Family Man

When considering the relationship between science and religion, there appears to be two major images. The first is that of two armies, continually sniping at each other, and occasionally holding pitched battles. The other is of two old fishing buddies, in perfect accord, with nary a cross word between them. I find both images to be oversimplistic and not supported by the historical record. I submit that a third image is more appropriate, that of two acquaintances -- very complex and deep acquaintances -- whose relationship is informed by the perceived conflict or affinity that scientific findings have to the theological constructs prevalent at the time and in any particular community.

A little common sense ought to give us a prima facie reason to believe that this is an accurate depiction of the situation. Imagine that you are a believer whose theology includes a literal interpretation of the Bible, a 6000-year old earth, and special creation of the human race by a being you regard as your God. Are you threatened by geologists who classify rocks, that examine strata, that study volcano eruptions or the causes of earthquakes? Probably not. Unless you have an interest in such things, you probably wouldn't even care. But if those geologists tell you that the Earth is billions of years old and that fossils found support a scientific theory that rules out special creation, you almost certainly would look at those same geologists with a certain amount of hostility. This is precisely the situation we have today with millions of believers in creationism.

What I am proposing is that where science is perceived to step on theological beliefs, conflict occurs. Where science appears to support theological beliefs, we have friendship. For most scientific inquiry, however, the best description is probably indifference. It is this view that I believe the historical record supports.

In this essay, I am going to review the history of the relationship between the history of science from the beginning of Christianity to the aftermath of Galileo's trial in the seventeenth century. In essence, it is the history of the Catholic Church with respect to science. All of the facts I present will be taken from an anthology of history essays called God and Nature: Historical Essays on the Encounter between Christianity and Science. The interpretations, while I don't think incompatible with what has been presented in this book, are my own and any errors belong to myself.

Tertullian (ca.155 - ca. 230) wrote a couple of passages widely considered to be hostile to science:

No one would claim that Tertullian was a friend to science. He railed against those who "indulge a stupid curiosity on natural objects, which they ought rather [to direct intelligently] to their Creator and Governor." But is he really hostile, or is he simply declaring the primacy of his belief system? What we see in Tertullian is a theme that will be repeated in this story: a man convinced of the truth of his belief and convinced that all, including reason and science, must point to this truth. He wasn't hostile to reason, but considered it subordinate to faith. As Lindberg put it "philosophy and the philosophical life were not to be replaced or repudiated, but to be Christianized." Thus, Tertullian could also write: "reason...is a thing of God, inasmuch as there is nothing which God the Maker of has not provided, disposed, ordained by reason." And Augustine could write: "Therefore, in certain matters pertaining to the doctrine of salvation that we cannot yet grasp through reason -- though one day we shall be able to do so -- faith must precede reason and purify the heart and make it fit to receive and endure the great light of reason." These writers saw science, in the words of Philo Judaeus, as a "handmaiden to theology". And a point to consider is that much of what appears to be a lack of conflict is often due to the religious defining either their beliefs or science to make them compatible. I doubt that those tout the compatibility of science and religion today have the same attitudes as the early Church leaders.

Thus, while early Christians certainly viewed reason with suspicion, they were eager to use it to further their beliefs -- and rail against it when it threatened. Christians at the time did participate in intellectual life. Basil, Bishop of Caesaria, wrote a philosophical defense of the Genesis story of creation in the 4th century. Augustine frequently used Greek concepts to elucidate his theological ideas. John Philoponus wrote extensively, not against philosophy itself, but against many of Aristotle's views -- including such scientific concepts as the relationship between an object's weight and it's falling speed.

Simply put, however, the general attitude of early Christians towards science was, in the words of Lindberg, that of secondary or tertiary importance. "Next to salvation and the development of basic Christian doctrine, it was decidedly insignificant."

