Science in Christian Perspective
Galileo and the Church: Tensions with a Message for Today Part IV
T. H. LEITH
Atkinson College York University
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
From: JASA 25 (December 1973): 154-157.
The Strategies and Impact of the Copernicans
It is worth asking whether the
Dialogue contained anything really
novel in favour
of the Copernican scheme. It did, even if we ignore the first printing of his
strange tidal theory mentioned earlier. For one thing it mentions the
annual variation
in the paths of the
The year of 1973 has been designated Copernican Year in honor of the 500th anniversary of the birth of Copernicus in 1473. In keeping with this commemoration, the journal ASA offers a four-part publication of a paper presented by T. H. Leith at the 1972 Convention of the American Scientific Affiliation at York University. Port I appeared in Journal ASA 25, 21-24. March 1973; Part II in Journal ASA 25, 64-66, June, 1973; and Part III in Journal ASA 25, 111-113, September 1973. |
sunspots, first reported by Francisco Sizzi, a rather puerile critic
of Galileo's
early telescopic work, in 1613 and indicating that the equator of
solar rotation
was inclined to the ecliptic plane. The inclination, of course, causes a change
in the angle between the sunspot paths and the ecliptic from season to season,
in a yearly cycle, and Galileo noted that the obvious reason was our
annual motion
about the Sun. It is true that the apparent paths of the spots could
be explained
in the Tychonic model also, though the Earth is totally stationary within it,
but it would require very complex movements of the Sun which Galileo considered
quite unlikely.
The other novelty is the Dialogue's profound dissimilarity to the
great astronomical
treatises which pre
ceded it. Nowhere does Galileo care to explore the details of the revolutions
of the planets or of the Moon and seldom is it mathematical.
Apparently he cared
as little for kinematic descriptions like Kepler's, even if it were
claimed that
they were true, as he did for fictional devices. The latter tended, he thought,
to perpetuate the dichotomies of the ancient two-level cosmology
while the former
continued to hind the physics of motion in its terrestrial fetters.
Instead, Galileo's
ambition was to emphasize the geodynamic aspects of a Copernican world view and
to call for the extension into the heavens of the physics which he was actively
building on Earth.
Galileo, of course, recognized the coherence provided by Copernicus in placing
the planets about the Sun in a specific order, but even this seemed
to be merely
an esthetic judgment carrying weight only for a mathematician. In its
place Galileo
wished to offer evidence of the legitimacy of Copernicus' basic
insight; evidence
of the inability of traditional argument to falsify the motion of the Earth and
instead two new physical proofs of its movement: evidence of the similarity of
the planets and the Moon to the Earth, and the evidence of similarity
of the planetary
and lunar motions to those exhibited in terrestrial physics. The
alternative which
he aimed to falsify was the Aristotelian philosophy of nature. Ptolemaic astronomy
was attacked only indirectly because of its Aristotelian facets; its
mathematical
devices, or modern improvements upon them, were unimportant to
Galileo's concerns.
In this exercise he prospered, seriously undermining Aristotelian physics here,
and in his Two New Sciences17 published later. He was perhaps less successful
against Tycho's doctrine. But his arguments unfortunately did little
for the kinematic
credibility of Copernicanism for they left the Moon and the planets
circling the
Earth and the Sun at constant angular velocities, just as a ball would circle
the center of the Earth endlessly if rolling on a frictionless
surface. This was
much too simplistic after Kepler's labors. If he criticized others for 'saving
the appearances', he could not even do that much himself.
It would seem, when Galileo wrote in The Assayer
that the universe stands like an open book "but we can understand it only
if we begin by learning to comprehend its language and interpret its characters
(for) it is written in the language of mathematics and its characters
are circles,
triangles, and other geometrical shapes" that his agreement with Kepler,
who might have said the same thing, was more apparent than real. It might have
been repeated too by Galileo's younger contemporary René Descartes with
even more disparity of meaning. Certainly it was in the spirit of the
many Renaissance
figures who read in nature innumerable mathematical analogies, often in defense
of traditional cosmology and with whom Galileo could scarcely
agree"18. Even
the follower of Ptolemy, arguing that his mathematical devices were capable of
being made adequate to prediction and thus should not be matters of contention
among astronomers, could have enunciated the same creed. But how
varied the implications,
how diverse the pre-dispositions, how conflicting the connotations!
