Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws

J >> James Buchanan >> Modern Atheism under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, Development, and Natural Laws

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It is not correct to say that the argument of design, is _a mere
argument from analogy_. Were it so, it might, like many another process
of mere analogical reasoning, yield no more than a probable conclusion
or a plausible conjecture. But in the case before us, the conclusion is
strictly and properly an _inductive inference_. It may be suggested by
the perception of _analogy_, but it is founded on the principle of
_causality_. It is capable, therefore, of yielding, not a mere
_probability_, but an absolute _certainty_. The fact that analogy is so
far concerned in the process cannot weaken a conclusion which rests
ultimately on a fundamental law of reason, the ground-principle of all
induction. It is true, no doubt, that were we destitute of the conscious
possession of intelligence, will, and design, we should be utterly
incapable of forming these conceptions, or applying them to the
interpretation of Nature; and in a loose sense, it may be said that we
are guided by the analogy of our own experience to the belief in an
intelligent First Cause; but mere analogy would not produce that belief
without the great law of causality, which demands an adequate cause for
every effect, nor is this law deprived of its necessary and absolute
certainty merely because it comes into action along with, and is
stimulated by, the perception of obvious analogies. Is it not equally
true, that it is only by our own mental consciousness that we are
qualified to conceive of other minds, and that we are, to a certain
extent, guided by analogy to the belief that our fellow-men are
possessed, like ourselves, of intelligence and design? But who would say
that this conclusion is no more than a _probable_ conjecture, or that,
depending as it does in part on the analogy of our own experience, it
cannot yield absolute certainty? In so far as it is _merely_ analogical,
it might be only more or less probable; but being founded also on the
law of causality, it is an inductive inference, and, as such, one of the
most certain convictions of the human mind.

And so the argument derived from marks of design in Nature may be stated
in one or other of two ways:--it may be stated _analogically_ or
_inductively_. The difference between analogy and induction, which is
not always duly considered, should be carefully marked. Analogy proceeds
on _partial_, induction on _perfect_ resemblance. The former marks a
resemblance or agreement _in some respects_ between things which differ
_in other respects_: the latter requires a strict and entire similarity
_in those respects_ on which the inductive inference depends. The one by
itself may only yield a _probable_ conjecture, but the other, when
combined with it, may produce a _certain_ conviction. Accordingly the
design argument may be thrown either into the _analogical_ or the
_inductive_ form. Stated _analogically_, it stands thus: "There is an
ascertained partial resemblance between organs seen in art and organs
seen in nature; as, for instance, between the telescope and the eye.

"It is probable from analogy that there is in some further respect a
partial resemblance between organs seen in art and organs seen in
nature: in art the telescope has been produced by a _contriver_, analogy
makes it probable that in nature the eye also will have been produced by
a _contriver_."

But stated inductively, it stands thus: "If there be in nature the
manifestation of supernatural contrivance, there _must_ exist a
supernatural contriver.

"There is in nature the manifestation of supernatural contrivance.

"Therefore a supernatural contriver,--God,--must exist."[284]

Combine the perfection of analogy with the principle of causality, and
you have not only the _verisimilitude_ or _likelihood_ which prepares
the way for belief, but also a positive proof resting on a fundamental
law of reason. The inference of intelligence from marks of design in
nature is not one of analogy, but of strict and proper _induction_; and
accordingly we must either deny that there are marks of _design_ in
nature, thereby discarding the _analogy_, or do violence to our own
reason by resisting the fundamental law of causality, thereby discarding
the inductive inference. And of these two unavoidable alternatives, Mr.
Holyoake seems to prefer the former: he will venture to deny the
existence of design in nature, rather than admit the existence of design
and resist the inevitable inference of a designing cause; for he is
compelled in the long run to come round to this desperate confession,
"What I supposed to be _design_ in the opening of my argument is _no
longer design_. My reverend friend is wrong in supposing that I _admit
design_, and yet refuse to admit the force of the _design argument_."

