It may also be pointed out that, just as it is not true that Atheism attempts to explain the origin of the universe, so it is unfair to tie the Atheist down to any particular theory of cosmic evolution. As a mental att.i.tude Atheism is quite independent of any theory of cosmic working, so long as that theory does not involve an appeal to deity. As we shall see, Atheism, from the point of view both of history and etymology, stands for the negation of theism, and its final justification must be found in the untenability of the theistic position.
Rightly enough it may be argued that the acceptance of Atheism implies a certain general mental att.i.tude towards both cosmic and social questions, but the Atheist, as such, is no more committed to a special scientific theory than he is committed to a special theory of government. Of course, it is convenient for the Theist to first of all saddle his opponent with a set of social or scientific beliefs, and then to a.s.sume that in attacking those beliefs he is demolishing Atheism, but it is none the less fighting on a false issue. All that Atheism necessarily involves is that all forms of Theism are logically untenable, and consequently the only effective method of destroying Atheism is to establish its opposite.
Professor Huxley"s treatment of Atheism proceeds on similar lines to that already dealt with, but is more elaborate in character. Discussing the nature of his own opinions he repudiates all sympathy with Atheism, because:
"the problem of the ultimate cause of existence is one which seems to me to be hopelessly out of reach of my poor powers. Of all the senseless babble I have ever had occasion to read, the demonstrations of those philosophers who undertake to tell us about the nature of G.o.d would be the worst, if they were not surpa.s.sed by the still greater absurdities of the philosophers who try to prove there is no G.o.d." (_On the Hypothesis the Animals are Automata._)
And on another occasion, replying to a correspondent, he expresses the opinion that "Atheism is, on philosophical grounds, untenable, that there is no evidence of the G.o.d of the theologians is true enough, but strictly scientific reasoning can take us no further. When we know nothing we can neither affirm nor deny with propriety." (_Life and Letters_, p. 162.)
Here, again, we have the common error that Atheism seeks in some way to explain the ultimate cause of existence. And this in spite of continuous disclaimers that all search for a "first cause," or for a "cause of existence" is midsummer madness. The fault here, we suspect, is that both writers took their statement of Atheism, not from Atheistic writers but from their opponents. But it is none the less surprising that it was not recognised that both "a first cause" and an "ultimate cause of existence," are, strictly speaking, theistic questions. I do not mean that these questions may not suggest themselves to non-theists, but that when they are raised clearly and definitely they are seen to belong to a cla.s.s of questions to which no rational answer is possible. To the Theist, however, the questions arise from his primary a.s.sumptions. His theory is one of final causes; his deity is postulated as the cause of existence, and he cannot give up the questions as hopeless without admitting his position to be indefensible. It is quite usual for the theist to propound problems which only arise on his own a.s.sumptions, and then call upon his opponents for answers to them, but there is no justification whatever for non-theists playing the same game. Atheism has nothing to do with final causes, and therefore is not concerned with defending its illogicalities. Theism is a doctrine of final causes, and in arguing that it is absurd to express an opinion upon the subject Professor Huxley was adding a good reason in support of the position he believed himself to be destroying.
Huxley"s other objection to Atheism is that it perpetuates the absurdity of trying to prove there is no G.o.d. How far is that true? Or in what sense is it true? The danger in all discussion on this point lies in our taking it for granted that "G.o.d" conveys a definite and identical meaning to all people. But this is very far from being the case. What anyone means by "G.o.d" it is impossible to say until some further description has been given. When this has been done, and not until then, "G.o.d" may become the subject of affirmation or denial. Until then we are playing with empty words. By itself "G.o.d" means nothing. It offers the possibility of neither negation nor affirmation.
Now Professor Huxley would have readily admitted that the truth of a proposition may be denied whenever its terms involve a contradiction.
