Further reading:

Unweaving
the Rainbow
by Richard Dawkins
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“Science
bumps the ceiling of the corporeal plane…. From the
metaphysical point of view its arms, lifted toward a zone of
freedom that transcends coagulation, form the homing arc of the
‘love loop.’ They are science responding to Eternity’s
love for the productions of time.” This grandiose bit of
poetical nonsense concludes a chapter of Huston Smith’s Forgotten
Truth dedicated to put science in its place. Smith is one of
the world’s foremost authorities on religions, and his aim is
to demonstrate that science is not an omnipotent force that can
answer all questions posed by humanities. That is, science needs
to be put in its place.
Fair
enough, although I don’t know of any scientist who would claim
otherwise. Contrary to what many anti-intellectuals maintain,
science is by nature a much more humble enterprise than any
religion or other ideology. This must be so given the
self-correcting mechanisms that are incorporated into the
scientific process, regardless of the occasional failures of
individual scientists.
But
what is most astounding in Smith’s essay is his attempt to
develop a parallel between science and mysticism in order to
“demonstrate” that the world’s great religions are capable
of insights at least as powerful as science’s because they
actually use similar tools. Let us then briefly examine this
alleged parallelism and in the process try to understand what
the proper place of both science and religion ought to be.
Smith’s
first insight is that science and religion both claim that
things are not as they seem. For example, you have the
perception that the chair on which you are sitting is solid, but
modern physics will tell you that it is made of mostly empty
space. This, apparently, is analogous to the following bit from
C.S. Lewis: “Christianity claims to be telling us about
another world, about something behind the world we can touch and
hear and see.” Never mind, of course, that physicists can
bring sophisticated empirical evidence to support their claim
about the emptiness of space, while Christianity is made up of a
series of fantastic and contradictory stories backed by no
evidence whatsoever.
Second,
according to Smith, both science and religion claim that the
world is not only different from what we perceive, but that
there is “more” than we can see, and that the additional
part is “stupendous.” Of course, electrons, quarks and
neutrinos are “more” than we can see, although they are
stupendous only to those few scientists who spend their lives
working on them. Well, this is apparently the same as
Shankara’s “notion of the extravagance of his vision of the summum
bonum when he says that it cannot be obtained except through
the merits of 100 billion well-lived incarnations,” a
cornerstone of some Indian sacred text. I hope you are starting
to appreciate the depths of the similarities between science and
religion. But wait, there is more.
The two quests for truth also share the
quality that this “more” that they seek to explore cannot be
known in ordinary ways (otherwise, presumably, one would need
neither science nor religion to get there). Science’s ways
lead to apparent contradictions, such as in the case of some
aspects of quantum mechanical theory. To which Smith juxtaposes
some gems from the Christian literature that he says uncannily
resemble modern notions of quantum physics. For example, did not
Nicholas of Cusa (De Visione Dei) write that “the wall
of the Paradise in which Thou, Lord, dwellest is built of
contradictories,” pretty much like the dual particle-wave
nature of light? And did not Dionysius the Areopagite (The
Divine Names) say “He is both at rest and in motion, and
yet is in neither state,” thus anticipating Heisenberg’s
indeterminacy principle? I am not making the examples up—these
are Smith’s very own.
Fourth, both science and religion have
found other ways of knowing this “more” which cannot be
accessed by our ordinary senses. The language through which
science accomplishes this is mathematics; the one of religion
is, of course, mysticism, which Smith describes as a
“comparably specialized way of knowing reality’s highest
transcorporeal reaches” (whatever that means). This, according
to Smith, is “not a state to be achieved but a condition to be
recognized, for God has united his divine essence with our
inmost being. Tat tvan asi; That thou art. Atman is
Brahman; samsara, Nirvana”. Yes, of course.
The fifth parallelism is that in both
science and religion these alternative ways of knowing need to
be properly cultivated. A scientist needs to dedicate a lifetime
to her education and research if she wants to make a
contribution. This is apparently similar to the asceticism of
saints because, as Bayazid ‘correctly’ pointed out, “The
knowledge of God cannot be attained by seeking, but only those
who seek it find it.”
Finally, in both science and religion
profound knowing requires instruments. In science, these are
microscopes, telescopes and particle accelerators. In religion,
the equivalent is provided by the Revealed Texts, “Palomar
telescopes that disclose the heavens that declare God’s
glory.” If gods who dictate texts are not palatable to you,
there is an alternative: “Spirit (the divine in man) and the
Infinite (the divine in its transpersonal finality) are
identical—man’s deepest unconscious is the mountain at the
bottom of the lake.” Get it?
I would not have bothered the reader with
this mountain of nonsense if it came from the local
televangelist screaming bloody hell against the humanists’
corruption of the world. But this is Huston Smith, one of the
most respected intellectual exponents of modern religionism, one
who is hailed as offering the deepest insights that not just
one, but all the world’s religions can offer!
This is a maddening example of what
Richard Dawkins (in Unweaving the Rainbow) called “bad
poetry.” Metaphors make much of the world’s literature a
pleasure to read, but they can also be exceedingly misleading.
There is no parallel whatsoever between science and religion.
One can practice one or the other or both, but to pretend that
they yield common insights into the nature of the world is an
intellectual travesty. To go further, as Smith and so many
religionists do, and assert that science is arrogant because it
claims to provide the best answers to a circumscribed set of
questions is astonishing, especially when the alleged
alternative is so obviously the result of Pindaric flights of
imagination. Now, here is my modest proposal: what if religions
would treat themselves to a little dose of humility? Imagine
what the world would be like in that case.
Next Month: "Whence Natural
Rights?"
a fundamental and difficult question for humanists
© by Massimo Pigliucci, 2000
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