But if he mistakes the general nature and conditions of the argument
when he speaks of it as if it were a mere argument from analogy, his
_extension of the analogy_, and the reasonings founded on it, are
equally unjustifiable and inconclusive. He forgets that analogy proceeds
on a partial resemblance in _some respects_, between things which differ
_in other respects_, and that even induction itself requires a perfect
resemblance only _in those respects_ on which the inference depends.
There may be such a resemblance between the marks of design in nature
and in art as to warrant the inference of a contriver in both; and yet
_in other respects_ there may be a dissimilarity which cannot in the
least affect the validity or the certainty of that inference. It is only
when we _extend the analogy_ beyond the inductive point, that the
conclusion becomes, in some cases, merely probable, in others altogether
doubtful. If we advance a step further than we are warranted to go by
obvious and certain analogies, our conclusions must be purely
conjectural, and cannot be accepted as inductive inferences. From what
we know of this world, and of God's design in it to make Himself known
to His intelligent creatures, we may infer, with some measure of
probability, that other worlds may also be inhabited by beings capable,
like ourselves, of admiring His works, and adoring His infinite
perfections; but if we go further, and infer either that all these
worlds must _now_ be inhabited, or that the inhabitants must be _in all
respects_ constituted as we are, we pass far beyond the point to which
our knowledge extends, and enter on the region of mere conjecture. And
so when Mr. Holyoake extends the analogy, so as to include not only the
marks of design, on which the inductive inference rests, but also the
forms of organization, with which in the case of man, intelligence is at
presented associated, although not identified, he goes beyond the point
at which analogy and induction combine to give a _certain_ conclusion,
and introduces a conjectural element, which may well render his own
inferences extremely doubtful, but which can have no effect in weakening
the grounds of our confidence in the fundamental law, which demands an
adequate cause for the marks of design in nature.

Mr. Ferrier has shown that "the senses are only _contingent conditions_
of knowledge; in other words, it is possible that intelligences
different from the human (supposing that there are such) should
apprehend things under other laws, or in other ways, than those of
seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, and smelling; or more shortly, _our_
senses are not laws of cognition or modes of apprehension which are
binding on intelligence necessarily and universally."--"A contingent law
of knowledge" is defined as "one which, although complied with in
certain cases in the attainment of knowledge, is not enforced by reason
as a condition which _must_ be complied with wherever knowledge is to
take place. Knowledge is thus possible under other conditions than the
contingent laws to which certain intelligences may be subject; in other
words, there is no contradiction in affirming that an intelligent being
may have knowledge of some kind or other without having such senses as
we have."[285]

The application of analogy as a principle of judgment is subject to
certain well-known limitations, which cannot be disregarded without
serious risk of error. They are well stated by Dr. Hampden: "There are
two requisites in order to every analogical argument:--1. That the two,
or several particulars concerned in the argument should be known to
agree in some one point; for otherwise they could not be referable to
any one class, and there would consequently be no basis to the
subsequent inference drawn in the conclusion. 2. That the conclusion
must be modified by a reference to the circumstances of the particular
_to_ which we argue. For herein consists _the essential distinction
between an analogical and an inductive argument_. Since, in an inductive
argument, we draw a general conclusion, we have no concern with the
circumstantial peculiarity of individual instances, but simply with
their abstract agreement. Whereas, on the contrary, in an analogical
argument, we draw a particular conclusion, we must enter into a
consideration of the circumstantial peculiarity of the individual
instance, in order to exhibit the conclusion in that particular form
which we would infer. Whence it follows, that whilst by induction we
obtain absolute conclusions, by analogy we can only arrive at relative
conclusions, or such as depend for their absolute and entire validity on
the coincidence of _all_ the circumstances of the particular inferred
with those of the particular from which the inference is drawn." Again:
"The circumstances _to_ which we reason may be considered of threefold
character. They are either known or unknown. If they are known, they are
either (1.) Such as we have no reason to think different, in any respect
from those under which our observations have been made; or (2.) Such as
differ in certain _known_ respects from these last. (3.) They are
unknown, where we reason concerning truths of which, from the state of
our present knowledge, from the nature of our faculties, or from the
accident of our situation as sojourners upon earth, we are totally
ignorant."[286]

With these necessary limitations, suggested by the different
circumstances in which analogy is applied, we shall have little
difficulty in disposing of Mr. Holyoake's _extension_ of Dr. Paley's
argument. Not content with resemblance _in some respects_, he requires a
sameness _in all_. He would exclude all dissimilarity, forgetting that
analogy denotes a certain relation between two or more things which in
other respects may be entirely different. We may see a resemblance
between the marks of design in nature and the ordinary effects of design
in art; and that perception of design gives rise to an intuitive
conviction or inductive inference of a designing cause: thus far we
proceed under the guidance of analogy, but on the sure ground of
induction. If we go beyond this, and insist that the designing cause
must be _in all respects_ like ourselves, that if we be organized, He
must be organized, that if we act by material organs He must act by the
same, we exceed the limits of legitimate reasoning, and enter on the
region of pure conjecture. But such conjectures, groundless as they are,
and revolting as every one must feel them to be, can have no effect in
shaking our confidence in the valid induction by which we infer from
marks of _design_ in nature the existence of a designing Cause.

