A Religious Physics and Cosmology for the 21st Century?

Paul Davies is a physicist and writer of popular books on science. To use Davies’s own words about the theoretical physicist John Archibald Wheeler, he is “not afraid to tackle deep philosophical questions”. He’s also not (to use Davies’s words again) “conventionally religious” or “traditionally religious”… However, this essay argues that the relevant positions Davies takes on physics and cosmology are, indeed, unconventionally religious.

(i) Introduction

(ii) Paul Davies Against Other Scientists

(iii) Paul Davies’s Rhetoric and Ideology

(iv) Is Paul Davies Religious?

(v) Paul Davies’s Teleology for the 21st Century

(vi) The Life Principle

“Brandon Carter has frequently regretted his own choice of the word ‘anthropic’, because it conveys the misleading impression that the principle involves humans specifically, rather than intelligent observers in general.”

(See source of this passage here.)

Paul Davies sees himself as being in the mould of the American theoretical physicist John Archibald Wheeler (1911 — 2008).

Firstly, Davies tells us that John Wheeler was

“not afraid to tackle deep philosophical questions”.

In addition, he was

“not conventionally religious, but inspired by a reverence for nature and a deep sense that human beings are part of a grand scheme which we glimpse only incompletely”.

Finally, Davies tells us that Wheeler was

“bold enough to follow the laws of physics wherever they lead”.

It’s surely not unfair to say that Davies is also talking about himself here.

It’s not unfair to say that because Davies “is not afraid to tackle deep philosophical questions”. He’s not “conventionally religious”, but he still has a “deep sense that human beings are part of a grand scheme”. Finally, Davies believes that he is “bold enough to follow the laws of physics wherever they lead”.

In more detail.

Davies raises all sorts of philosophical questions which he deems to be very deep. He also often says that he’s not “traditionally religious” or “conventionally religious”. This basically means that Davies is still religious — just not traditionally or conventionally so. And, in terms of physics alone, Davies is bold enough to argue that the laws of physics may not be “immutable” after all.

This last idea is something which Davies took directly from John Wheeler.

Davies himself told the following story:

“I once asked Wheeler what he considered his most important achievement, and he answered ‘Mutability!’”

What’s more, neither would it be unfair to say that in the following passage Davies is talking about himself again. Thus:

“Throughout history, prominent thinkers have been convinced that the everyday world observed through our senses represents only the surface manifestations of a deeper hidden reality, where the answers to the great questions of existence should be sought.”

More tellingly, Davies continued:

“The word ‘occult’ originally meant ‘knowledge of the concealed truth’ [].”

These charges are levelled against Davies because he often talks in terms of deep questions, and the — or his! — deep answers “to the great questions of existence”.

Paul Davies Against Other Scientists

Paul Davies sometimes has a problem with people picking up on what they take to be his religious views. However, this often depends on Davies’s questioner and/or his audience at the time.

For example, Davies wrote:

“Many scientists will criticise my E/F inclination as being crypto-religious”.

[E = “a life principle”. F = “the self-explaining universe”.]

Of course, Davies also tells us why many scientists deem his inclinations to be crypto-religious.

For example, the following is what such scientists (supposedly) don’t like about Davies’s position:

“The fact that I take the human mind and our extraordinary ability to understand the world through science and mathematics as a fact of fundamental significance [].”

Davies adds that such scientists believe that this position

“betrays [] a nostalgia for a theistic world view in which humankind occupies a special place”.

This shows that Davies has as much of a problem with other scientists’ views as some scientists have with his own… as we shall see.

So now let’s get something straight out of the way:

I too deem many of Davies’s positions to be… well, crypto-religious.

Actually, I wouldn’t even use the prefix “crypto”. And that’s because Davies’s religious positions don’t seem to be hidden.

For example, Davies himself says that

“if I am honest I have to concede that this starting point is something I feel more in my heart than in my head”.

He finishes off with these words:

“So maybe that is a religious conviction of sorts.”

And, elsewhere, Davies talks in terms of his “cosmic religious feeling”.

[See Paul Davies’s book God and the New Physics, which was published way back in 1983. Davies’s views can also be tied to theosophy. Particularly, theosophy has it that the evolution of Homo sapiens is an expression of the wider evolution of the Universe. See here. See ‘Paul Davies: What I believe about God’.]

Paul Davies’s Rhetoric and Ideology

Paul Davies indulges in a fair bit of psychological — and even political — theorising about those scientists who oppose his views (as well as those who oppose views very similar to his own). However, he doesn’t seem to like it when people do the same thing to both himself and his own views.

For example, Davies says that his views — and views he’s sympathetic to — are met with a “hostility” which “does carry the hallmarks of an extra-scientific agenda”. He also states that the criticisms of his ideas “carry barely concealed overtones of an ideological agenda”. …

Surely Davies must be able to guess the responses to such accusations. Here’s one:

Paul Davies, along with those people who take similar positions to himself, often show hostility to what they call “atheism”, “materialism”, “reductionism” and “scientism”. And their hostility shows all the hallmarks of an extra-scientific, ideological and/or religious agenda.

So perhaps readers should (or at least they could) simply ignore all the psychologising and politicking on both sides. That said, this rising-above-the-intemperance would surely be an artificial (or contrived) stance. And that’s primarily because everyone interested in this debate would still be well aware of the various elephants in the room.

All that said, is Davies actually religious?

Is Paul Davies Religious?

