I make my living in a lab. I like full disclosure, so I tell you this to let you know that I have a vital interest in science and scientific inquiry. I am classically trained as a chemist. Nowhere in my training as a chemist have I found reason to doubt the notion that humanity, and indeed all of creation, was the product of a well prepared creator with an intensely personal vision for how this universe would look, and even how it would work.
I recently heard the phrase “sabotaging science” in reference to some church-based curriculum or another (yes, there are still a few educational programs which are built upon the foundations of religious thought).
This made me think, “If I were to create a universe, and give a certain group of life forms the ability to think and reason, would I then also sabotage that ability?”
It is a tough question if you consider the ramifications. First, I am going to create this prototype setting for my favorite creatures to occupy. Then I am going to create those favorite creatures, loosely based on my own image, and place them in this setting.
With further thought, the real question soon becomes, “Do I indeed give them free will to make choices, and thus, mistakes?”
As a mere mortal, there is much to consider. Eventually, though, I think it necessarily comes down to “If they are to find truth, how can they not have the ability to choose between truth and lies?”
Now, if sabotaging science actually happened, then I would assert that it was done from the beginning, when humans were established as the dominant form of life. With human participation comes human error. This is the true sabotage that has happened. Give a person the chance to observe a monkey and a man, and instantly the similarities are obvious to this person. But what of the less obvious differences?
It is ironic that this doesn’t hold for human creations. Hand a person two items made by human hands or by today’s equivalent, the robot. If the items aren’t exactly alike, the differences will be quickly obvious, while the similarities sometimes remain somewhat elusive.
For example, let us consider a small salad bowl and a similarly sized round ash tray. To the casual observer, the two items are obviously different. The recognition of this difference is nearly immediate among a wide variety of intellects. Although the two items are both round, and may both be the same color, and perhaps close to the same size, the difference is obvious.
You may ask “What difference?”, to which I would answer, “The intention of the creator. That is what separates the salad bowl from the ash tray.” Even to a casual observer, this is quickly obvious. This is because the observer has an understanding of the purpose for each. Why not for the monkey and the man?
I propose that it is because you and I might one day create either the ash tray or the salad bowl, given enough patience and the right material and the desire to do so. However, neither one of us will come close to creating a human or a monkey or any other of the wonders all around us.
You don’t buy it? Well, go ahead. Create something on the scale of the majestic world and universe we live in. Try to create the moment that hundreds of thousands of people unwittingly share as they each observe a beautiful sunset, each from their own vantage point. Try to create the feeling in your heart that happens when you hear a baby say “Dada” or “Mama” for the first time. Want something easier? Try creating a dung beatle, a cockroach, or a flea. Where would you start?
This level of detailed work, the type of artistry that went into making just the few things we have discovered about our world, is just too much for most people to grasp. So rather than looking up and acknowledging the wonder, we look down and wonder about knowledge.
We build tools and laboratories. We create measuring sticks, and we create methods, and we create ways to quickly share the details of what we measure with others who are also measuring. In all of this, we claim to build up a healthy detachment from what we are studying, we even claim to be “objective” and unattached to any method or theory, when in fact we know the opposite is true.
Just as the whole of creation brings a twinkle to the eye of the intelligent architect in charge of all, the author of a scientific paper will often defend the indefensible to the bitter end because his name is on it. Well folks, I think that we are the indefensible, and that grand architect has indeed gone the distance to defend us in spite of that, because of the love that develops between the creator and the creation.
Not only have we been allowed to search for truth, and to fail, but we’ve been allowed to keep trying again and again, with the encouraging promise of impending success. This applies to everyone, regardless of whether you search for truth in a church or at a lab bench, as a journalist or as a laborer. Today, tomorrow, and the next day you will have another chance to get it right.