It can scarcely be necessary to enlarge on the gratuitous assumptions on
which this _extension_ of the argument is made to rest;--such as that
"every person is organized," that "all power is a mere attribute of
matter," that "no man ever knew of thought distinct from an organization
in which it was _generated_." The only fragment of truth that can be
detected in these assumptions is the fact that we have, in our present
state, no experience of intelligence apart from the organization with
which it is here associated: but will this warrant the inference that
intelligence _cannot_ exist apart from organization, or that the one is
the mere product of the other? It may be a good and valid inference from
the marks of design in nature, that a designing cause must exist; for
this inference, although suggested by analogy, is founded on induction,
which requires a perfect resemblance only _in those respects_ on which
the inference depends. But to go beyond this, and to insist that the
designing cause must be organized, because we have _no experience_ of
intelligence apart from organization, is to make our experience the
measure of possible being, and to exclude, surely on very insufficient
grounds, all notion of purely spiritual personality. In "extending the
analogy beyond the Paley point," Mr. Holyoake is arguing from the
particular case of man to another case, which resembles it in some
respects, but may differ from it in others; and similar as they are in
the one point of living, designing intelligence, they may, for aught he
knows, differ in many other respects. And this we hold to be a
sufficient answer to his argument, especially when it is combined with
the consideration that the assumptions on which that argument is based
are purely gratuitous, namely, that "every person is organized," and
that there is no "thought distinct from an organization in which it is
_generated_." By these assumptions, his theory connects itself with the
grossest Materialism; and that subject has been sufficiently discussed
in a separate chapter.

But in truth we regard the whole discussion on organization as a huge
and unnecessary excrescence on his argument, for he would have come to
his point quite as effectually, and much more directly, had he said
nothing at all about an organized being, and insisted merely on one,
whether material or spiritual, possessing powers of intelligence,
contrivance, and design; for it is evidently on the existence of such a
being, and not on the arrangements or adaptations of his organic parts,
that his main argument depends, namely, that such a being implies also a
contriver, and that again another, and so on in an endless series.
Whatever force belongs to his argument lies here: it consists, not in
the evidence of design arising from material organization, but in the
necessity of a cause adequate to account for a being possessing
intelligence, purpose, and will. The existence of an endless series of
such beings is impossible, and the supposition of it is absurd; and Mr.
Holyoake himself admits a self-existent, underived, and eternal
Being,--a being exempt, therefore, from all the conditions of time and
causality to which others are subject,--while he ascribes the origin of
intelligent, self-conscious beings to Nature, which is "neither
intelligent nor self-conscious," rather than to God, the father of
spirits, Himself a Spirit, infinite, omniscient, and almighty. He
ascribes the existence of intelligent, self-conscious, personal moral
agents to a power called _Nature_, which he cannot venture to call "a
person," nor even "an animal being," and of which he "cannot predicate
with the Pantheist the unity of its intelligence and consciousness." His
theory, in so far as it is intelligible, seems to have a stronger
affinity with Pantheism than he appears to suppose. Were he to define
the meaning of the word Nature,--a word so often used in a vague,
indefinite sense,[287]--he would find that his idea bears a close
resemblance to that of the German school,[288] who speak of the first
being as the _Indifference of the different_,--a certain vague,
undetermined, inexplicable entity, possessing no distinctive character
or peculiar attributes, whose existence is necessary, but not as a
living, self-conscious, and active being, while it is the cause of all
life and intelligence and activity in the universe; in short, a mere
abstraction of the human mind. To some such cause, if it can be called a
cause, Mr. Holyoake ascribes all the phenomena of the universe; or he
leaves them utterly unaccounted for, and takes refuge in an eternal
series of derived and dependent beings, without attempting to assign any
reason for their existence. He undertakes to account for nothing. He
leaves the great problem unsolved, and discards it as insoluble. "Mr.
Harrison demanded of me, where the first man came from? I said, I did
not know; I was not in the secrets of Nature." "I cannot accept, says
one, the theory of progressive development, it is so intricate and
unsatisfying." "If something must be self-existent and eternal, says
another, why may not matter and all its properties be that something?"
"The Atheist holds that the universe is an endless series of causes and
effects _ad infinitum_, and therefore the idea of a _first_ cause is an
absurdity and a contradiction."[289] In short, the eternity of the world
is assumed, the origin of new races is left unexplained, and no account
whatever is given of the order which everywhere exists in Nature. In the
last resort, he takes refuge in the plea of _ignorance_. His only answer
is, "I do not know, I am not in the secrets of Nature."