Superficially, Paul Davies’s acknowledgment that Homo sapiens are no more than a (mere?) “accidental by-product of haphazard natural processes” (this expression seems to have become a cliché — see here) is certainly not a position that’s easily squared with Christianity (though many Christians have accepted evolution) or with any other specific monotheistic religion…

However, no one I know has ever accused Davies of being a closet Christian or even a closet monotheist… at least not one of a (to use Davies’s own word) “traditional” kind.

In any case, in one breath Davies stated that Homo sapiens are a “accidental by-product of haphazard natural processes”. Yet, in the next breath, he talks poetically about “life and mind” being “etched deeply into the fabric of the cosmos” (i.e., through what he takes to be “a life principle”).

All this seems like neat and tidy shift from what Davies calls “traditional religion” into a… non-traditional religion.

Indeed, it seems like Davies has almost created his own physics-clad religion…

A new religion that, Davies must believe, just happens to be in tune with certain strands in late 20th century and early 21st century physics and cosmology.

Of course, this kind of thing has happened countless times throughout the long history of the many religions of the world. What’s more, it’s a truism to say that religion must keep on reinventing itself. Indeed, even so-called “fundamentalist” religions have carried out— historically — much reinvention, and they still do so today (as have traditional religions).

[Think here of the Church of England attempting to make its values and beliefs perfectly mimic the political and social fashions of 2023 — or at least those of the early 21st century — see here. Of course, representatives of the C of E will strongly deny this and attempt to tie the political peculiarities and specificities of 2023 to specific theological and religious texts written well over a 1000 years ago. Perhaps religions must do this kind of thing simply in order to survive.]

Paul Davies’s Teleology for the 21st Century

Paul Davies’s central teleological position (along with his adherence to the Life Principle) can be deemed to be anthropocentric. Ironically, Davies himself uses the term “homocentrism” to refer — in a negative manner — to this fundamental position of what he calls “traditional religion”.

So Davies tries very hard to extricate himself from homocentrism.

Davies also uses the word “teleology”. He tells us that teleology

“represents a decisive break with traditional scientific thinking, in which goal-oriented or directional evolution is eschewed as anti-scientific”.

Davies has his own take on teleology. That is, it isn’t a traditional teleology. It’s a teleology that’s been updated with added strands from late 20th century and early 21st century physics and cosmology.

Davies put his own teleological position in the following way:

“In this theory, the bio-friendliness of the universe arises from an overarching law or principle that constrains the universe/multiverse to evolve towards life and mind. It has the advantage of ‘taking life seriously’, treating it neither as a completely unexplained bonus [] nor as a mere passive selector [].”

He continued:

“In short, it builds purpose into the workings of the cosmos at a fundamental (rather than an incidental) level, without positing an unexplained pre-existing purposive agent to inject purpose miraculously.”

Davies began the first passage above with the three words “in this theory”. These words are used in a third-person-kinda-way. However, it’s clear from Davies’s writings that this theory is, in fact, his theory.

As just stated, Davies frequently attempts to distance himself from traditional religion. And, concomitantly, he distances himself from homocentrism. Yet what are we to make of Davies’s claim that his theory advances the idea of an

“overarching law or principle that constrains the universe/multiverse to evolve towards life and mind”.

In addition, we have Davies’s claim that his theory

“builds purpose into the workings of the cosmos at a fundamental (rather than an incidental) level”.

How can talk of “life and mind” — and, less strongly, “purpose” — be anything other than homocentric?

Now surely this isn’t simply a merely anthropic theory — it’s outrightly anthropocentric.

Importantly, Davies — or anyone else — being homocentric isn’t the criticism here. The point is that Davies strongly denies that his overall position is homocentric.

That last claim is stated largely because Davies ties “understanding” and “comprehension” to his theory. This means that he can’t be talking about all lives and even all minds. Instead, he must actually be talking about the lives and minds of Homo sapiens. Indeed, it can be argued that Davies is actually talking about (or privileging) a tiny subset of Homo sapiens: particular physicists (such as himself), cosmologists and, perhaps, mathematicians.

Thus, Davies has selected a tiny group of Knowers or Understanders as the basis of a theory which he claims isn’t traditionally religious. Yet these Knowers or Understanders must surely constitute something very much like a traditional priest class.

Again, how can Davies’s position not be homocentric (or anthropocentric) when he comes out with passages such as the following? -

“Somehow the universe has engineered, not just its own awareness, but its own comprehension. Mindless, blundering atoms have conspired to make, not just life, not just mind, but understanding. The evolving cosmos has spawned beings who are able not merely to watch the show, but to unravel the plot. What is it that enables something as small and delicate and adapted to terrestrial life as the human brain to engage with the totality of the cosmos and the silent mathematical tune to which it dances?”

Apart from the fact that this passage comes across like a religious homily (or even a religious incantation), how can all those claims not be homocentric?

Davies even uses the words “beings” and “the human brain”.

Yes; in Davies’s story, it is beings who “unravel the plot”. Indeed, it’s not even all beings who unravel the plot. It’s a tiny subset of beings who do so— i.e., particular physicists (such as himself), cosmologists and, perhaps, mathematicians. In other words, Davies must surely be referring to a tiny group of Knowers or Understanders — those people he seems to set up as a priest class.

So why use the strong term “priest class”?

Firstly, most human minds do not (or even cannot) “understand the world through science and mathematics”.

