SECTION SIXTH.
Of the Impossibility of a Physico—Theological Proof.
If, then, neither a pure conception nor the general experience of an
existing being can provide a sufficient basis for the proof of the
existence of the Deity, we can make the attempt by the only other
mode— that of grounding our argument upon a determinate experience
of the phenomena of the present world, their constitution and
disposition, and discover whether we can thus attain to a sound
conviction of the existence of a Supreme Being. This argument we shall
term the physico—theological argument. If it is shown to be
insufficient, speculative reason cannot present us with any
satisfactory proof of the existence of a being corresponding to our
transcendental idea.
It is evident from the remarks that have been made in the
preceding sections, that an answer to this question will be far from
being difficult or unconvincing. For how can any experience be
adequate with an idea? The very essence of an idea consists in the
fact that no experience can ever be discovered congruent or adequate
with it. The transcendental idea of a necessary and all—sufficient
being is so immeasurably great, so high above all that is empirical,
which is always conditioned, that we hope in vain to find materials in
the sphere of experience sufficiently ample for our conception, and in
vain seek the unconditioned among things that are conditioned, while
examples, nay, even guidance is denied us by the laws of empirical
synthesis.
If the Supreme Being forms a link in the chain of empirical
conditions, it must be a member of the empirical series, and, like the
lower members which it precedes, have its origin in some higher member
of the series. If, on the other hand, we disengage it from the
chain, and cogitate it as an intelligible being, apart from the series
of natural causes— how shall reason bridge the abyss that separates
the latter from the former? All laws respecting the regress from
effects to causes, all synthetical
additions to our knowledge relate
solely to possible experience and the objects of the sensuous world,
and, apart from them, are without significance.
The world around us opens before our view so magnificent a spectacle
of order, variety, beauty, and conformity to ends, that whether we
pursue our observations into the infinity of space in the one
direction, or into its illimitable works in the other, whether
we regard the world in its greatest or its least manifestations—
even after we have attained to the highest summit of knowledge which
our weak minds can reach, we find that language in the presence of
wonders so inconceivable has lost its force, and number its power to
reckon, nay, even thought fails to conceive adequately, and our
conception of the whole dissolves into an astonishment without power
of expression— all the more eloquent that it is dumb. Everywhere
around us we observe a chain of causes and effects, of means and ends,
of death and birth; and, as nothing has entered of itself into the
condition in which we find it, we are constantly referred to some
other thing, which itself suggests the same inquiry regarding its
cause, and thus the universe must sink into the abyss of
nothingness, unless we admit that, besides this infinite chain of
contingencies, there exists something that is primal and
self—subsistent— something which, as the cause of this phenomenal
world, secures its continuance and preservation.
This highest cause— what magnitude shall we attribute to it? Of
the content of the world we are ignorant; still less can we estimate
its magnitude by comparison with the sphere of the possible. But
this supreme cause being a necessity of the human mind, what is
there to prevent us from attributing to it such a degree of perfection
as to place it above the sphere of all that is possible? This we can
easily do, although only by the aid of the faint outline of an
abstract conception, by representing this being to ourselves as
containing in itself, as an individual substance, all possible
perfection— a conception which satisfies that requirement of reason
which demands parsimony in principles,* which is free from
self—contradiction, which even contributes to the extension of
the
employment of reason in experience, by means of the guidance
afforded by this idea to order and system, and which in no respect
conflicts with any law of experience.
[*]
A reference to the metaphysical dogma: Entia practer necessitatem non sunt
multiplicanda, which may also be applied to logic, by the substitution of principia for entia. — Tr.
This argument always deserves to be mentioned with respect. It is
the oldest, the clearest, and that most in conformity with the
common reason of humanity. It animates the study of nature, as it
itself derives its existence and draws ever new strength from that
source. It introduces aims and ends into a sphere in which our
observation could not of itself have discovered them, and extends
our knowledge of nature, by directing our attention to a unity, the
principle of which lies beyond nature. This knowledge of nature
again reacts upon this idea— its cause; and thus our belief in a
divine author of the universe rises to the power of an irresistible
conviction.