But how does his extension of Paley's argument justify the position
which he now assumes? Or how can it invalidate the admissions which he
had previously made? That extension of the argument, even were it
supposed to be legitimate, amounts simply to this, that a designer must
be an organized being, and, as such, must have had a cause. But what
analogy suggests, or what law of reason requires, an _infinite series_
of such causes? And what is there in this extension of the argument that
should exclude the idea of a First Cause? It is thought, indeed, that by
connecting intelligence with organization, we may succeed at least in
excluding His infinity, His omnipresence, and other attributes which are
ascribed to the Most High: but the main stress of the argument rests not
on the fact of organization, but on the supposed necessity of _an
endless series_ of contrivers to account for the existence of any one
intelligent being, whether organized or not is of little moment. Now,
this is a mere assumption, an assumption entirely destitute of proof, an
assumption which is not necessarily involved even in the proposed
extension of the analogy: for all that the analogy, however extended,
can possibly require is a cause adequate to the production of designing
minds, and that cause may be a self-existent, underived, and eternal
Being. Let the analogy be extended ever so far, it must reach a point at
which we are compelled, by the fundamental law of _causality_, to rise
to a self-existent Being, exempt from all conditions of time, space, and
causality. Mr. Holyoake admits the very same truth in regard to Nature
which we maintain in regard to God: "I am driven to the conclusion that
Nature is eternal, because we are unable to conceive a state of things
when nothing was.... And in the eternity of matter, we are assured _of
the self-existence_ of matter, and self-existence is the most majestic
of all attributes, and includes all others;" it is "the power of being
_independent of the law of other beings_." Now, what is there in the
proposed extension of the analogy that should exclude the idea of a
self-existent First Cause, or shut us up to the admission of an endless
series of designing causes? And still further, what is there in the
proposed extension of the analogy which should invalidate the argument
from design, or induce Mr. Holyoake to _give it up_, and to withdraw
the concessions which he had previously made in regard to it? These
concessions must be supposed to have been honestly made in deference to
the claims of truth, and they are not in the least affected by the
extension of the analogy. It is still true, if it ever was, _that order
prevails in Nature_; and this is admitted: "If by Atheism is meant the
belief that all that we see in Nature is the result _of chance_, of a
fortuitous concourse of atoms, nothing would be so absurd as Atheism.
Nothing can be more evident than that _law and order_ prevail in Nature,
that every species of matter, organic or inorganic, is impressed with
certain laws, according to which all its properties and movements are
regulated.... In denying, therefore, the existence of a personal,
intelligent Deity, we do not admit that there is any chance,
contingency, or disorder in Nature: we do not deny, but absolutely
affirm, the constant and universal operation of _law and order_. This we
do, because it is a matter of fact of obvious and daily
experience."[290] Again, it is still true, if it ever was, that _design
implies a designer_; and this, says Mr. Holyoake, "I am disposed to
allow; and that this designer must be a person, I am quite inclined to
admit. Thus far goes Paley, and, therefore, thus far I go with him. His
general position, that design proves a personal designer, is so
_natural_, so _easy_, and so _plausible_, that it invites one to admit
it.... Paley insists upon it as a legitimate inference from his
premises, nor would it be easy to disturb his conclusion.... This is
Paley's reasoning upon the subject, and it is too _natural_, too
_rigid_, and too _cogent_ to be escaped from." Now, what is there in the
proposed extension of the analogy that can invalidate either of these
admissions, or that should induce us to set aside both? Extend the
analogy ever so far, it is still true that _law and order_ prevail in
Nature, that design implies a _designer_, and that a designer must be a
_person_. And how does Mr. Holyoake save his consistency? Simply by
stretching the analogy till it snaps asunder; he begins by extending,
and ends in destroying it; he admits it at first, merely "to see where
it will lead and what it will prove," and finding that it must imply an
organized designer, and an endless series of such beings, "he gives it
up," and denies the existence of _design_ altogether. There is a
_hiatus,_ it would seem,--an impassable gulf,--between the admission
that _law and order_ prevail in Nature, and the conclusion that _law and
order_ are manifestations of _design_: "What I supposed to be design in
the opening of my argument is _no longer design_. My reverend friend is
wrong in supposing that I admit DESIGN, and yet refuse to admit the
force of the _design argument_," On the supposition, then, that _law and
order_ are manifestations of _design_, the design argument might be
valid and conclusive: but "_no conceivable order_" could prove the
existence of God; why? Because no conceivable order could be a
manifestation of _design_. But how is this proved by the extension of
the analogy? Does it not amount to a denial of the analogy itself? And
is it not an instructive fact that his abortive attempt to disprove the
design argument, results, not in the denial of the _inductive
inference_, but in the exclusion of the very _analogy_ which he proposed
to extend, not in shaking the validity of the proof, but in disputing
the fact on which it is based? The extension of the analogy cannot prove
either that law and order are _not_ manifestations of design, or that
there may be design without a personal designer; all that it could
prove, even were it legitimate, would be the existence of an _organized_
instead of a _spiritual_ Being, which, on the supposition of its
self-existence,--a supposition which is not excluded by the argument,
since that majestic attribute, which may be fairly held to "include all
others," is expressly admitted,--neither requires nor admits of an
infinite series of contrivers.

