God: The Failed Hypothesis?

Stokes closes this part of the book, with this question: Could science ever show that God doesn't exist?
For those who are already committed to believing that naturalism is true, then of course God cannot exist. Stokes quotes from scientist Lee Smolin:

It is true that the universe is as beautiful as it is intricately structured. But it cannot have been made by anything that exists outside it, for by definition the universe is all there is, and there can be nothing outside it. And, by definition, neither can there have been anything before the universe that caused it, for if anything existed it must have been part of the universe. So the first principle of cosmology must be "There is nothing outside the universe."

One way to show that God does not exist is to assume the impossibility of his existence. Here, naturalism assumes that nothing can exist outside the universe. Ok...can you prove that? No. It is a presupposition.

Another approach to proving God does not exist is to assume that people believe in God as a source of explanation. How else can we explain this "beautiful" and "intricately structured" world? If science can show that there's a perfectly natural explanation for the universe, then this would remove the reasons for believing in God. This seems like a reasonable argument, but it falls short because - for the vast majority of people - they don't believe in God because his existence provides the best explanation for the world and everything in it. It's mostly quite the opposite: People already believe in God and, therefore, he becomes the source of explanation of the universe. Scientific theories that challenge my beliefs may cause some consternation, but I'm not going to abandon my believe in God because God is not fundamentally a scientific hypothesis that is subject to inference. It is the result of a personal revelation and relationship with him. Credo ut intelligam: "I believe so that I may understand" not "I understand in order that I may believe."

And even if scientists like Hawking were entirely successful in their arguments, the most they may be able to show is that it's not impossible that God didn't create the universe. They offer an alternative explanation. OK. But an "it's not impossible that God didn't create the universe" argument is not that impressive. Hardly a slam dunk.

To end this chapter, Stokes poses a "what if": What if science can show that it can explain everything and that there is no being such as God. It is nowhere near accomplishing this, but Stokes concedes the point for sake of argument. Suppose Hawking and friends are right. What follows from this?

In the last part of the book, Stokes explores the state of morality in a world without God.

God and Physics

In this chapter, Stokes brings home the notion that physics is not good at metaphysics; that is, physics helps us a lot in the observable realm, but is not trustworthy at all regarding the unobservable realm. Stokes summarizes:

Let’s land the plane on the whole discussion and turn to the question of whether science has shown that God doesn’t exist (or, more modestly, that it provides at least some good evidence that he doesn’t). It seems to me that we can say with a modicum of confidence that if science doesn’t get it right about the basic elements of nature – the constitution and behavior of matter, energy, and spacetime, for example – then there are good reasons to doubt what it says about such “unobservables” as God, angels, demons, the soul, and the afterlife. Even if none of these existed, science wouldn’t necessarily be the most reliable source of this gloomy news.

But Stokes also warns about “religious physics-based metaphysics” too. This is interesting. Thinkers like William Lane Craig and Hugh Ross use scientific theories to provide evidence of God’s existence. They will use theories about dark matter and quantum mechanics to demonstrate that science and faith are aligned. The apologetic is: If you believe in science, you should believe in God. But as we have seen, scientific theories come and go. When they go, does evidence for God go with them? We need to be cautious in making these connections.

This type of evidence is often used in the intelligent design argument. As we study life around us, things look designed. Evidence from how humans build things spills over to how God builds things. We infer design from evidence. Stokes argues for caution even here. He thinks this notion of design comes not from inference, but from a God given instinct (Stokes does not cite this, but Romans 1:19 might help here) to form belief in God, what John Calvin calls sensus divinitatis. Interesting and something to think about. Either way, the point is we need to use caution when attaching God’s existence to temporal and often erroneous conclusions from scientific inference.

God give us science so we can learn about him and his world. Like many things in life, we do not see things perfectly. It’s the nature of a fallen world. But we are getting better at understanding his world through science. Why doesn’t God just show us the truth all at once instead of allowing us to fumble around and learn about his universe just a little at a time? I don’t know. As Stokes points out, it’s analogous to the problem of evil. We don’t fully know why God allows horrible atrocities to occur in this life. But we do know that all things – even evil things – work together for good. They are part of his plan.

The failures – and the triumphs – of science are also part of his plan. In the end of this age, perhaps then, it will all be perfectly clear.

Unraveling String Theory

Newtonian physics ruled the day until the early 1900's when quantum mechanics and Einstein's general relativity shocked the scientific world. Together, these two theories seemed to account for the entire universe: quantum mechanics takes care of the subatomic world, while general relativity handles everything else. However, neither one by itself can explain how the universe works and their explanations for how the universe works are completely incompatible with one another. Physicist Brian Greene writes, "When the equations of general relativity commingle with those of quantum mechanics, the result is disastrous. The equations break down entirely." Physicists have been living with this problem for decades because, basically, the discipline is bifurcated: "In all but the most extreme situations, physicists study things that are either small and light (like atoms and constituents) or things that are huge and heavy (stars and galaxies), but not both. This means that they need use only quantum mechanics or only general relativity...." However, physicists do need a theory that can combine or unify these disparate phenomena for situations where both theories could be used simultaneously, like when studying the center of a black hole.