Clearly, the meaning of the mathematization of nature in the Renaissance is, if
not obscure, complex. It is dangerous simply to label it Platonic or
Pythagorean,
as is often done, for the adjectives can indicate an
attitude as well as a position or indeed an assortment of
modifications of each.
Copernicus' position was not that of a Platonist or Pythagorean or he
would have
agreed that the mathematical patterns of nature must remain hidden
from us. Rather,
like Tycho, Kepler and Galileo, be believed that nature could be
treated in mathematical
terms, that we seek out mathematical relations by observation and experiment,
and that our knowledge of nature's structure is gained by intensive
study of limited
areas of experience. Even the rationalist Descartes would say "God could
well have arranged things in countless ways, the way which He
actually chose ...
may be determined only by observation." But their methods were different:
Copernicus and Kepler were willing to find patterns and to suggest novel (and
unsatisfactory) physical foundations for them, Tyeho was prone to assume much
of Aristotle's physics and traditional Biblical exegesis and to work
from there,
while Galileo and Descartes could overlook details about planetary motions in
trying first to move theft terrestrial physics into the heavens.
Methodological diversity is an indication of disagreement as to
tactics and strategy
in resolving a scientific problem. It is often an expression too of
dispositional
disaccord as when we compare Kepler's, Galileo's, and Descartes' philosophies
of nature on a broader level than-their consonance regarding a
mathematical world.
Kepler was mystical, sympathetic with aspects of astrology, and convinced that
the cosmos was finite; Galileo was hard-headed, opposed to the occult
to the point
that he denied the Moon's influence on the tides, and of mechanistic
and materialistic
bent; and Descartes could offer sincerely many certitudes about the
world assumedly
based upon reason, reduce matter to space, and found his physics upon
the direct
activity of God. Their followers, in addition, could disagree vigorously about
the implications of these, and like, matters.
So could those seeking a reconciliation of theft views with theology. Kepler's
astrology would be suspect and, in time, his finite world would be interpreted
as discrediting the power and glory of God. Galileo's comment in The
Assayer that
"I don't believe that anything more is necessary to give rise to
our tastes,
smells, and sounds than that external objects have sizes, shapes, numbers and
less or greater speeds" was destined to stir endless controversies about
materialism and mechanistic philosophy. Recall, for example, what
affinities one
can find between these in Newton's apologetics and then remember
Leibniz's opprobrium19.
And Descartes was condemned widely because his physics was difficult
to reconcile
with transsubstantiation while Jansenists and Calvinists, on the
other hand, favored
its determinism.
It is critical, then, that we realize that the implications of the Copernican
revolution for the church lay not only in its simple challenge to traditional
exegesis of a few passages or even to the central place,
geometrically if we will,
of man and the drama of the fall and redemption. Those may have been clearest
at first, as they were to Melanehthon or to Osiander who wrote the notoriously
misleading preface to Copernicus' Revolutions, but it required the
social upheavals
and tensions of most of a century to get Rome to follow Melanehthon's
advice and
to repress what he had called the impudence of its Copernican
intellectuals. Even
then it required peninsular and Vatican polities of
which we have given no account here, and an apparent frontal attack upon vested
authority, to bring it into action. The Church moved when goaded and
when it recognized
just who Galileo was making the final arbiter on hermeneutical rules whenever
science was involved, and when they saw that this implied giving to a
novel astronomy
and physics the power to break down the harmonious world of tradition20.
How little though the Church, or Galileo for that matter, could see
the many other
consequences of the revolution, for it continues to our day. By
complex and intertwining
paths it led to Newton's and Laplace's physics and on to Einstein, to deism and
then agnosticism, to new cosmologies, to Descartes and Locke and on
through Hume
and Kant and Spinoza to contemporary philosophy, and to a thorough revision of
man's view of himself exhibited by a modern theological conservative as well as
by a Marxist or a Bertrand Russell21. We are, of course, not arguing
that a Copernican
system was the sole or even a conscious source of these developments;
we are saying
that the scheme, its developing physical base, and the philosophies
in which these
were initially applied carried diverse and startling implications. No
suppressions
of the next centuries after Galileo could contain them; an
increasingly pluralistic
society or complex of societies never can.