All this must mean that Davies replicates the position adopted by fellow physicist Roger Penrose on the importance of “seeing” (what can be called) Gödel truths. (See my ‘Platonist Roger Penrose Sees Mathematical Truths’ at Cantor’s Paradise.)

Yet 99.9% of people wouldn’t recognise a Gödel truth even if it were pushed in their faces. Thus, the specialness of what Penrose calls (human!) “understanding”, and what Davies also calls “comprehension”, must be something that all human beings could only achieve (as it’s often put) in principle. That understanding (or comprehension), then, must only be latent in the majority of human minds or brains.

But is it?

In addition, what does this reliance on a human potentiality (but 99.9% non-actuality) amount to?

Are both Davies and Penrose conflating all Homo sapiens with… themselves?

Or, at the least, are they conflating all Homo sapiens with a tiny subset of them: particular physicists (such as themselves), cosmologists and (in Penrose’s case) mathematicians?

Davies also makes much of what he calls “a life principle”.

The Life Principle

Paul Davies (almost?) comes clean about his commitment to the Life Principle. However, he doesn’t use the definite article (i.e., “the”) or my own Platonic capitals. Instead, he uses the words “a life principle”.

And, in tandem with the Life Principle, Davies also comes clean about his commitment to what he calls “directional principles” and/or “teleology”.

What’s more, Davies certainly has faith in the Life Principle, at least according to Brian Miller. (See my ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Faith in His Idea That Science is Founded on Faith’.) Miller wrote:

“[Paul Davies] also honestly stated that the reason he still had faith that such a principle or process must exist is his unwillingness to consider the possibility of a supreme intelligent agent, as assumed by most world religions, who acts in the world.”

This is Miller’s reaction to a YouTube video (‘Paul Davies & Jeremy England • The Origins of Life: Do we need a new theory for how life began?’) in which Davies does say that he has faith in the Life Principle. (Davies also says: “I would like to believe in a [life principle]…”)

Of course, Davies does offer his readers criticisms of his own position/s.

For example, he wrote:

“A life principle also suffers from the problem of singling out life and mind as the ‘aim’ of cosmic evolution, without explaining why. One could just as well nominate any distinctive and complex state of matter and enshrine its emergence in a teleological principle.”

However:

“This objection is readily removed if one combines a teleological principle with the multiverse, because only universes with life principles built into their laws get a chance to be observed.”

That said, Davies then voices problems with that too!…

And, as a scientist, so he should.

All this is a roundabout way of saying that many of the scientists who endorse a particular theory will be well aware of many of the criticisms of that theory. Thus, in various contexts, such scientists — just like Davies — will articulate those criticisms (i.e., in their papers, books, etc.) without also endorsing (or agreeing with) them.

So Davies knows that scientists should be aware of counterarguments and any opposing data.

In any case, after raising the arguments above against the Life Principle, Davies informs his readers about a way out. Thus:

“One way to avoid this trap is to appeal to a closed explanatory or causal loop. In effect, the universe (or multiverse — it can work at both levels) explains itself.”

And, elsewhere, Davies writes:

“Or, perhaps better still, perhaps existence isn’t something that gets bestowed from outside, by having ‘fire beathed’ into potentiality by some unexplained fire-breathing agency [] but is something self-activating. I have suggested that only self-consistent loops capable of understanding themselves can create themselves, so that only universes with (at least the potential for) life and mind really exist.”

All of Davies’s positions above — to repeat — will have been articulated despite his awareness of the arguments and data against them.

To sum up. Most readers of Paul Davies’s books will be left in no doubt at all as to exactly where he stands — from a religious point of view. And such readers will also be aware of what Davies borrows from late 20th century and early 21st century physics and cosmology in order to back up his religious positions.

****************************

(*) Most of the passages from Paul Davies — in the essay above — can be found in his book The Goldilocks Enigma: Why is the Universe Just Right for Life?, which also goes by the name Cosmic Jackpot.)

(**) See my related essays ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Deep — or Specious! — Questions About Life, the Universe and Everything’, ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Faith in His Idea That Science is “Founded on Faith”’, and ‘Isaac Newton’s Religious Physics?’.

(***) My flickr account and Twitter account.

Physicist Steven Weinberg on Why Reductionism Isn’t a Bogeyman

Physicist Steven Weinberg was a rare example of a scientist who actually discussed reductionism in philosophical terms. That’s fairly strange because this is a contentious issue which is usually only discussed by philosophers and (relevantly enough) the critics of science. Weinberg’s central point was that physics — and perhaps much of science generally — has always been (at least in broad outline) reductionist. What’s more, many of those who criticise reductionism are actually criticising science itself. However, they artfully mask over that fact by overusing the word “reductionism” (as well as the words “materialism” and “scientism”).

(i) Introduction

(ii) Steven Weinberg Defends Reductionism

(iii) In Praise of Reductionism

(iv) Grand and Petty Reductionism

(v) Einstein and Grand Reductionism

(vi) Weinberg’s (Mild?) Reductionism About Chemistry

(vii) The Complete Autonomy of All the Sciences?

(viii) The Autonomy of the Special Sciences?

In a YouTube video called ‘What is Reductionism?’, the theoretical physicist and science communicator Sabine Hossenfelder describes reductionism in the following way:

“Reductionism is, loosely speaking, the idea that you can understand things by taking them apart into smaller things.”

Hossenfelder adds: “This definition of ‘reductionism’ is not quite correct, but it’s not too far off.” (This is a hint at Steven Weinberg’s “petty reductionism”, as we shall see later).