For these reasons it would be utterly hopeless to attempt to rob
this argument of the authority it has always enjoyed. The mind,
unceasingly elevated by these considerations, which, although
empirical, are so remarkably powerful, and continually adding to their
force, will not suffer itself to be depressed by the doubts
suggested by subtle speculation; it tears itself out of this state
of uncertainty, the moment it casts a look upon the wondrous forms
of nature and the majesty of the universe, and rises from height to
height, from condition to condition, till it has elevated itself to
the supreme and unconditioned author of all.
But although we have nothing to object to the reasonableness and
utility of this procedure, but have rather to commend and encourage
it, we cannot approve of the claims which this argument advances to
demonstrative certainty and to a reception upon its own merits,
apart from favour or support by other arguments. Nor can it injure the
cause of morality to endeavour to lower the tone of the arrogant
sophist, and to teach him that modesty and moderation which are the
properties of a belief that brings calm and content into the mind,
without prescribing to it an unworthy subjection. I maintain, then,
that the physico—theological argument is insufficient of itself to
prove the existence of a Supreme Being, that it must entrust this to
the ontological argument— to which it serves merely as an
introduction, and that, consequently, this argument contains the
only possible ground of proof (possessed by speculative reason) for
the existence of this being.
The chief momenta in the physico—theological argument are as follow:
1. We observe in the world manifest signs of an arrangement full of
purpose, executed with great wisdom, and argument in whole of a
content indescribably various, and of an extent without limits. 2.
This arrangement of means and ends is entirely foreign to the things
existing in the world— it belongs to them merely as a contingent
attribute; in other words, the nature of different things could not of
itself, whatever means were employed, harmoniously tend towards
certain purposes, were they not chosen and directed for these purposes
by a rational and disposing principle, in accordance with certain
fundamental ideas. 3. There exists, therefore, a sublime and wise
cause (or several), which is not merely a blind, all—powerful
nature, producing the beings and events which fill the world in
unconscious fecundity, but a free and intelligent cause of the
world. 4. The unity of this cause may be inferred from the unity of
the reciprocal relation existing between the parts of the world, as
portions of an artistic edifice— an inference which all our
observation favours, and all principles of analogy support.
In the above argument, it is inferred from the analogy of certain
products of nature with those of human art, when it compels Nature
to bend herself to its purposes, as in the case of a house, a ship, or
a watch, that the same kind of causality— namely, understanding and
will— resides in nature. It is also declared that the internal
possibility of this freely—acting nature (which is the source of all
art, and perhaps also of human reason) is derivable from another and
superhuman art— a conclusion which would perhaps be found incapable of
standing the test of subtle transcendental criticism. But to neither
of these opinions shall we at present object. We shall only remark
that it must be confessed that, if we are to discuss the subject of
cause at all, we cannot proceed more securely than with the guidance
of the analogy subsisting between nature and such products of
design— these being the only products whose causes and modes of
organization are completely known to us. Reason would be unable to
satisfy her own requirements, if she passed from a causality which she
does know, to obscure and indemonstrable principles of explanation
which she does not know.
According to the physico—theological argument, the connection
and
harmony existing in the world evidence the contingency of the form
merely, but not of the matter, that is, of the substance of the world.
To establish the truth of the latter opinion, it would be necessary to
prove that all things would be in themselves incapable of this harmony
and order, unless they were, even as regards their
substance, the
product of a supreme wisdom. But this would require very different
grounds of proof from those presented by the analogy with human art.
This proof can at most, therefore, demonstrate the existence of an
architect of the world, whose efforts are limited by the
capabilities of the material with which he works, but not of a
creator
of the world, to whom all things are subject. Thus this argument is
utterly insufficient for the task before us— a demonstration of the
existence of an all—sufficient being. If we wish to prove the
contingency of matter, we must have recourse to a transcendental
argument, which the physicotheological was constructed expressly to
avoid.
