And so, with the “catless grin” hovering over us like an omen, let’s begin this journey with some background. Since the 19th century, science had affected the way people thought about themselves and their world. Classical science, expressed especially in the monumental work of Newton, was confident of the essential finality of its achievements. Most people believed that all the basic matters had been discovered—the major battles had been fought and won and only “mopping up” operations remained. The achievements of science, given minor adjustments, would be valid for the indefinite future.
What was accomplished, it was thought, was a “picture” of reality. The basic stuff of the world consisted of solid, material particles. Time and space were absolute and fixed. One confronted an objective world which could be observed as a spectator. It might be a little dizzying, but what one could comprehend was a “picture of reality.”
Then the scientific revolution of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, particularly in physics, but also in biology, challenged all of this and exhibited a striking contrast in mood—think of Curie, Planck, Einstein, Heisenberg, Turing, Hawking. Except in popular distortions, all attempts to provide a “picture” of reality, even of a limited kind, were abandoned. Insofar as scientific “models” are employed—such as, for example, of the atom or the DNA molecule or the universe at large—they are constructs, employed to help us understand how the elements of scientific studies appear to work, not how they look.
It’s no wonder, then, that contemporary science seems “stranger” than that of any previous period. It’s difficult, therefore, for non-scientists—and I absolutely include myself—to understand. Without the specialists’ knowledge of higher mathematics and high speed computers, there seems to be no way into the mystery. It was easier to think of the fundamental elements of all things as indivisible material particles—itty-bitty pieces of matter—than to think of energy and electrical charges. It was also easier, once upon a time, to think of the earth or sun as the center of the universe than to realize that there isn’t any absolute center—or if there is, we can’t find it.
To come a step further, when one combines the concept of relativity with theories concerning nature and the extent of the universe, imagination is lost in incredible dizziness!
- Who can imagine a neutron star, a pulsar, collapsing on itself until a piece of it the size of a sugar cube contains a mass equal to Pike’s Peak—to say nothing of Black Holes with infinite density?
- Who can picture a curved cosmos, with time and space comingled so that no one can tell where “whenness” leaves off and “whereness” begins?
- Or an electron traveling 186,000 miles a second passing through a glass wall without leaving a trace of its transit?
All of that can be said or put into mathematical formulae, but not envisioned or conceived. There is, in short, no imagination commensurate with the vastness and complexity of the universe contemporary science is disclosing.
Percy Bridgeman, a Harvard Professor and a mid-20th century Nobel Prize Winner in Physics, once said:
“The structure of nature may eventually be such that our processes of thought do not correspond to it sufficiently to permit us to think about it at all. It is literally true that the only way of reacting to this is to shut up. We are confronted with something truly ineffable.”
Presumably, then, I should just shut down these reflections and “go home.” But, no such luck! Because no one is shutting up about it. It seems to be in our nature that we must try to understand. And yet, the more one reads, it would seem, the more obvious it becomes that that there is little clarity on the subject. Writers disagree about the proper subject of science and about its appropriate methodology—there seems to be little patience with the notion of a single method or pattern.
What, then, is this science, which is one of humanity’s major tools—and now, perhaps, the ascendant one—for trying to understand our world in all its manifestations? The definition of science, the need to understand it, has itself become a philosophical problem. And on that note, let me offer the following observation:
The effort to understand is not a passing whim or foible; it is no game for a leisure hour or “lyric cry in the midst of business.” It is central to the very nature and existence of humanity; it is what has carried us from somewhere in the slime to the lofty but precarious perch where we now rest . . . .To anyone who sees this, philosophy needs no defense. It may help in practical ways, and of course it does. But that is not the prime reason why people philosophize. They philosophize because they cannot help it, because the enterprise of understanding, ancient as humanity itself, has made us what we are, and alone can make us what we might be. (Adapted from Brand Blanshard, “The Philosophic Enterprise,” in Charles J. Bontempo and S. Jack Odell, ed. The Owl of Minerva: Philosophers on Philosophy (1975).)
And so, against this brief background, we will forge, or limp, on in the confidence, typical of philosophy—at least for this once-upon-a-time practitioner—that the justification and the satisfaction is as much in the journey as it is in the destination. My intent in the next post is to offer a characterization of modern science that is faithful to the reality of its function and its practitioners, but also, inevitably, from a humanist’s perspective.
These musings are an adventure in process, so subsequent posts will arrive as they coalesce into reflections of shareable substance. Do follow along if you have the interest and the patience.