Relevantly, Hossenfelder then tells us “how enormously important reductionism is for scientific understanding”.

Hossenfelder also plays down the role of philosophy when it comes to reductionism. Firstly, she tells us that a

“lot of people seem to think that reductionism is a philosophy, but it most definitely is not that”.

Instead, reduction is a “hypothesis about the properties of nature”. What’s more:

“It is the hypothesis that has so far been supported by every single experiment that has ever been done. I cannot think of any scientific fact that is better established than that the properties of the constituents of a system determine how the system works.”

[Is a kid a reductionist when he decides to take apart his trainset — into its constituent parts — in order to find out what’s wrong with it?]

Despite Hossenfelder’s downplaying of philosophy, it’s worth noting the fact that the theoretical physicist Steven Weinberg (1933–2021) himself is a rare example of a scientist who actually discussed reductionism in philosophical terms. Indeed, he freely admitted that this is primarily a philosophical issue — unlike Hossenfelder.

To repeat. For a physicist, Weinberg wrote a fair amount on the subject of reductionism. And that’s fairly strange because this is a subject that’s usually only discussed by philosophers and the critics of science, not by scientists themselves.

[Sabine Hossenfelder is very critical of philosophy. Or, at the very least, she tells us that she’s “not interested” in it (see here). That said, I believe that she’s toned down her view on this subject in the last couple of years. I suspect that this is largely due to the strong comebacks she’s received from both philosophers and scientists on the issue of philosophy and its relation to science.]

Steven Weinberg Defends Reductionism

Steven Weinberg was a self-described “reductionist”. Or, at the very least, he was a self-described “compromising reductionist”. In Weinberg’s own words:

“I don’t consider myself an uncompromising reductionist. I consider myself a compromising reductionist.”

Whatever kind of reductionist Weinberg was, many people have a serious problem with all types of (what they call) reductionism.

So all this depends on how Weinberg compromised and who he was compromising with.

Whatever the case is, self-styled “anti-reductionists” will argue that Weinberg’s following line contradicts his compromise:

“I would like to try to formulate in what way elementary particles physics is more fundamental than other areas of physics.”

However.

Saying that “particles physics is more fundamental than other areas of physics” isn’t automatically (or necessarily) a commitment to uncompromising reductionism — or, indeed, a commitment to any kind of reductionism. In theory, then, one can believe that particle physics is indeed fundamental, at the very same time as also being against reducing other sciences down to it. That is, particle physics may well be deemed to be fundamental, and yet the scientist who believes this may still (as it were) allow the other sciences their own (complete?) “autonomy” (see later section).

In Praise of Reductionism

Steven Weinberg’s central point (like Sabine Hossenfelder’s) is that nearly all physics — and perhaps much of science generally — has always been reductionist. Indeed, reductionism has been at the heart of physics since Isaac Newton — and even well before that. (Read the extract from Weinberg’s The New York Review article in the opening image.)

What’s more, many (i.e., not all) of those who criticise (what they call) reductionism are often actually criticising science itself. However, they often artfully mask over that fact by overusing the word “reductionism” (as well as the words “scientism” and “materialism”). Indeed, if Weinberg is correct and reductionism is at the heart of physics, then criticising reductionism is almost the same as criticising science — or at least the same as criticising most of physics. (Biology often gets a lot a flack for its reductionism too — see here.)

Added to all that is Weinberg’s idea that even when it comes to complexity, emergence and the autonomy of the other sciences (i.e., outside physics), the laws of physics and its equations still (to use a non-technical term) underpin such complexity, emergence and many of the other sciences.

In terms of detail, Weinberg makes a distinction between two different scientific strategies: “grand reductionism” and “petty reductionism”.

Grand and Petty Reductionism

Firstly, Steven Weinberg defines grand reductionism thus:

“Grand reductionism is what I have been talking about so far — the view that all of nature is the way it is (with certain qualifications about initial conditions and historical accidents) because of simple universal laws, to which all other laws may in some sense be reduced.”

As for “petty reductionism”:

“Petty reductionism is the much less interesting doctrine that things behave the way they do because of the properties of their constituents: for instance, a diamond is hard because of the carbon atoms of which it is composed can fit together neatly.”

Weinberg then sums of the distinction by adding that

“[g]rand and petty reductionism are often confused because much of the reductive progress in science has been in answering questions about what things are made of, but the one is very different from the other”.

Yet even Weinberg’s petty reductionism contains a large and obvious element of truth to it. That is, objects (or Weinberg’s “things”) do “behave the way they do because of the properties of their constituents” (as Sabine Hossenfelder stated in the introduction). However, few scientists would claim that a composite object (made of smaller things) could be entirely explained by — or reduced to - an individual object (or constituent part) of which it is made. Indeed, not many scientists would claim that a composite object is simply the sum of the individual things of which it is made (see ‘Mereology’). Nonetheless, it is still the case that the composite object does indeed behave the way it does — largely — because of the properties of its constituent parts. That is, if its constituents were different, then its overall behaviour would be different too.

All that said, adept philosophers could provide many convoluted thought experiments and arguments which may well demonstrate exceptions to this rule (i.e., the rule about the importance of an object’s constituents).

For example, such philosophers would argue that, in some cases at least, if you take away an individual constituent, then the composite object would still behave normally (or in its usual way). Indeed, on a functionalist account, even removing many individual constituents from a composite object may not (or will not) have a (big?) impact on the behaviour of that object. (This is obviously the case when one thinks in terms of removing, say, a few neurons from a brain or a couple of bricks from a house.)