And the ground of this is the sheer impossibility of bringing the terms together in thought. That a circle may be square, or that parallel lines may enclose a s.p.a.ce, are propositions the truth of which may be denied offhand. The ground of this is that the conception of squareness and circularity, of straight lines and an enclosed s.p.a.ce are mutually destructive, they cancel each other. And so far as Atheism may be said to involve the denial of particular G.o.ds that denial is based upon precisely similar grounds. When defined it is seen that the attributes of this defined G.o.d cancel each other as effectually as squareness rules out the idea of a circle; either this or they are simply unthinkable.
You cannot have an infinite personality any more than you can have a six-sided octagon, nor can you posit an infinite personality without divesting the terms of all meaning.
It may also be noted in pa.s.sing that both the theist and the Agnostic actually do deny the existence of particular G.o.ds without the least hesitation. No rational Agnostic would hesitate to deny the existence of Jupiter, Javeh, Allah, or Brahma. No Christian would hesitate to deny the existence of the G.o.ds of a tribe of savages. Even believers in the current theology have evolved beyond the stage of the primitive Christians, who accepted the existence of the Pagan deities with the proviso that they were demons. And it is a mere verbal quibble to say that these people merely deny each other"s conception of deity. Each man"s conception of G.o.d _is_ his G.o.d, and to say that no being answering to that conception exists is to say that his G.o.d does not exist, and in relation to the G.o.d denied the denier is in exactly the position in which he places the Atheist.
So far then the Atheism of each is just a question of degree or of relation. So far as Atheism involves the denial of deity the follower of one religion is an Atheist in relation to the followers of every other religion. Each religion--among civilised people--is atheistic from the standpoint of the followers of other G.o.ds. The affirmation of one G.o.d involves the denial of other G.o.ds. This would really seem to be the historical significance of the term. The early Christians were called atheists by the Pagans, and some of them accepted it without demur. At a later date Spinoza, Voltaire, Paine, and others were called atheists, and the epithet has lost its force to-day only because the evolution of thought has broken down many religious barriers, and is rapidly dividing people into two groups--those who believe in some G.o.d and who believe in none at all. Now all that Atheism--conscious and reflective Atheism--does is to carry a step further the restricted denial of the ordinary religionist. The Christian theist denies every G.o.d but his own.
The Atheist, seeing no more evidence for the existence of the Christian deity than for the existence of any of the deities discarded by the Christian, seeing, further, that there are exactly the same contradictions involved in a.s.suming the existence of any one of the world"s deities, places the Christian deity on the list as among those G.o.ds in whose existence he does not believe, and whose existence, so far as it is defined, may be logically denied.
The really distinguishing feature of philosophic Atheism is its comprehensiveness, the ranking of all known deities, big and little, ancient and modern, savage and civilised, gross and subtle, upon the same level. Historically, we see them all originating in the same conditions, pa.s.sing through substantially the same phases of development, finally to meet with the same fate as civilisation developes. In this respect Atheism has to be considered in its historic developments. It begins, as we have seen in the rejection of a particular G.o.d, in favour of some other deity. It is only at a very much later stage that the whole idea of G.o.d is subjected to examination and a.n.a.lysis in such a way as to lead to the rejection of the conception of G.o.d as a whole. But with that aspect of the subject we shall be concerned later.
But does Atheism deny the existence of any possible G.o.d? This question might admit of a simple answer if one only knew precisely what it meant.
It is easy enough to understand what is meant by G.o.d so long as we keep to any or all of the G.o.ds of the world"s religions. But what is meant by G.o.d standing alone and undefined? Historically "G.o.d" means a deity believed in by some people, some where, at some time. And if we put on one side these particular G.o.ds we have nothing left that can be either affirmed or denied. G.o.d in the abstract is not a real existence any more than tree in the abstract is a real existence. There is a pine tree, a pear tree, an apple tree, etc., but there is and can be no "tree" apart from some particular tree. So with "G.o.d." There are particular G.o.ds, but if we do away with these, we have no G.o.d left as a separate existence.