Stokes continues with a study of the pursuit of a unifying theory. Currently, this involves the development of superstring theory or string theory. I won't try to explain this theory in a couple of sentences - you can Google it if you are interested. M-Theory is apparently the mother of all string theories, but even that is a network of theories, which - according to Stephen Hawking - "is good at describing phenomena within a certain range." So, it's a unified theory comprised of many theories. Interesting. For all of its relative beauty and elegance, however, there is little observable evidence for string theory. Author Peter Woit wrote the following:

No matter how things turn out, the story of superstring theory is an episode with no real parallel in the history of modern physical science. More than twenty years of intensive research by thousands of the best scientific papers has not led to a single testable experimental prediction of the theory.

Obviously, the situation in physics is obviously vastly more complicated than what I could cover here, and I'm certainly in no position to critique the scientists' efforts. But it does seem clear that the bases for scientific theories - that is, what is actually happening beyond what can be observed - are not on rock-solid ground. For example, if general relativity and quantum mechanics are irreconcilable then doesn't at least one of them have to be wrong? As aether served as a good predictor of behavior in the real world, but got the explanation - the "why" wrong - could this be the same fate of these two theories?

Could be? Maybe? Probably? Stokes' point is that it's reasonable to be cautious about science's explanations of phenomena even within their own purview. Shouldn't we then be cautious about scientists' claims about the existence - or non-existence - of God? Scientists - as good, sober skeptics - should be wary. So why aren't they?

It's Hard to Argue with Success

Let's be clear: science works. The fruits of science include airplanes, computers, lasers, cell phones, x-rays, MRIs, men on the moon, and tons of other successes. But the fact that science "works" does not cede the point that while science can predict observable phenomenon, we should be skeptical of what science says about those parts of the world we cannot observe. There are innumerable examples of real-life observable phenomenon being susceptible to more than a single interpretation or theory. Consider again Copernicanism and geocentricism. Both were able to accurately predict the movement of heavenly bodies; in other words, the math worked for both. But the theories differed as to the why; from the ground there was no way of knowing which explanation for the movements was correct, but one of them was wrong.

Stokes provides a list of other instances in which the reasons offered by science for observable phenomenon turned out to be wrong. In the 19th century, for example, aether (or ether) - a substance that existed to transmit electromagnetic or gravitational forces - was "better confirmed than any other theoretical entity in natural philosophy!" Aether theories made startling predictions about observable phenomenon, and yet got it wrong when it came to what goes on behind the scenes. In other words, while aether does not exist, things were discovered and predicted as if it did! Given its track record in the history of science, it seems that we should as least be wary about how much stock we put in current theories - that is, theories that "work" to help make discoveries and predictions based on false assumptions - given the frequency with which theories are overturned. The mechanics of the theories can be correct, but the explanations for those mechanics could be wrong.

So, for example, while modern theories of quantum mechanics and general relativity have been subjected to ridiculously rigorous testing, it could be learned - as with aether theories - that while the science works, theories may not. Consider this: Newtonian physics and Einstein's theories may be able to predict the occurrence of gravity (after all, we went to the moon on these predictions), but their notions of why an object gets pulled to the surface, (e.g., following curved space) may not; no one can see the force. An equally plausible and yet equally unobservable explanation could be that God is individually holding each of us in place, pulling that individual apple down to earth, and allowing each rocket to leave the earth and enter space. Since God is consistent and unchangeable, the predictability of gravity could reflect the consistency of his character acting on the universe. This cannot be disproven. As we mentioned last week, individuals choose explanations that seem most "plausible" given a stunning array of ideas, assumptions, beliefs, and worldviews. To wit: In his book, Grand Design, Stephen Hawking writes that although the Big Bang model of the universe's origin is more useful than the Genesis account, "neither model can be said to be more real than the other."

Stokes concludes the chapter:

...perhaps, given that we can't be sure that our theories tell the truth about unobservable reality, we should rest content with empirical adequacy. That is, maybe we shouldn't insist that a theory tell us the truth about unobservable subatomic particles or gravitational fields, as long as the world behaves as if there are such entities.

Like aether.

Real Science is the Hardest

This is the third and last entry related to chapter 6 in Mitch Stokes' book, How to be an Atheist. We left off yesterday with the notion that "the beliefs we have strongly influence the beliefs we form." So, when it comes to scientists, what beliefs do they have? Stokes describes how scientists undergo training that is extremely formative and very effective, and prepares them for membership in a unique culture: "Ever after, scientists tend to look at the world differently, through a different set of lenses." A worldview.

Textbooks often depict science as a relatively neat and hygienic accumulation of knowledge, spending little time on chronicling science-related dead ends, misfires, and failures. In a way, that makes sense and is quite practical; there is so much to know that just learning about the successes is a herculean task. But with that, science gains a reputation of cool reason, sober observation, and, in some sense, infallibility. Science education also teaches students what kinds of authorities to trust; Stokes writes: "This is crucial, because most of what a scientist knows - indeed most of what each of us knows - is by way of testimony, from what others tell us." While the reputation of science is as a discipline of objectivity and skepticism, in many ways, it tends to orbit around a shared collection of community-accepted sources of knowledge.