However, the behaviour of a composite object would still be dependent on its constituents even if some — or many — of its constituents were either removed or substituted with other (material) things (as in functionalist accounts). That’s because this would simply mean that the new constituents would then need to be factored into the story of the composite object. That is, new constituents would then be the — partial - explanation of the behaviour of the composite object. Or if some — even many — constituent parts were removed, then there would still be constituents which haven't been removed. And then they would largely determine the behaviour of the composite object.

Thus, this line of reasoning means that the popular philosophical idea of multiple realizability (as in functionalism) doesn’t necessarily work against reductionism.

All that said, Weinberg still plays down petty reductionism when he continued by saying that “[p]etty reductionism is not worth a fierce defense”. He added:

“Sometimes things can be explained by studying their constituents — sometimes not.”

Albert Einstein and Grand Reductionism

Steven Weinberg offered us a concrete example of his distinction between grand reductionism and petty reductionism when he wrote the following words:

“When Einstein explained Newton’s theories of motion and gravitation, he was not committing petty reductionism. His explanation was not based on some theory about the constituents of anything, but rather on a new physical principle, the General Principle of Relativity.”

In the way Weinberg puts things, it may even be hard to decipher how a reductive strategy would work in the case of Einstein’s General Relativity. Yet, in theory at least, Einstein might well have used a reductive strategy. That is, motion and even gravitation could have, in principle, been explained in terms of a reduction of motion and gravitation to the objects which have mass and to the constituents (or geometry) of space. What’s more, even today gravity can be reduced (if not experimentally) to its (possible?) constituents — i.e., gravitons.

All that said, Einstein constructed his Relativity theories before anyone knew about the fine structure of spacetime (whether loops, foam or whatever) and gravitons. Indeed, all this knowledge might not have helped him anyway. That is, according to Weinberg, Einstein’s “principle” is painted as being purely mathematical and theoretical in nature. Put simply, because Einstein was a theoretical physicist (i.e., not an experimental or “hands-on” physicist), then the constituents of this and that didn’t really play much of a role in his General Relativity. That said, this may be too simplistic an opposition (i.e., as in the theory/experiment binary) to advance. After all, Einstein (to take just one example) had much to say about the constituent “parts” of electromagnetic waves — i.e., photons (see here).

In any case, Weinberg’s upshot is that Einstein reduced things to “simple universal laws”, not to the (physical) constituents of composite objects. However, one wonders (as already hinted at) if these two approaches can ever really exist in splendid isolation from one another — at least over long periods of scientific history.

Weinberg’s (Mild?) Reductionism About Chemistry

There’s a certain sense in which even some strong anti-reductionists would agree with Weinberg's (as it were) mild reductionism about chemistry. (Can reductionism ever be mild to the anti-reductionist?)

For example, Weinberg stated the following:

“[T]here are no principles of chemistry that simply stand on their own, without needing to be explained reductively from the properties of electrons and atomic nuclei.”

This position was once (seemingly?) backed up by Paul Dirac. Weinberg himself states the following:

“[Freeman Dyson] also cited the work of Schrödinger and Dirac on quantum mechanics in 1925 and 1927 as ‘triumphs of reductionism. Bewildering complexities of chemistry and physics were reduced to two lines of algebraic symbols’.”

In one respect, it’s true that Paul Dirac (1902–1984) put the quintessential (scientific) reductionist position (at least according to Murray Gell-Mann) in that his relativistic quantum-mechanical equation for the electron (of 1928) “explained most of physics and the whole of chemistry”.

Of course, the interpretation of what Dirac said himself is entirely dependent on what the word “explained” means in this context. In one sense, then, Dirac’s own position was simply factual. (Or, at the very least, the facts as he saw them.) That is, according to Gell-Mann (again), Dirac presciently realised that

“[a] great many of the phenomena of chemistry are governed largely by the behavior of the electrons as they interact with the nuclei and with one another through electromagnetic effects”.

In that limited sense, Dirac was right. However, if we take Dirac to have believed that literally everything about chemistry could by explained by his equation (or even by physics generally), then that would indeed be problematic.

Now take the physicist Murray Gell-Mann’s position.

Gell-Mann agreed with Dirac’s grand claim when he wrote the following:

“QED [quantum electrodynamics] does explain, in principle, a huge amount of chemistry. It is rigorously applicable to those problems in which the heavy nuclei can be approximated as fixed point particles carrying an electric charge.”

Indeed, Gell-Mann went further when he continued:

“In principle, a theoretical physicist using QED can calculate the behavior of any chemical system in which the detailed internal structure of atomic nuclei is not important.”

If we return to Weinberg.

The Complete Autonomy of All the Sciences?

From reading Steven Weinberg, all he means by saying that the special sciences “don’t stand on their own” is that such principles and laws (to use that non-technical word again) underpin chemistry. This isn’t an argument that everything within chemistry can be explained in terms of those principles, laws and equations. (If these three things can even be distinguished at all.) However, if it weren’t for the laws, principles and equations of physics, then chemistry wouldn’t stand at all. In a strong sense, then, this is obvious. What’s more, even some anti-reductionists would agree — if only if put in these mild terms.

All that said, what Weinberg stated next will be way more controversial and problematic to many anti-reductionists. Weinberg continued:

“[I]n the same way there are no principles of psychology that are freestanding, in the same sense that they do not need ultimately to be understood through the study of the human brain, which in turn must in the end be understood of the basis of physics and chemistry.”