"G.o.d" then becomes a mere word conveying no meaning whatever. Atheism does not deny the existence of _a_ G.o.d for the same reason that it does not deny the existence of Abracadabra--both terms mean as much, or as little. And it is more than absurd for people who have rejected theism to continue using the word "G.o.d" as though it had a quite definite meaning apart from the G.o.ds of the various theologies. We have Professor Huxley admitting that "there is no evidence of the existence of the G.o.d of the theologians," and we imagine that he would have met the affirmation of their existence with a flat contradiction. At any rate he would have been quite justified in doing so. But when he a.s.serts, with a show of logical precision, but in reality with great looseness, that "it is preposterous to a.s.sert that there is no G.o.d because he cannot be such as we think him to be," he is using language for which no precise meaning can be found. To be intelligible, the sentence implies that we have some conception answering to the terms used, and this, as we have pointed out with almost wearisome insistence, is not the case. It is not a case of saying to the theist, "I fully understand your hypothesis, but as at present I do not see enough evidence to convince me of its truth or to demonstrate its error I must suspend judgment." We do _not_ understand it. And when we seek to we discover that the terms of the proposition we are asked to accept refuse to be brought together within the compa.s.s of a single conception. Suspended judgment where the subject under discussion is understandable is right and proper, but it is quite out of place, and indeed cannot exist, where the proposition before us is void of meaning. In such circ.u.mstances suspended judgment is absurd, and it may be added that the affirmation or negation of such a proposition is absurd likewise.
Only one other word need be said on this point. It may be urged that educated believers mean by "G.o.d" not the anthropomorphic deity of the theologies, but a personal intelligence controlling things. But this is really not less anthropomorphic than the form in which the G.o.d idea meets us in the popular theologies. Its anthropomorphism is only, to un.o.bservant minds, less apparent. The conception of an intelligent, personal being controlling nature is not fundamentally less objectionable than the frankly man-like being of the early theologies.
Intelligence, as we know it (and to talk of an intelligence that is unlike the intelligence we know is absurd) is as much a characteristic of human, or animal, organisation, as arms and legs are. Mind, after all, is only known to us as a function of an organism. That it is more than this, or other than this, is a pure a.s.sumption. And to divest "G.o.d"
of all physical parts, while retaining his functions, is sheer nonsense.
There is the personal intelligence of Smith, or Brown, or Robinson, but it is absurd to wipe out all the particular Smiths, and Browns, and Robinsons, and then talk as though their qualities continue in existence. So with G.o.d. If we reject all the G.o.ds of the theologies one after another, what G.o.d have we left to talk about? All we have left is the memory of a delusion.
It is equally fallacious to talk of "G.o.d" as an equivalent of force in the abstract, or as the equivalent of some non-intelligent force. This is not what people ever meant, or mean, by G.o.d. What religious folk believe in, what they pray to, is a person who can hear them, and who can do things. A G.o.d only dimly apprehended may be tolerated, but for how long will faith continue to worship an existence that can neither do nor hear nor sympathise? There is a limit to even religious folly. And even a savage only worships "sticks and stones" _after_ he endows them with life and intelligence.
Finally, if there is one thing clear to the modern mind it is that science has no room in its theory of things for an over-ruling intelligence. Sir Oliver Lodge well sums up the att.i.tude of science in the following sentences:--"Orthodox science shows us a self-contained and self-sufficient universe, not in touch with anything above or beyond itself--the general trend and outline of it known--nothing supernatural or miraculous, no intervention of beings other than ourselves, being conceived possible." (_Man and the Universe_, p. 14, Popular ed.) Personally, we question whether there are any scientists of repute who really believe in the existence of a personal intelligence above or beyond nature. Some may make professions to the contrary, but it will usually be found that the qualifications introduced rob their professions of all value. Certainly their teaching is dest.i.tute of any such conception. Modern scientific thought leaves no room for the operations of deity. The miraculous is generally discarded. Response to prayer is whittled down to a species of self-delusion, to be valued on account of its subjective influence only. The scientific theory of things, incomplete as it may be in many of its details, leaves no room for the operations of a G.o.d. Not alone does it leave no room for a G.o.d, but if the scientific conception of the world is to stand, then it would be necessary to repeat Bakunine"s _mot_, and to say, "If there were a G.o.d it would be necessary to destroy him." You simply cannot have at one and the same time a universe in which all that occurs is the consequence of calculable and indestructible forces, the operations of which can be foreseen and relied upon, and a universe controlled by a self-determining deity, capable of modifying the action of these same forces. You may have one or the other, but it is sheer lunacy to imagine that you can have both. Either uniformity with invariable causation, or a world in which every scientific calculation must be prefaced with the "D.V." of a prayer meeting. And the Atheist, who accepts the principles of modern science, says, not merely that he is without a belief in G.o.d, but that he fails to see any necessity for his existence, or anything for him to do if he did exist. He pa.s.ses the G.o.ds of the world in review and categorically dismisses each one as a myth. In doing this he has the concurrence of all theists in discarding every G.o.d save one--his own.