4. Secularism denies the truth of a special Providence, and also the
efficacy of Prayer, while it justly holds both to be indispensable for
the purposes of practical religion.

The importance of these doctrines is strongly declared, and sometimes
illustrated with much apparent feeling, by Mr. Holyoake himself: "There
is more mixed up with the question than the mere fact as to whether some
Being exists independently of Nature; for instance, if any man would
debate whether there existed a Divine Being, whether a Providence, who
was the Father of His creatures, whom we could propitiate by prayer in
our danger, from whom we could obtain light in darkness, and help in
distress,--if any man debated a proposition like this, I should say
there was much of great practical utility about it.... If you tell me
God exists, that he is a power, a principle, or spirit, or light, or
life, or love, or intelligence, or what you will,--if He be not a Father
to whom His children may appeal, if He be not a Providence whom we may
propitiate, and from whom we can obtain special help in the hour of
danger,--I say, practically, it does not matter to us whether He exists
or not."[291] "The great practical question is, whether there exists a
Deity to whom we can appeal, who is the Father of his children, who is
to be propitiated by prayer, and who will render us help in the hour of
danger and distress."

With the spirit of these remarks every believer will cordially
sympathize. He knows that there can be no practical religion without
faith in Providence and confidence in prayer; for "he that cometh to God
must believe that He is, and that He is _the rewarder_ of them that
diligently seek Him." Mr. Holyoake does not err in supposing that this
is the general belief of Christians, or that it is explicitly sanctioned
in Scripture. He may, and we think he does err in his interpretation of
the Bible doctrine, and the inferences which he deduces from it; but
assuredly Christianity would be robbed of its most attractive and
endearing attributes, were it represented as silent on the paternal
character of God and His providential care. He is right in saying that
"the Providence man needs, the Providence the old theologies gave him,
was a personal Providence, an available help.... I care only to add,
that there is hardly any feature in the Christian system which is so
seductive as this doctrine of a special Providence.... Do you not know
that in all your appeals your success depends upon your telling all
orders of people that there is One in heaven who cares for them, that
every prayer will be answered, that every hair of their head is
numbered, that not a sparrow falls to the ground without their heavenly
Father's knowledge, and are not they worth more than many
sparrows?"[292] He sees the necessity, and seems to feel the
attractiveness, of the doctrine; yet he denies its truth: why? because
it is contradicted, as he conceives, by experience. He adduces his own
personal experience, and then appeals to the experience of his
fellow-men: "I once prayed in all the fervency of this same religion. I
believed once all these things. I put up prayers to Heaven which I
cannot conceive how humanity could have refused to respond to,--prayers
such as if put up to me I must have responded to. I saw those near and
dear to me perishing around me; and I learned the secret I care no
longer to conceal, that man's dependence is upon his courage and his
industry, and dependence upon Heaven there seems to be none."[293] Such
was his private experience; and facts of public notoriety are appealed
to in confirmation: "It has long seemed to me the most serious libel on
the character of the Deity to assume for one moment that he interferes
in human exigencies. A mountain of desolating facts rises up to shame
into silence the hazardous supposition? Was not the whole land a short
time ago convulsed with horror at the fate of the _Amazon_? There was
not a wretch in the whole country whose slumbering humanity would not
have been aroused in the presence of that dismal calamity." ... "How is
it that liberty is in chains all over Europe, if God be still
interposing in human affairs? If the older doctrine were true, if our
brother's blood still cried to God from the ground, the patriot would be
released from the dungeon, and the tyrant would descend from the throne
he has polluted."--"Science has shown us that we are under the dominion
of general laws, and that there is no special providence, and that
prayers are useless, and that propitiation is vain; that whether there
be a Deity independent of Nature, or whether Nature be God, it is still
_the God of the iron foot_, that passes on without heeding, without
feeling, and without resting; that Nature acts with a fearful
uniformity, stern as fate, absolute as tyranny, merciless as death; too
vast to praise, too inexplicable to worship, too inexorable to
propitiate, it has no ear for prayer, no heart for sympathy, no arm to
save."[294]

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