This basic indifference can be seen in what survived the Dark Ages. If Christianity wasn't overtly hostile to science, it wasn't its friend either. According to Edward Grant, science knowledge in the 12th century consisted of "a few of Aristotle logical treatises, some medical works, two-thirds of Plato's Timaeus, a few astrological books, and especially a series of Latin encyclopedic handbooks written by Pliny, Solinus, Calcidius, Martianus Capella, Boethius, Calcidius, Isidore of Seville, and the Venerable Bede." This paltry list, along with the 800 year jump we just made, is a testament to the indifference with which Christians viewed secular learning during the Dark Ages. And, in fact, most of the material that Christians "rediscovered" during the Renaissance came from not what they preserved, but what they got from Arab sources.

The first result of this Renaissnance was a revival of the philosophy of Aristotle. In the 13th century, Aristotle became de riguer and the core of curriculum of the schools of the time. A good part of Thomas Acquina's fame is his attempts to reconcile Aristotle with Christianity. This adoption, however, did not go without scrutiny. More conservative theologians scanned Aristotle and found a number of propositions they found inimical to the Christian faith, resulting the Condemnations of 1270 and 1277 where a total of 232 ideas were declared in error and adoption of them could result in excommunication.

What were these theologians afraid of? Much of Aristotle's philosophy appeared to contradict the doctrine of God's absolute power. For example, both Christianity and Aristotle asserted that there was only one world. But Aristotle claimed it was impossible for other worlds to exist. This was considered a unacceptable limit on God's power. God may not have chosen to make more than one world, but he certainly could if he had wanted to. Here is a clear example of science stepping on the toes of theological concepts, and the Church striking back.

Having said that, however, an important point has to be made. This controversy, as sharp as it was, was an aberration of its time. From the 12th to the 16th century, there is no other record of conflict between science and Christianity. If it demonstrates the unease that science could cause in religion, it is hardly emblematic of a "war" between the two institutions.

Another development from this controversy was that of "fictionalism". These early scientists faced a dilemma: they desired to discuss these topics, but they ran the risk of the wrath of the theologians. This was not an unimportant issue. When John Buridan researched the nature of vacuumns, he was reproached by superiors for interfering in theological affairs. The solution was to discuss these matters hypothetically. This was fictionalism. All could be discussed that approached theological considerations, as long as no one proclaimed it to be true and contradict the theologians. This, in fact, would be considered Galileo's sin: he put his fictional disclaimer in the mouth of Simplicio, the idiot of the piece, implying that the reader shouldn't take it very seriously.

From here, we must move to the 16th and 17th centuries, to the most famous example of conflict between science and religion -- Galileo and the heliocentric system. But to do so we must understand the situation of the Church at that time.

The Catholic Church of that time was one that was reeling from the shock of the Reformation, which split the church in two. It exposed corruption in the Church -- which was acknowledged and addressed in the Council of Trent -- and it challenged the Church theologically. There, Catholicism took on a more combative tone. The Inquisition was beefed up to fight heresy and the Society of Jesus founded to spread the message of Catholicism. These were not symbolic acts. Condemnations of intellectual works increased after the Council, and the Index of Prohibited Books swelled. The Platonic chair at that University of Sapienza was discontinued on the grounds that Platonic thought would likely cause heresy. In the words of William Shea, "Tommaso Campanella, Francesco Pucci, and Giordano Bruno were imprisoned for their ideas. Pucci perished at the stake in 1597, Bruno in 1600." While the Inquisition may not have been a bonfire in the town square every night, and these persecutions may not have been for scientific views, this was not a time to lightly challenge the Church.

It is with that backdrop that the heliocentric system of Copernicus was developed. Published in 1543, it became widely known and widely discussed -- in the fictionalist mode -- but not widely believed. One scholar identified only seven scholars that could be said that believed that the heliocentric system was the correct system. The Church considered Copernicanism such a non-entity that it was not proscribed -- it could be discussed by scholars as much as desired.

All that changed in 1609 -- the year that Galileo got his hands on a telescope. Evidence, such as the phases of Venus, came to light that supported the heliocentric theory. Galileo's observations, supported by Jesuits, only increased his fame and brought him great honors, including membership in the Accademia dei Lincei.