The Atheist simply applies the same rule to each, and metes out the same judgment to all.
CHAPTER XII.
SPENCER AND THE UNKNOWABLE.
We have already referred to the use made by religionists of Spencer"s "Unknowable." This theory was not without its forerunners, and in England was already in the field in the teachings of Hamilton and Mansel. Spencer gave it a still greater vogue. As he presented it, it came before the world with all the prestige attaching to its a.s.sociation with one of the most comprehensive of modern thinkers, and one of the most influential in the schools of evolutionary philosophy. It was also connected with a world theory that claimed to be strictly scientific in its character. It became not only a fashion in certain circles, it founded a school, and gained numerous followers in the religious world.
Its author propounded it as a basis on which to reconcile religion and science, and many were ready to accept it as such. Printed in all the glory of capital letters, appearing sometimes as "The Ultimate Reality,"
sometimes as the "Unconditioned," sometimes as an "Infinite and Eternal Energy," it was equally impressive under all its forms. It provided just that solemn kind of formula that the religious mind is accustomed to hear, and if it was as meaningless as the Athanasian Creed, is was, for that reason, quite as satisfying. It gave all the comfort of a religious confession of faith, and it has been the parent of a whole host of more recent apologies for G.o.d.
In itself the "Unknowable" was harmless enough. Its philosophic value is not great, its scientific utility is nil. To say that everything proceeds from an "Ultimate Reality" is not very helpful, and to follow on with the declaration that we know nothing about it, and that it would be of no use to us if we did, does not sound very encouraging. It reminds one of the description of the horse that had only two faults--one that it was hard to catch, and the other that it was no good when it was caught. We repeat with all solemnity the formula that all things proceed from an infinite and eternal energy, and that this is the Ultimate Reality, and then find that in relation to any and every question we are precisely where we were. Its acceptance in certain religious circles, and its use later, may be taken as evidence of the fact that what the pious mind longs for is not sense but satisfaction.
Still there remains cause for wonder that this "Unknowable" should ever have been taken as affording foundation for the belief in deity. The most extreme materialist or Atheist need not be in the slightest degree disconcerted on being told things proceed from an "Infinite and Eternal Energy." It is only what the Atheist has said, minus the capital letters. He has affirmed his conviction, that all phenomena result from the permutations of matter and force, which are eternal because no time limit can be placed to their operations. And you do not add anything material to the statement by printing it in capital letters. That the Spencerian abstraction should have been taken as a subst.i.tute for deity proves how desperate the situation is. Drowning men clutch at straws, and a disintegrating deity hopes to renew his strength by the lavish use of capital letters.
For, after all, what the theist needs is, not an eternal energy, but a personality. An inscrutable existence will not do. There is no dispute that something exists. There is no quarrel over mere existence. It is with the nature of what exists and the mode of its operation that the issue arises. The theist needs a special kind of energy, a special form of existence, a special kind of "reality" if his case is to be established. It will not do for Mr. Spencer to a.s.sure him that this "Ultimate Reality" is higher than personal. How Mr. Spencer knows that something, the nature of which is unknown, is higher than something else, is more than one can tell. But that does not matter. Higher or lower, it is all the same. Either way it is different from personal, and if it is different it is not the same, it is not personal. Whatever other qualities this "Ultimate Reality" has or lacks, it must have that one if it is to be of use to the theist. And to say that it is higher than personal is to say that it is not personal at all, and to repeat in a roundabout manner what the Atheist has been saying all the time.