We infer, from the order and design visible in the universe, as a
disposition of a thoroughly contingent character, the existence of a
cause proportionate thereto. The conception of this cause must contain
certain determinate qualities, and it must therefore be regarded as
the conception of a being which possesses all power, wisdom, and so
on, in one word, all perfection— the conception, that is, of an
all—sufficient being. For the predicates of very great, astonishing,
or immeasurable power and excellence, give us no determinate
conception of the thing, nor do they inform us what the thing may be
in itself. They merely indicate the relation existing between the
magnitude of the object and the observer, who compares it with himself
and with his own power of comprehension, and are mere expressions of
praise and reverence, by which the object is either magnified, or
the observing subject depreciated in relation to the object. Where
we have to do with the magnitude (of the perfection) of a thing, we
can discover no determinate conception, except that which
comprehends all possible perfection or completeness, and it is only
the total (omnitudo) of reality which is completely determined in
and through its conception alone.
Now it cannot be expected that any one will be bold enough to
declare that he has a perfect insight into the relation which the
magnitude of the world he contemplates bears (in its extent
as well as
in its content) to omnipotence, into that of the order and design in
the world to the highest wisdom, and that of the unity of the world to
the absolute unity of a Supreme Being.
* Physico—theology is therefore
incapable of presenting a determinate conception of a supreme cause of
the world, and is therefore insufficient as a principle of theology— a
theology which is itself to be the basis of religion.
[*]
Kant's meaning is, that no one will be bold enough to declare that he is certain
that the world could not have existed without an omnipotent author; that none but the highest
wisdom could have produced the harmony and order we observe in it; and that its unity is possible
only under the condition of absolute unity. — Tr.
The attainment of absolute totality is completely impossible on
the path of empiricism. And yet this is the path pursued in the
physicotheological argument. What means shall we employ to bridge
the abyss?
After elevating ourselves to admiration of the magnitude of the
power, wisdom, and other attributes of the author of the world, and
finding we can advance no further, we leave the argument on
empirical grounds, and proceed to infer the contingency of the world
from the order and conformity to aims that are observable in it.
From this contingency we infer, by the help of transcendental
conceptions alone, the existence of something absolutely necessary;
and, still advancing, proceed from the conception of the absolute
necessity of the first cause to the completely determined or
determining conception thereof— the conception of an all—embracing
reality. Thus the physico—theological, failing in its undertaking,
recurs in its embarrassment to the cosmological argument; and, as this
is merely the ontological argument in disguise, it executes its design
solely by the aid of pure reason, although it at first professed to
have no connection with this faculty and to base its entire
procedure upon experience alone.
The physico—theologians have therefore no reason to regard with such
contempt the transcendental mode of argument, and to look down upon
it, with the conceit of clear—sighted observers of nature, as the
brain—cobweb of obscure speculatists. For, if they reflect upon and
examine their own arguments, they will find that, after following
for some time the path of nature and experience, and discovering
themselves no nearer their object, they suddenly leave this path and
pass into the region
of pure possibility, where they hope to reach
upon the wings of ideas what had eluded all their empirical
investigations. Gaining, as they think, a firm footing after this
immense leap, they extend their determinate conception— into the
possession of which they have come, they know not how— over the
whole sphere of creation, and explain their ideal, which is entirely a
product of pure reason, by illustrations drawn from experience— though
in a degree miserably unworthy of the grandeur of the object, while
they refuse to acknowledge that they have arrived at this cognition or
hypothesis by a very different road from that of experience.
Thus the physico—theological is based upon the cosmological, and
this upon the ontological proof of the existence of a Supreme Being;
and as besides these three there is no other path open to
speculative reason, the ontological proof, on the ground of pure
conceptions of reason, is the only possible one, if any proof of a
proposition so far transcending the empirical exercise of the
understanding is possible at all.