Stokes goes on to discuss how existing theories (from these community-accepted sources of knowledge) influence observation, which in turn influences theory, which influences observation: "We have here a kind of scientific hermeneutic circle, even for something as apparently objective as seeing. Seeing is believing, but the converse is true too." And once a theory is in place it's hard to let it go. Humans often hold onto their beliefs as long as they can and will do whatever it takes to keep a belief system in place. Scientists are no different; they don't give up on a theory immediately when trouble arises. They will often take heroic steps to save it. This is not a bad thing; all theories are challenged by data points. If scientists gave up on every theory that was challenged by anomalies in the data, no theory would get off the ground. But commitment to a theory can also lead to a "save the theory at all costs" disposition. A disproven theory can threaten one's life's work and, like with most humans, work often becomes our identity - who we are. To abandon a theory could leave a person without purpose and hope. Pride also is a factor. So, you can see why a scientist could hold onto a theory despite the evidence that sober skepticism elicits.

Perhaps, scientists are only human after all.

Real Science is Harder

In this second part of the discussion on chapter 6, we'll look at the fundamentals of scientific inquiry: (1) Observation, (2) Hypothesis, (3) Prediction, and (4) Experiment. First, we observe something, a phenomenon, and then we want to know why it occurred. We speculate by creating a hypothesis, the best explanation for what we've observed. In other words, we come up with a theory to explain why the world behaves this way. But remember: we don't observe theories and hypotheses; they are "stories about the physical drama unfolding behind the scenes." To determine which ones are better than others, we compare how well they predict the world's behavior through predictions and experiments. We test them to see if they have prophesied correctly! Given all of this, keep in mind what Stokes is trying to demonstrate: on what basis does science claim that God's existence is unlikely? If science is bound to their own scientific methodology, are they using that methodology to draw their conclusions about God or something else?

One complication in constructing a scientific theory (model) is that there is usually more than one theory or hypothesis that will match the observations. Remember my wet friend example? There were at least three explanations for why he was wet; I chose the one that I thought was more plausible. It's possible that someone else with different experiences and information (e.g., did not know rain was in the forecast) could have drawn a different conclusion. From a historical science perspective, both helio- (sun) and egocentricity (earth) theories matched observations about the movement of the sun, and could predict those movements. But at least one of them was wrong.

So how does one know which explanation is best? Well, it's complicated. You could say, "All things considered, this is the best one" but that's too simplistic. In my wet friend example, two people could "consider all things," and still come up with different explanations. In many ways, explanations for phenomena are greatly influenced by what we already believe about the world and the way it works. Stokes notes: "In the debate about heliocentricity [the sun revolves around the earth], many factors other than observation played a role in the debate on both sides: beliefs about Neoplatonism, the nature of Scripture, the authority of Aristotle, the authority of the Catholic Church,...and so on." So, we can say with some certainty, that " the beliefs we have strongly influence the beliefs we form. Old beliefs shape new beliefs." Scientific inquiry - like all inquiry - is shaped by belief. Credo ut intelligam.

One more post on this tomorrow.

Real Science is Hard

When I started this series, I said I wasn't going to go through the book systematically, but I guess I am. I think to understand Stokes' approach, I have to provide at least some insights into each chapter. The next chapter is pretty long and gets into considerable detail about how science works...and it's a bit hard to understand; thus the title of this post. I'll try to cover all of it in one post.

According to Stokes, science has brought humans tremendous advancements and...it works! But just because it has been successful in many areas of human endeavor, this doesn't mean that it is right about everything. In this chapter, Stokes demonstrates that even where it shines - in the world of physical reality - it gets things wrong: "And if science likely gets things wrong about earthly things, why would we believe it when it comes to heavenly things?" While the scientific method is often presented as clear-cut, objective, and fool-proof, we'll see that it is more complex than that and it is as human as every other human endeavor; that is, it is prone to human quirkiness.

Inference is the key to the scientific method and is at the heart of theory-making. When something is inferred it is not directly observed. If a friend of mine comes into my window-less basement and he's soaking wet, I'll infer that he was caught in a rain storm even though I didn't see the rain or him running through it. Of course, it's also possible that he ran through a sprinkler or went swimming fully-clothed, but the most plausible explanation based on my life's experience and the limited data I know about the outside world (rain was in the forecast) is that he was caught in the rain. So, when we talk about inference and theories we are attempting to explain - why do things appear this way. A theory is an explanation. And as you can see in my simple example - inference to the best explanation - is not always straight-forward; there are typically other explanations. In general, then, we can say that science is in the business of inferring theories. Stokes sets up the rest of the chapter with this:

But no matter how well a theory predicts or represents observable phenomena - no matter how well it is supported by this agreement with observation - it is still a theory, simply because it is inferred and not observed. Not only is evolution 'merely' a theory, but so too are general relativity and quantum mechanics, the most well-attested scientific theories humans have devised. The real question is this: how good are our reasons for believing them; how good are our inferences?

I guess this will take more than one post. See you next time.