What now is Spencer"s theory of an ultimate reality that must for ever remain unknowable? Following a line of thought that had been steadily gaining ground since Hume--although much older than Hume--Spencer holds that in final a.n.a.lysis all our knowledge is a knowledge of mental states and their relations. Beyond this we _know_ nothing, and can never know anything. Nevertheless, while we cannot know anything beyond consciousness, the conditions of thinking oblige us to a.s.sume that something exists as the cause of our states of mind. Just as black implies something that is not black, hard something that is not hard, so we must conceive, as against the conditioned, relative existence of our conscious states, an unconditioned, absolute existence as their cause.
It is this a.s.sumed, but completely unknown cause of our conscious states, and of all else, that Spencer distinguishes as the Unknowable, the Unconditioned, the Absolute, etc., and which appears to have brought so much consolation to hard-pressed theists.
I have no intention of discussing here the philosophic value of the "Unknowable." But one may say, in pa.s.sing, that even from that point of view Spencer is untrue to his own Agnosticism in speaking of the Unconditioned as the _cause_ of phenomena. For causation is a category of the conditioned, it belongs to the world we know. It is not something that exists beyond consciousness, it is something that is supplied by consciousness and which possesses validity only within the world of phenomena. On Spencer"s own theory of relativity a cause only exists in relation to an effect. Destroy the one and you destroy the other. Thus, if the Unknowable is a cause of phenomena it ceases to be the unconditioned and becomes part of the phenomenal order. If, on the other hand, it is not part of the phenomenal sequence, it cannot stand to phenomena in a genuine casual relation. It is, however, only fair to point out that between the Unknowable and the evolutionary philosophy of Spencer the only connection between them is that they are both in the same work. In all probability it is an unconscious survival of Spencer"s earlier theism, which was active at the time the Synthetic Philosophy was originally planned, but which became more and more attenuated as Spencer grew older, and disappears entirely from the more important volumes of the series. And but for the help it has been supposed to give the belief in G.o.d, the "Unknowable" would only have ranked as a harmless speculation of no value to anyone or to anything.
This is substantially admitted in a postscript to the 1899 edition of "First Principles." At the conclusion of the section ent.i.tled "The Unknowable," he says:--
The reader is not called on to judge respecting any of the arguments or conclusions contained in the foregoing five chapters and in the above paragraphs. The subjects on which we are about to enter are independent of the subjects thus far discussed; and he may reject any or all of that which has gone before while leaving himself free to accept any or all of that which is now to come.
In other words, the "Unknowable" is a pure abstraction, having no organic connection with the Synthetic Philosophy, or indeed with any philosophy of value. Mr. Spencer"s warning to his readers seems to quite justify Mr. Bradley"s rather caustic comment, "I do not wish to be irreverent, but Mr. Spencer"s att.i.tude towards his Unknowable strikes me as a pleasantry, the point of which lies in its unconsciousness. It seems a proposal to take something for G.o.d simply and solely because we do not know what the devil it can be." (Note to p. 128 of _Appearance and Reality_.)
The curious thing is that Mr. Spencer really offers his readers two theories of the nature of religion. One is contained in his "Principles of Sociology," and so far as it traces all religious ideas to the delusions and illusions of the primitive savage is substantially that held by all modern anthropologists. The other is contained in his "First Principles," and the two theories, like parallel lines, never meet.
Though born in the same brain they are quite distinct, and even contradictory.
The substance of this second theory may be summarised as follows:--
1. The conditions of human thought compel the recognition of an unknowable reality of which all phenomena are the expression.
2. The function of religion, from the earliest time, has been the a.s.sertion of the existence of an unknowable reality, and to keep alive a consciousness of the insoluble mystery surrounding it.