This passage will displease — and even anger — anti-reductionists more than anything else quoted in this essay. After all, psychology is deemed to be autonomous because it’s essentially about human persons (or collections thereof), who are themselves meant to be autonomous. (See ‘Special sciences’.) Thus, any encroachment on psychology from, say, neuroscience, let alone from physics, is often deemed to be sacrilege. (The specialness of the special sciences was advanced by Jerry Fodor way back in 1974. See his paper ‘Special Sciences (or: The Disunity of Science’.)

Murray Gell-Mann goes even further than Steven Weinberg when he argued that psychology is “not yet sufficiently scientific”. What’s more, he went on to say that his

“preference would be to take [them] up in order to participate in the form of making them more scientific”.

All that said, what Weinberg himself argued (from both an anti-reductionist and a reductionist point of view) seems to be pretty harmless. That’s primarily because psychological principles do stand alone without needing to mention anything about physics (or the physics of the brain).

Yet here again Weinberg is talking about the laws, principles and equations of physics which (that word again) underpin “the human brain”, if not the science of psychology itself. (Most psychologists virtually ignore the human brain.)

Again, the principles of psychology don’t need to be understood through the “study of the human brain”, let alone on “the basics of physics and chemistry”. However, the brain is what it is because of the laws, principles and equations of physics. And psychology is what it is because of physical brains (as well as the interactions of such brains and their environments).

Despite all that, the theoretical physicist Sean Carroll often stresses the autonomy of the special sciences. (Jerry Fodor — again — stressed what he called “strong autonomy”.)

The Autonomy of the Special Sciences?

More particularly, Sean Carroll advances the autonomy of what he calls “emergent theories”. (This is an important part of his “poetic naturalism”.) Carroll writes:

“The emergent theory is autonomous [] it works by itself, without reference to other theories.”

Elsewhere, Carroll says that with strong emergence “all stories are autonomous, even incompatible”. Yet, in other places, Carroll also stresses emergent theories and their compatibility with fundamental theories. Indeed, Carroll actually hints at a lack of (complete?) autonomy when he says that “we might learn a little bit about higher levels by studying lower ones”. In addition, Steve Carroll (in a seminar) used the word “consistence” in reference to the fit between emergent and more basic theories.

So how can that consistency and compatibility — between two very different and supposedly autonomous theories — be established?

Carroll also argues that (some) emergent theories are accurate…

How is that accuracy established?

Does Carroll simply assume an accuracy that’s tacitly and essentially guaranteed by a more fundamental (or basic) theory? Thus, doesn’t Carroll himself limit the emergent theory’s supposed autonomy?

In opposition to Sean Carroll, it seems that Murray Gell-Mann didn’t believe in this (complete?) autonomy. That’s because he believed in both a “bottom-up method of building staircases between disciplines”, and a “top-down approach” as well. Yet if the higher-level disciplines were indeed truly autonomous, then why would they require either a “top-down” or a “bottom-up” method? Surely they could stand on their own two feet. Indeed, the fact that Gell-Mann even raised the question of both bottom-up and top-down approaches (or methods) means that he did indeed have a (to use his own words) “bias in what invites the charge of ‘reductionist’”. In other words, because Gell-Mann didn’t believe in the (complete?) autonomy of the special sciences, he could be classed as a reductionist — as he himself admitted. A non-reductionist, on the other hand, would say that the special sciences are completely (or genuinely) autonomous. Thus, they don’t need to account for themselves — at least not via physics.

(*) See my ‘Physicist Steven Weinberg Defended Reductionism: Mary Midgley and Gerald Edelman Attacked It’.

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Isaac Newton’s Religious Physics?

Paul Davies (the physicist and writer of popular science) informs his fellow scientists (as well as his readers) about Isaac Newton’s religious physics.

Paul Davies and Isaac Newton

The main problem with Paul Davies’s stress on Isaac Newton’s religious beliefs, and how they influenced (or even determined) his actual physics, is that he fails to distinguish the context of discovery from the context of justification. Thus, at its crudest, it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to Newton’s theories, ideas or hypotheses (i.e., in physics) whether he was a serial killer, believed in pink goblins, was a Christian fundamentalist or stole all his ideas from Leibniz.

Broadly speaking, Paul Davies’s stress on Newton’s religious beliefs is something which had just previously occurred in the national media of many countries. This (as it were) new-found interest in Newton (at least when it came to the media) was largely down to the circulation of unpublished and previously unknown documents which had been written by the 17th-century English scientist (see here).

More particularly, many commentators were very excited by the fact that Newton prophesied that the world would end in 2060!

The story about Newton’s 2060 prophesy (alongside comments on his alchemy, his fixation with numbers, his many chronologies, his interpretations of the Bible, and his takes on the “philosopher’s stone” and “sacred geometry”) was featured on the front page of the UK’s Daily Telegraph, Canada’s National Post and other national newspapers. Added to that were the many internet and television features which followed, as well as a number of documentary films.

Of course, much has also been made of Newton’s (as it were) religious credentials. What’s more, spiritual-but-not-religious people and New-Agers have also made much of Newton’s alchemy, Biblical prophesies, chronologies, fixation with numbers, interpretations of the Bible, and his takes on the philosopher’s stone and sacred geometry. Indeed, their biographical and historical detail about Newton may be largely correct too.

So what can we draw from all that?