It is instructive to review the attitudes of the major participants. It must be remembered that Galileo was a very religious man. He could have avoided the trial altogether had he accepted Venice's offer of asylum. He preferred to face the sanction of his Church. In fact, he thought he was helping, not harming his faith. Nor were the church heirarchy implacably opposed to innovation. The stance of the Church could be summed up in the words of Cardinal Bellarmine:

In many ways, this is a respectable skeptical stance. But it must be remembered that, if Bellarmine represented the cautious conservative establishment, there were other more zealous elements in the Church. For example, a unsigned document purportedly received by Galileo in 1616 that ordered him "not to hold, teach, or defend in any way whatsoever that the earth moves" is quite possibly a forgery. Without that document, it is possible that the trial of Galileo might never have occurred.

This leaves us to wonder: what were they concerned about? It was more than just expelling man from the center of the universe. Theological concerns included the location of heaven or hell. As strange as this seems to us, heaven and hell were considered real places with actual locations at the time. One of the satisfactions of the geocentric theory was that by placing hell in the center of the Earth, it would be as far as possible from heaven, which was conceived of being in the sky. That would no longer be true if the earth moved. A similar concern was expressed about the ascension of Jesus (if the earth was revolving around the sun, then how could he ascend to heaven?).

While the Church would put scripture ahead of science until absolute proof was provided, Galileo took a much different stance:

Given these varying viewpoints, conflict was inevitable.

De Revolutionibus Orbium Caelestium was placed on the Index in 1616. Nevertheless, it can't be said that Copernicanism was suppressed. In fact, placement on the Index did not mean that Copernicus's book couldn't be bought or owned, but only that certain passages were supposed to be edited out -- which few did. And there is little doubt that Galileo hurt his own cause. He overstated the degree to which he could prove heliocentrism (his evidence was suggestive, but not conclusive). And he certainly misread the attitudes of the powers that be. Nevertheless, to claim that Galileo forced the Church to discipline him is lathering on the whitewash rather thickly. Had the Church not proscribed Copernicanism, there would have been no need to punish at all. The actions of the church in prosecuting Galileo did much to harm it's reputation, even at the time. As Shea states, "Milton was right in believing that the whole episode had the effect of inhibiting scientific speculation in Catholic countries...Science and religion were to both suffer from the clash, and what could have been a fruitful dialog proved to be a bitter feud." And, in fact, it wasn't until 1832 before official Catholic objection to Copernicanism was dropped.

Another defense that is often employed is to suggest that Galileo's trial was an isolated incident. It wasn't. One of the concerns of the Council of Trent was the suppression of magic, on the grounds that it may cause consortion with demons. One of the effects of this was the persecution of alchemists, which included imprisonment of major figures of the time. The result is that no Catholic scientist made a contribution to the new science that grew out of alchemy, chemistry, that developed in the 17th century. In addition, according to William Ashworth:

That doesn't mean that science completely disappeared from the Catholic scene. Catholicism produced two of the major scientists of the 17th century, Descartes and Pascal (who, for all his religiousity, would ridicule the Pope's stance on heliocentrism), and numerous minor ones -- but mostly in France, where the Church exerted little control (and Descartes lived in the Netherlands mostly). In addition, one odd source of Catholic science was the Jesuits. Not only did they confirm many of Galileo's observations, but they were one of best practitioners of experimental science of the time. They made contributions in the studies of electricity and the development of the barometer. And yet, they remain minor figures in the course of the Scientific Revolution. This is partly due to their religious stance. Staunch advocates of fictionalism, they couldn't allow themselves to come to steadfast scientific conclusions. Giambattista Riccoli, for instance, listed 14 possible explanations for the appearance of new stars -- and all were treated as being equally likely. One has to wonder, therefore, what would have happened had the Church exerted the same amount of control throughout Europe as it did in Italy.

Clearly, it cannot be said that there was no conflict between religion and science. But as I think I've demonstrated, it would be an overstatement to say that the Church was at war with science either. At best, the Catholic Church's attempt to control science in the 17th century was limited and unsuccessful. Nor is that the end of the story. It is now my intention to continue reading and tell the Protestant side of the story in a future post.

Finally, I'd like to say that I don't expect this post to settle anything. What I hope it does is to provide food for thought for both sides of the dispute, and maybe stimulate a fruitful dialog, rather than a bitter feud.