3. The function of science is to deal with the known and the knowable, with all that is presented in experience, with the world of phenomena exclusively.
4. Religion having for its subject matter the unknown and unknowable, while science has for its subject matter the known and the knowable, religion and science are not antagonistic, but complementary. Conflicts only arise when one trespa.s.ses on the other"s department, and a recognition of the true line of demarcation effectually reconciles these hitherto hostile forces.
A very obvious criticism of number one is in affirming a consciousness of an "Unknowable," its quality of unknowableness is annihilated.
Existence can only be predicated of that which affects consciousness in some manner; and so far as I have the slightest apprehension or consciousness of anything existing, to that extent it ceases to be the unknowable. Our knowledge of it may be imperfect or altogether erroneous; we may feel it impossible that we should ever rightly understand it; but so far as we think about it we are bound to a.s.similate it to the best of our knowledge, even though it be only under the category of force. In brief, "unknowableness" is not a property or quality by which a thing may be apprehended; it is a name for complete mental vacuity. It does not refer to the thing itself, it refers only to us. It is a pure negation which Spencer, by sheer verbal play converts into a quasi-positive conception. A consciousness of things unknown can never be more than a consciousness of ignorance. There is only one way to prove the existence of an unknowable, and that is to know nothing about it--not even to know that there is something about which we know nothing.
But, says Spencer, "to say that we cannot know the absolute is, by implication, to affirm that there is an absolute." Certainly, if we take an infirmity of language to be the equivalent of a necessity of existence, not otherwise. When I say that we cannot know a four-sided triangle I do not affirm by implication that a four-sided triangle exists. I am a.s.serting that the phrase, a four-sided triangle, involves conceptions that cannot be brought together in consciousness, and so dismiss it as being without meaning.
The truth is that every one of Spencer"s attempts to prove the existence of an unknowable turns out on examination to be no more than a proof of the existence of an unknown, and this is not disputed at any time or by anyone. Thus, after being told that a known cannot be thought of apart from an unknown, we are informed:--
Positive knowledge does not, and never can, fill the whole region of possible thought. At the utmost reach of discovery there arises, and must ever arise, the question, What lies beyond? As it is impossible to think of a limit to s.p.a.ce so as to exclude the idea of s.p.a.ce lying outside that limit, so we cannot conceive of any explanation profound enough to exclude the question, What is the explanation of the explanation?
With this we can all agree, but it does not bring us any nearer an "unknowable." It is perfectly true that thought can never be comprehensive enough to exhaust the possibilities of existence, since it is of the essence of thinking to limit and define. But it is a sheer impossibility to think of what lies beyond the boundary of our knowledge as unknowable, so far as we think of it at all, we must conceive it as the unknown but possibly knowable. The unknown can only be thought of thus because it is only as it is, by a.s.sumption, brought into line with what is already known that it can be thought about at all. We are compelled to think of what lies beyond the limits of our actual knowledge in the same way as a traveller thinks of the fauna and flora of an untravelled country. The new region may present many new features, but until actual observation has taken place, these new features will only be thought of as more or less unusual combinations of known animal and vegetable life. They are substantially identical with what is already known.
No stranger notion ever occurred to a great thinker than that religion and science represent parallel and distinct lines of development, each having its own sphere of operation. It is all the more remarkable when we remember that with Spencer "religion" means all religion, past and present, civilised and savage. And no one is more precise in pointing out how all religious ideas find their beginnings in the conditions of primitive life. And that being the case, one wonders whether we are to picture primitive man as a profound metaphysical philosopher, speculating on that which lies behind phenomena, contemplating an "insoluble Mystery," and paying homage to an "Ultimate Reality"? Nothing could be more absurd. Thinking begins in concrete images, not in abstractions. We have only to note the development of intelligence in children to realise this. And primitive man, not being a mystic nor a metaphysician, bases his religion, not upon a reality that transcends experience, but upon a presumed fact, and what is to him the best known of all facts. And even with modern men it may safely be said that they worship G.o.d for what they believe they know about him, not because they believe him to be unknown and unknowable.