4 Responses
Once again, I appreciate your valiant efforts to be point person in the continuing effort to know what may, in fact, be unknowable. What’s it all about, Alfie?
And I can’t control my impulse to add to the conversation. You note that “scientific ‘models’ … are constructs.” It is my current thinking that all religious doctrinal systems are constructs. That is, as I now see things, they are ways of thinking that attempt to explain, justify and guide behavior. They are reactions to observable aspects of life, the most simple being something on the order of: Bad stuff (things not in our perceived self-interest) happens. Something or someone must cause that. As Ezra Klein points out in his Jan 2020 book, “Why We’re Polarized,” (great book, by the way), there seems to be a genetically coded human need to have an enemy. So, let’s call the originator of things we don’t like, Satan. Good things (actions in our self-interest) also come about. If we can’t find a way to take personal credit, we may get the idea that some external being made it so. We could call that God. We construct a set of beliefs that provide an enemy and something to save us from that enemy. That doesn’t mean the religious construct is not useful in deep and meaningful ways. Usefulness, on the other hand, is a long way from absoluteness.
This is not well fleshed out, but sort of where my mind is leaning…And your note forced me to try to put into words rambling thoughts roaming aimlessly in my head. And I am well aware that last sentence points to a construct that surely has no objective basis.
Like Alfie, I still wonder what it’s all about. However, unlike the general sense of the movie, it does not feel like despair or ennui; it seems liberating to think, Aha, that may not be it, but seems to point in a direction that is productive. Or maybe that is simply the lingering feline grin?
Well, Wow!! Thanks, Joel, for such a creative and well said comment. I am fascinated with the direction in which you took it, particularly since what I hear you saying is pretty much where I am in my religious understanding. Now, let me back up a bit and be sure it is clear that the use of the term “constructs” comes out of the vocabulary of science, certainly not something I came up with, but something I discovered in some of the reading I did to try to be at least minimally prepared to to write about a subject In which, as I acknowledge, I am no expert.
That said, I am really impressed with your application of the term to religious doctrinal systems and I think you are on to something. Just as the constructs that science uses—which, as we know, last only until better and more productive ones come along—they are considered accurate and useful “for now.” But as you say, and I agree, useful is not the same as absolute.
And as for “rambling thoughts roaming aimlessly in my head,” were it not for them, I wouldn’t be writing blogs! Once again, I am deeply appreciative of your consistent ability to find more meaning—or at least clues to more—in what I write than I had thought of, or even would have. I hope you’ll keep it up and I will be particularly interested in where your thinking about constructs as applied to religion may take you. I hope you’ll let me come along for the ride.
I have heard for years the term “construct” as it pertains to a system of thoughts but never quite saw any direct application to things that concerned me until a few weeks ago a lawyer on a TV show commented that the law is a construct, and requires interpretation to be meaningful. It was suddenly clear to me that religious doctrines are also constructs and require interpretation to be helpful.
A related matter is that many years ago, largely influenced my Bruce Evans (my pastor, counselor and friend from my Baton Rouge days, whom I have mentioned to you before) I came to see religion itself as a metaphor. That is, a religion outlines a point of view that attempts to explain things and guide behavior but which is beyond direct, concrete description. That was useful to me. Instead of getting so frustrated over dogmas that too often fly in the face of science and, often, common sense, I began to see all religious teachings as ways humans beings have tried to describe an experience or point of view that seems impossible to contain in concrete language.
Thanks again for prodding my thinking, and giving me an incentive to write out some things I have felt but seldom expressed.
Over time, I have come to pretty much the same conclusions you have, Joel. Although the “triggers” and the “aha moments” have been different, it has been a long and thoughtful journey. I guess I hadn’t thought of religion itself as a metaphor but given that I see it as made up primarily of metaphors, mixed in with some highly filtered and interpreted history, metaphor could easily serve as the “umbrella” descriptor.
Of course, most of the literature that supports religion–some of which birthed it and some which attempts to convey it–is usually offered as having come through the inspiration or the revelation of God. There is, as far as I know, no way to prove or disprove that, but given that anyone can claim that God has spoken to them or through them, and every religion lives in a silo, making essentially the same claim for singular and unique divine legitimacy . . . . Well, you see where I’m going.
I am delighted, by the way, that you have found some motivation to write these things, because it is important to you that you do it, your sharing it with me has prodded my own thinking, and–as I keep telling you–you have a gift for this kind of writing as well as memoirs and I really think you should do more of it!