This new hullabaloo about Newton occurred in February and March 2003. That was around four years before Davies’s article ‘Taking Science on Faith’ for the New York Times (which is the main focus of this essay).

All that said, nothing in the words above is intended to imply that Paul Davies himself doesn’t have his own original and purely physics-based angle on Newton’s (as it were) religious physics. However, it can be safely assumed that many physicists and scientists both read and watched at least some of these titillating stories and programmes about Newton — despite what Davies believes about their complete ignorance of his biography and (well) religious motivations.

Isaac Newton’s Religious Physics?

The English physicist and science writer Paul Davies uses the case of Isaac Newton to get his central point across about the (to use his own word) “faith” scientists are supposed to have in the Universe’s “immutable laws”. He wrote:

“Christians envisage God as upholding the natural order from beyond the universe, while physicists think of their laws as inhabiting an abstract transcendent realm of perfect mathematical relationships.”

But what about Isaac Newton himself?

In basic terms, Davies ties Newton’s religious views to his physics. He told us that Newton

“first got the idea of absolute, universal, perfect, immutable laws from the Christian doctrine that God created the world and ordered it in a rational way”.

Davies then concluded by saying that

“[t]his shared failing is no surprise, because the very notion of physical law is a theological one in the first place”.

Davies adds that this is a “fact that makes many scientists squirm”.

It must be said that Davies is certainly correct about Newton’s religious views. And he’s also correct about how Newton himself tied his religious views to his own physics.

Take just a single example. Newton once stated the following:

“When I wrote my treatise about our System I had an eye upon such Principles as might work with considering men for the belief of a Deity and nothing can rejoice me more than to find it useful for that purpose.”

Yet all that is part of the context of discovery — as we shall see later.

Davies then (as it were) had a go at scientists for failing to see that Newton’s (to put it crudely!) physics is religious.

Davies also told us that

“[h]istorians of science are well aware that Newton and his contemporaries believed that in doing science they were uncovering the divine plan for the universe in the form of its underlying mathematical order”.

Indeed, historians of science will be aware of all that. Yet not many scientists would have a problem with any of this — despite what Davies says. Of course, some (or many) of them probably wouldn’t find it very interesting - at least not from a scientific perspective. However, Davies is arguing that they should find it interesting from a scientific perspective.

In any case, Davies concluded:

“I am depressed that reminding scientists of this well-known historical fact should elicit such a shock-horror response.”

It can be strongly doubted that there has been such a “shock-horror response” from most — or even any — scientists. This is especially the case if most scientists are well aware of the context of justification and context of discovery distinction (which will be tackled in a moment). Of course, scientists needn’t use these precise or specific technical terms from the philosophy of science.

Indeed, there’s one physicist who’s neither ignorant of, nor shocked by, Newton’s (as it were) religious context. Take the case of the theoretical physicist Lee Smolin.

This is what Smolin wrote in response to Davies’s essay ‘Taking Science on Faith’:

“As Davies says, the idea of immutable eternal laws arose in Newton’s time, when science and theology were much closer together.”

Smolin even (at least partially) agreed with Davies’s central thesis when he continued in this way:

“It does seem that getting rid of this idea is a necessary step for modern science to become fully free of the 17th century theological climate in which it was born.”

Relevantly, Smolin then diverges from Davies:

“However it is an exaggeration to say that until this is done science’s claims to be ‘free of faith are bogus.’ Most of science is healthy and most scientists rely on notions of laws that are restricted to certain domains where they are well tested.”

This passage includes Smolin’s realisation that Davies continuously conflates certain physicists with scientists as a whole. What’s more, Davies isn’t even right about all physicists, as Smolin’s own physics (or philosophy of physics) shows. And so too does the position of, to take only one example, Leonard Susskind and all those other physicists who’ve raised the possibility of “local bylaws” in the Universe. (Susskind once wrote: “If these things prove true, then some features of the laws of physics (maybe most) will be local environmental facts rather than written-in-stone laws — laws that could not be otherwise.”) There are also those physicists (a fair few of them) who’ve raised the possibility that the universal constants may not be… constant after all (see here).

Added to all that is the fact that Davies is clearly wrong about most biologists and virtually all other scientists (i.e., outside physicists) when it comes to their supposed faith in immutable laws.

[See my essay ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Faith in His Idea That Science is “Founded on Faith”’ for more on this.]

In any case, the basic problem with Davies’s position on Newton’s religious physics is that he fails to distinguish the context of discovery from the context of justification.

The Context of Discovery and Justification

It can be supposed that in a short article (i.e., ‘Taking Science on Faith’) for the New York Times (in which most of Davies words in this essay can be found), Paul Davies simply didn’t have time to say much about the discovery-justification distinction. That said, he virtually ignores it elsewhere too.

Put at its simplest. This is a distinction which can be made between the creation (or formation) of a new scientific theory, idea or hypothesis, and the justification, defense, and/or verification (or testing) of it. Thus, at its crudest, it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to Newton’s theories, ideas or hypotheses whether he was a serial killer, believed in pink goblins, was a Christian fundamentalist or stole all his ideas from Leibniz.

It’s also worth stating here that virtually every scientist in Europe was a Christian and monotheist when Newton was working and writing. Thus, it would have been very strange if their religious beliefs hadn’t impacted in some way — or even in many ways — on their work.

So, basically, the context of discovery is all the stuff (from Davies or whoever) about Newton’s religious beliefs and even what he got up to in his private life.

