion: call it what you will, one of the rules of science is that nothing is ever final. That’s how the process works, and what separates it from being a faith-based system in which an idea is declared immune to challenge. The problem with introducing unfalsifiable ideas into a scientific discussion is that it short-circuits the process of science, since the unfalsifiable idea is inherently privileged over all other ideas.
This doesn’t mean that the unfalsifiable idea is wrong. The God Hypothesis could be correct; we certainly have no way of falsifying it. Unfortunately, because it can’t be tested, it isn’t compatible with the processes of science, and it does damage to those processes when it’s shoe-horned in.
Amen.
Amen again. As I’ve written many times, the problem with these pseudo-scientific arguments purporting to validate matters of faith is that they undermine both science and faith. They distort the scientific process which, as imperfect as it may be, represents our most reliable method for understanding the natural world. And they reduce the question of God’s existence to a debating topic in the forum of (bad) science. Both science and God deserve better treatment.
I certainly do understand the desire to find evidence of God in the natural universe, Roderic. Shoot, it’s even a biblical idea, per Romans 1:12: “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse.”
And I share the sense of awe and wonder that comes from looking at the vastness and mystery of the universe. One of the things I’ve most enjoyed about reading Meyer’s book is that it’s prompted me to read up on the state of physics and cosmology, something I haven’t done for years. The more we learn, the more amazing the universe seems. I’m struck both by how much we don’t yet know and by how much we do think we may have figured out, and by the apparent robustness of the mathematics and theory. (The predictive power of quantum theory is astounding to me; I hadn’t paid any attention as the field has raced forward.)
Well… maybe. I’m not quite as confident about that we-know-nothing-before-the-big-bang thing as I used to be. But I agree with you that what we don’t know is vast, and I expect it always will be.
I think so, though even in this there are nuances. There’s the view that science and religion describe different worlds, the idea that they describe different aspects of the same world, and the idea that they describe the same world but in different ways. I simply think it’s prudent for men of science to refrain from engaging in the methodology of religion, and for men of religion not to tie themselves to the methodology of science.
Yes, it probably is. That’s why Meyer’s title misses the point: the God Hypothesis hasn’t returned, as it’s never left. There have always been people who will fill in the gaps in our knowledge with something numinous. Meyer does it with more scientific panache than most.
Respectfully, Stina, that’s incorrect. I’m not sure that we’ll figure everything out. I’m not sure that God doesn’t exist, that the universe has a purely materialistic explanation, or that science is leading us to a correct understanding of what is and what isn’t. I just think that history has made a compelling case that the plodding and narrow methodology of science is our best hope for avoiding the flights of fancy and assertions of privilege that tend to undermine other approaches to understanding. Science seems to work at answering questions about the natural world in a plausible way.
This reminds me of a moment in Meyer’s book that I didn’t mention, but that struck me as interesting. Meyer defends Isaac Newton from a claim sometimes made that Newton invoked God when he needed a reason for the planetary orbits to be “adjusted” and made correct. Some have cited this as an example of Newton filling a gap in our knowledge with divine intervention. Meyer makes a convincing case that such claims are mistaken, and that Newton believed that the regular motion of the planets was a result of the forces of gravity, and not a consequence of God’s ongoing direction. Fair enough.
However, he also quotes Newton as saying (and I don’t have it in front of me) that, while the motion of the planets is not controlled by God, the placement of the planets in their orbits was. I wondered, when I read that, just what I was supposed to make of that distinction. Thinking about it now, I suppose that the moment of the placement of the planets might have seemed, to Newton, to coincide with the creation of the universe. If so (and it does seem likely), that seems to make Newton’s position vis a vis God pretty consistent with that of the modern Intelligent Design enthusiast. (Though, to be fair to Newton, Meyer actually calls for a continuing involvement of/intervention by God in the natural universe for at least some significant time after the creation event.)