Bede

Family man,

Thanks for this and sorry I missed it. In general, a good summary although the death of science in Catholic countries seems a bit over done. France was certainly an extremely Catholic country (just ask Voltaire!) and spawned the greatest chemist of all time, Lavoisier (who had his head cut off by the Jacobins - the only important scientist to actually be executed, I think).

Also, note that although the Arabs were important in transmission initially - most ancient texts came from Byzantium, not Islam. Certainly the texts found in the Renaissance rather than the 12th century were exclusively Byzantine or still sitting in monastic libraries. Islam was far more important for its original thinkers like Razes, Avicenna and Averroes.

I look forward to the sequel.

Yours

Bede

Bede's Library - faith and reason

Family Man

Thanks.

To an extent, you have a point. One of the problems of history is that we tend focus on the sexy and fail to put it into proper context, which I may have done. But I do think your treatment vastly under estimates the negative effect the church had at the time in the countries it did control, primarily Italy and Spain, and that is the greater sin in my opinion.

That brings me to one of the dissatisfactions I have with the Lindberg/Numbers book. It treats the history of ideas well, but doesn't put it in social context. The Church (in this case, meaning the papal bureaucracy) never had the control of France in the way it did Italy and Spain. France served as a rival Catholic power center during the great schisms; it supported Protestant countries during the Thirty Years' Year (because it feared the Catholic Hapsburgs more); Church appointments were made by the Monarchy; and the Inquisition never had any power there. One of the untold stories here is how the institution strength and weakness of the Church in various areas effected intellectual freedom. And in France, the Church never had much power compared to the monarchy, so it's not surprising that it participated in the growth of science, especially considering it's comparative wealth.

That doesn't mean that French intellectuals didn't have to dodge the religiously close-minded -- you yourself brought up Voltaire -- but for the most part religious resistance was pretty ineffectual.

Yeah, the Jacobins were stupid (and irrational) to think that rationalism could be instituted by force. And surely you know that Lavoisier wasn't killed for his scientific opinions.

That's not the impression I got from Lindberg/Numbers, but I'm open to the evidence you have to support this. It seems possible to me and not inconsistent with the thesis I've presented.

Heathen Dawn

Yes, that’s the image I fully embrace.

Hugo Holbling

Why? Family Man has already explained why he considers the conflict metaphor inadequate and it is apparently no longer held by scholars in the history of science. Where do you think these analyses fail?

Heathen Dawn

I simply don’t think science and religion are compatible. Both science and religion are concerned with what is real, and science’s stance is in direct conflict with religion’s stance.

Family Man

Given religion's ability to continually redefine itself, I doubt we can say that religion is incompatible with anything, which is religion's strength and weakness at the same time. Yeah, there are some religious views that are incompatible with science. But there's nothing stopping anyone from saying that religion tells us about X and science tells us about Y, and there's no conflict there. Conflict is not inherent.

godmustbecrazy

in the present form religion will always be in conflict with science because science changes.but religion doesn't change.
the most religious people do is to interpret the holy book differently and then they claim that look what science has discovered now has always been there in our holy book.they say that earlier they were interpreting wrongly and their latest interpretation is the correct one.

Hugo Holbling

That is a particularly uncharitable interpretation of religion and i would think FamilyMan's OP deserves more. Can you justify your assertion that religion (in the general sense you employ) is unchanging and claims as you suggest?

lpetrich

A lot depends on what's meant by "religion". The more fundamentalist sorts certainly get into trouble a lot with science.

And thanx, Family Man. I'm looking forward to more from you on this subject. It's curious that the theologians had objected to Buridan's discussion of vacuum -- I wonder what was theologically disturbing about that.

And fictionalism seems like an awkward way to do theory.

Lavoisier got in trouble for two reasons.

He had participated in the Ferme Générale, a corporation that collected taxes for the govenrment. It was hated because its participants would collect more taxes than they were hired to and would use the remainder to live lives of luxury with.

He had also rejected the application for admission to the French Academy of Sciences by a certain Jean-Paul Marat, calling his writings worthless. But that gentleman became a French Revolutionary leader, which gave him a chance for revenge.

He was guillotined, and the mathematician Lagrange noted