Now if we get back to the precise nature of the discovery-justification distinction.

The philosopher Karl Popper had influential things to say about this distinction. (The terms “context of discovery” and “context of justification” are often associated with Hans Reichenbach’s work.)

Take Popper’s position as it’s expressed in the following passage (from his The Logic of Scientific Discovery):

“The initial state, the act of conceiving or inventing a theory, seems to me neither to call for logical analysis not to be susceptible of it. The question how it happens that a new idea occurs to a man — whether it is a musical theme, a dramatic conflict, or a scientific theory — may be of great interest to empirical psychology; but it is irrelevant to the logical analysis of scientific knowledge. This latter is concerned not with questions of fact [ ] but only with questions of justification or validity [ ]. Its questions are of the following kind. Can a statement be justified? And if so, how? Is it testable? Is it logically dependent on certain other statements? Or does it perhaps contradict them? [ ] Accordingly I shall distinguish sharply between the process of conceiving a new idea, and the methods and results of examining it logically.”

There are both positive and negative aspects to Popper’s influential take on the discovery-justification distinction.

For a start, one certainly doesn’t need to take the view that the context of discovery isn’t a legitimate subject for the philosophy of science. (At one point in the 20th century, this was indeed the consensus position.) Moreover, that context of discovery isn’t even all about “intuition”, “eureka moments”, “creativity”, “cultural and religious influences” and the like either.

Thus, there are problems with this distinction - as there are with all similar distinctions.

So it’s true that the distinction may be too neat and tidy. (Note that this essay isn’t about the distinction.) In Newton’s case, it isn’t the whole story that he created a theory in a particular cultural, religious and biographical context, and only then (or after) did he scientifically, epistemically and logically assess it. In other words, even at the heights of Newton’s religious enthusiasm (say, when he triumphantly tied his religion to physics or vice versa) there would have been (purely) scientific and logical aspects to his (as its sometimes put) theory formation…

The central point is simply that there is a context of discovery.

Of course, Paul Davies may respond to all this by arguing that he’s tying Newton’s religious beliefs to his theories in physics in very precise and even technical ways. Thus, perhaps it would be very hard to do the same thing with Newton (possibly) being a serial killer, (possibly) believing in pink goblins, or (possibly) stealing all his ideas from Leibniz.

That said, it’s worth saying is that an artful commentator (with a knowledge of physics, history, religion, and biography) could indeed link (or tie) Newton’s (possibly) being a serial killer, (possibly) believing in pink goblins, or (possibly) stealing all his ideas from Leibniz to Newton’s actual physics (even if not as convincingly as Davies). Indeed, I could imagine a Freudian psychoanalyst doing a very good job of this kind of thing. (He or she would have a field day with Newton.)

Finally, it can be said that lots of religious people are keen to get Newton (as it were) back on board (i.e., after he was “stolen” by atheists, materialists, Rationalists, or whatnot). Yet, if we adhere to the context of justification, then it simply doesn’t matter if Newton was a (proto)Enlightenment thinker (see here) and a hard-headed Rationalist (see here), or if he was a Christian literalist (see here), a magician (see here) or even a merchant of woo (see here).

Infinite Contexts of Discovery

Paul Davies and other commentators wouldn’t place too much stress on literally every aspect of any given context of discovery.

Thus, if Newton’s Christianity or monotheism is important to his physics, then was his antipathy toward Catholics (see here), his hatred of counterfeit money, etc. important too? Of course, Paul Davies directly ties Newton’s theological ideas to his actual physics - as already stated. So perhaps my examples are unfair. However, I’m sure that an artful historian, biographer or even scientist could tie something peculiar in Newton’s private and religious life to at least something in his physics (or vice versa) if he tried hard enough.

So let’s take another admittedly extreme example to get the point across.

Many — or even all — scientists were introduced to the various sciences by particular teachers at school. Does this mean that contemporary physicists should factor in these teachers, their characters, what they said and how they said it into their actual theories in physics?

More relevantly, if religious commentators are going to stress Newton’s religious beliefs and attitudes, then they’re going to need to do a hell of a lot of picking and choosing. That’s primarily because I doubt that all Newton’s religious beliefs and attitudes will fall neatly into place in any (contemporary) religious camp.

For example, Newton rejected the Trinity, which would not be of much use to Catholics and many other Christians. (See Newton on the Trinity here.) And should commenters stress the fact that Newton believed that the Papal Office was the realisation of the Biblical predictions of the Antichrist? (See Newton on the Antichrist here.)

Newton also denied that there is such a thing as an immortal soul (see here), which would be unpalatable to most monotheists. Newton even refused the sacrament of the Anglican church, which was offered just before his death (see here). And how do contemporary Christians feel about those Deists who’ve claimed Newton for themselves (see here)?

What’s more, Newton has also been claimed by rationalists against pantheists and (religious) enthusiasts. More particularly, Newton’s science was seen to be an antidote to mysticism, religious (as it were) emotionalism and superstition. So rather than Newton being some kind of (as he’s been called) “mystic” or “magician”, his physics and theories have actually been used to counteract such things.

So, as can be seen, almost everyone wants a piece of Isaac Newton!

And that’s precisely why the discovery/justification distinction is so important, relevant and, indeed, helpful.

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(*) See my essays ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Deep — or Specious! — Questions About Life, the Universe and Everything’ and ‘Physicist Paul Davies’s Faith in His Idea That Science is “Founded on Faith”’.

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