Michael Ruse

There is a strong need of a reasoned defense of what was known as the “independence” position of the science–religion relationship but that more recently has been denigrated as the “accommodationist” position, namely that while there are parts of religion—fundamentalist Christianity in particular—that clash with modern science, the essential parts of religion do not and could not clash with science. A case for this position is made on the grounds of the essentially metaphorical nature of science. Modern science functions because of its root metaphor of the machine: the world is seen in mechanical terms. As Thomas Kuhn insisted, metaphors function in part by ruling some questions outside their domain. In the case of modern science, four questions go unasked and hence unanswered: Why is there something rather than nothing? What is the foundation of morality? What is mind and its relationship to matter? What is the meaning of it all? You can remain a nonreligious skeptic on these questions, but it is open for the Christian to offer his or her answers, so long as they are not scientific answers. Here then is a way that science and religion can coexist

Are science and religion necessarily in conflict? This essay, by stressing the importance of metaphor in scientific understanding, argues that this is not so. There are certain important questions about existence, ethics, sentience and ultimate meaning and purpose that not only does science not answer but that science does not even attempt to answer. One does not necessarily have to turn to religion—one could remain agnostic or skeptical—but nothing in science precludes religion from offering answers. One may criticize the answers of religion, but so long as religion is not attempting surreptitiously to offer scientific answers, the criticisms must be theological or philosophical or of like nature, and cannot simply be purely scientific.

This is a book about laws. Not, however, about the laws of which we learned in science classes at school: “scientific laws”. It is rather about those universalities which govern the world of facts, what Swartz calls “physical laws”—although this language is slightly misleading because the term is intended to cover the living as well as the non-living world. Of course, it may well be that a scientific law does capture the essence of a physical law, but not necessarily or usually. A physical law by definition can never be false, whereas almost paradoxically nearly all scientific laws are false.

In this paper I consider the problem of man's evolution - in particular the evolutionary problems raised when we consider man as a cultural animal as well as a biological one. I argue that any adequate cultural evolutionary theory must have the notion of ‘adaptation’ as a central concept, where this must be construed in a fairly literal (biological) sense, that is as something which aids its possessors (i.e. men) to survive and reproduce. I argue against theories which treat adaptation in a metaphorical sense, particularly those speaking of the ‘adaptation’ of cultures without reference to men. Iron tools per se are not better adapted than bronze tools - it is the men with iron tools who are better adapted than men with bronze tools. I show that by taking the approach that I do, one can apply at once in a fruitful manner some conclusions of biological evolutionary theory directly to men and their cultures. I conclude with a brief discussion of methodological issues raised by cultural evolutionary theories, particularly those of confirmation and falsification.

The seventeenth–century chemist and philosopher Robert Boyle argued that the world is like a clockwork machine. This led to the problems of the place of a Creator and of how one can explain the directed, “final–cause” nature of organisms. Boyle thought that he could wrap everything up in one neat package, with a clear place for a designing God, but of course the coming of Darwinism casts doubt on this. Nevertheless, Boyle's thinking does have some very interesting implications for the way in which we today should consider the science/religion relationship

In recent years, philosophers have come to realize that the relationship between science and values raises questions which are both important and not readily answered. It is true that the major figures in that tradition known as ‘logical empiricism’ appreciated that science always exceeds its empirical grasp and that it is necessary for scientists to be guided and constrained by so-called ‘epistemic values,’ these being values (in the words of one supporter) ‘presumed to promote the truth-like character of science, its character as the most secure knowledge available to us of the world we seek to understand.’ However, these values — such things as internal and external consistency, simplicity, predictive accuracy and fertility, unificatory power (consilience) — were considered special. Inasmuch as they could not be reduced to basic principles of logic — and there were attempts to do this — they were still thought of, in some sense, as beyond the vagaries of human emotion. Their importance was not a function of the individual’s personal inclinations, nor of those of the group, whether this group be understood as a closely knit band of researchers or even up to a complete society.

A brief historical overview shows the main Christian claims aboutmorality and proper conduct, looking at questions about both prescriptions and foundations . Jesus did not leave a fully articulated ethical system, and hence it fell to his followers to tease out such a system from hism sayings and actions. Particularly important for Catholic thinking has been the natural law theory of St. Thomas Aquinas. Particularly important for Protestant thinking have been the directives of the Gospel stories, although different branches of Protestantism emphasize different parts of Christ's teachings. Foundationally important for all Christians is God's will or desire, and it is necessary to show that this does not commit the believer to potentially capricious divine directives

The section on the Argument from Design in collections of readings in the philosophy of religion usually begins with an expository selection drawn from Archdeacon William Paley’s Natural Theology, and follows with a critical selection drawn from David Hume’s Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion. Only from the footnotes does the student learn that Hume’s Dialogues was published over twenty years before Paley’s Natural Theology. Probably the student will feel that Hume’s devastating critique of the Argument must strike every reasonable person with equal force, and so he will conclude that Paley must have been an archetypal intellectual conservative—a man whose ideas were dead and fossilized long before he put pen to paper. In fact, historically, the very opposite was the case. Although few could deny Hume’s towering intellect—“God’s greatest gift to the infidel” one fellow Scot grudgingly called him—Hume failed entirely to break the hold that the Argument from Design had on people’s imaginations. As many of us feel about Descartes’s arguments from illusion, people “knew” that somehow there must be a flaw in Hume’s argumentation, for, in the words of the anatomist Richard Owen, organic characters like the hand, the foot, and the eye, bear “irrefragable evidence of creative foresight.” Far from being outdated before it appeared, Paley’s book, in which he drew lucidly upon the most recent findings in natural science, rapidly became the standard work on the Argument from Design. It was, for instance, considered essential reading in any young man’s university education.