For the record, I like religion. I think we are drawn to it, that it often serves us well, and that it fills a gap evolution has left in us. I don’t think science is very much endangered by religious thought; I think hubris and other mundane human foibles are the great danger faced by scientists, as by everyone else. Nor do I think Meyer’s book will do much harm to religion: I think history has already accomplished that through the innocent process of scientific advancement gradually obviating the need for non-scientific explanations.
I just don’t like to see bright people who aren’t really that scientific having the wool pulled over their eyes by dodgy arguments eloquently presented.
It does this, but it doesn’t answer why we should or should not adopt certain morals. Science cannot explain why humans are different than other animals, in fact, it is used to consider humans as no different.
Science is great for exploring the world God created. But only God gives us a way to live in it and use our discoveries for good and not evil.
I do not understand why religion and science find themselves so at odds, excepting in our complete rejection of a creator as we marvel at our own brilliance. The two can coexist harmoniously and may even need or require each other to be done well.
Because people like Meyer keep mixing up which is which. Lots of scientists are believers in God. Lost of law enforcement officers (LEOs) are believers in God, too, but that doesn’t mean they should try to prove God exists through police work.
Stina, I think you’re exactly right. As I mentioned, Meyer offers an answer for a question science isn’t asking: Who created the universe? He might also suggest why the universe was created, because that question (as normally interpreted) carries an implication of intent that presupposes a creator — and, again, is outside of the purview of science.
One of the things I love about organized religion is that, when people gather in church for a service, it represents one of the very few times — and perhaps the only time — most of us ever assemble in pursuit of abstract good. There’s something beautiful and noble about that. I have no patience with scientists who denigrate that expression of the human need to seek a purpose greater than simple survival and material comfort.
I appreciate this (and any book review). You read a book that hits a nerve. It’s always hit a nerve. I want to read your full review but it’s lengthy, so I’ll just say this for the moment. Science attempts to prove many things, and here, the ultimate question. Remember the 60’s and 70’s – Time Magazine – is God dead? That was an interesting time where we combined the metaphysical and science.
However, I don’t think that science can offer a spiritual picture. In fact, according to science, there is no spirit. For believers, the human person is body, mind, soul and spirit. Science can explain the physical, but cannot answer many questions, probably many posed in this book. That doesn’t mean there is a right answer. This is a timely subject, for this book as well, given the times we are living in.
PBS Space Time with Dr. Matt O’Dowd discusses this point. He says that no one today believes that. He also points out that at the earliest time in the existence of the Universe, atoms and molecules didn’t exist. I won’t try to convey his concepts, in part because I’m not sure I grasped them well enough to do so. I’ll just say the series is well worth watching.
According to materialism there is no spirit.
Science isn’t interested in the spirit unless there are physical phenomenon that can be measured associated with the spirit.
Django, I’m sure Dr. R was speaking poetically. No, no one believes that the universe as it is today was condensed into a microscopic dot. However, there’s considerable reason to believe that all of the matter and energy in the universe today was, at one time about 14 billions years ago, squeezed into that little dot. Of course, at that density there were no particles we’d recognize, just a slush of unimaginably high temperature and pressure.
It seems to me that this should be the ideal, but I wonder how many scientists actually follow this philosophy. I know some Global Warming (ahem…..Climate Change) scientists and advocates who are pretty sure that they’ve figured out things with absolute certainty.
Yes, those “scientists” say the science is settled. That’s a key indicator they are hacks at best.
I don’t think that’s a fair characterization. Christianity and Science were doing just fine until a new generation of scientists decided our knowledge exceeded the need for a God. How much of Meyer is a poor example of apologetics, which is a defense of faith, not a proselytizing or debate function, but to edify the believer?
There is a need to build up believers in the face of onslaught from science minded atheists. We need to be capable of justifying our faith to ourselves and fellow believers.
I might agree that Meyer’s arguments aren’t great. But that doesn’t mean Christians don’t require a means to defend themselves against atheist scientists.