This is the ease with all novel scientific ideas. They cannot be restrained if
the human mind is to be permitted a measure of curiosity and if its suggestions
about the world are to be put to test. The contemporary church as a society, is
surely obliged to accept this just as it must if its conception of a natural revelation
of God is to be taken seriously. But the thinkers who enunciate ideas in their
initial or developing forms, or who use them, do so within varied philosophical
attitudes and use the ideas as well in constructing at least
partially novel world
views. Dialogue on philosophical issues and a person's private beliefs are even
more difficult to constrain, as the prohibitions of the Holy Office
on Copernicanism,
the Nazis, the Stalin years, and denominational history have reminded
us sharply.
With that fact too the organized Church must come to terms in our time.
Perhaps the warning by Galileo should be recalled here: permit
tradition and authority
in ecclesiastical matters to overrule empirical data and scientific expertise,
and one may ruin and subvert an institution. Ideas, observation and
experimentation
exist in free places and with free persons, and they eventually erode
and invade,
discrediting the authority which attempted to proscribe them. The other side of
the coin however, recognized by Melanehthon and the Holy Office22 was
that scientific
discoveries involve questioning and upheaval equally capable of
destroying traditions
and authority which is now taken to be illegitimate. The Church's obligation to
foster new insights and to recognize the breadth of revelation should help to
preserve it from Galileo's prophecy; how it handles the implications of these,
and the philosophies attendant upon them, will govern how
satisfactorily it survives
the impact foreseen by the Lutheran scholar and Roman officialdom.
What the Church Must Offer Science
Let us look, in conclusion, at the opportunities afforded the Church
in the light
of these considerations, for we should see matters positively. It is
no longer
sufficient to rest quietly, like the Holy Office in 1633, in the
belief that novel
scientific ideas seem at first glance to he philosophically absurd
and/or formally
heretical. Too often we have heard that some theory is imperfectly
evidenced and
that the Church need not treat it seriously. It may he so, but when a theory is
corroborated extensively by severe testing and it gains wide recognition, this
attitude is no longer acceptable. Too frequently we react to the unfamiliar as
if it were preposterous, though there is often no easy resolution to
such a psychology
except time. Likewise, too commonly our mind-set on matters
exegetical or theological
works to confuse heresy with the unusual.
Let us look first at exegesis. Copernicus, Kepler, Thomas Campanella
in his Apologia
pro Galileo of 1622-23, and Galileo all recognized that hermeneutics
is, more than
was admitted, a human art influenced by the worldview of the scholar. This we
too must understand, however high is the exegete's Scriptural view. If we do,
we must expect the Biblical scholar to give more serious attention to
the likelihood
that many passages are pre-scientific or non-scientific than he often
has, interpreting
them instead in the light of an antiquated conception of nature. Here
the scientist
is obliged to inform him of his anachronisms so that he may be more perceptive.
We should fully expect that the process will be attended by
theological revisions
as well. Perhaps this sounds gratuitous or even supercilious but it
is the lesson
of Church history that the process works, in part, that way. If it is learned,
the Church may then offer to thinking men considerable a priori
flexibility within
which new discoveries may be accommodated. No longer need it appear
to be in continual
and reluctant reaction. Had the church exhibited theological and
exegetical room
for the scientist and philosopher to move in the past, the ranks of both camps
might contain rather more members with respect for Biblical authority than is
the ease.
Of course, it may be remarked that many Biblical interpreters and many Church
bodies permit room for most, if not all, philosophies and
interpretations of scientific
ideas. Clearly this overly-broad accommodation can he only because of a lower
view of the authority of Scripture than is warranted by the evidence. It is the
consequence of critical studies based upon certain philosophies about science
and certain construals of scientific theories which deny a supernatural view of
the world and result in a debased view of inspiration. It is not the product of
scientific theories, at least well-founded ones, but of fundamentally humanistic
and naturalistic predispositions. Nor is it the necessary consequence
of the process
espoused above. There we speak of recognizing the intent of Scripture
in its own
terms and of a Biblical theology prepared to deal with matters which scientific
evidences may well soon place before us.
It brings us though to a second point Scientific theories, while still highly
tentative, are often accepted or rejected by many upon matters such
as prejudices
for or against past ideas, one's world-view, esthetic tastes, or
trepidation about
or wishful ambitions for their moral or philosophical consequences.
Indeed, these
matters play a part in developing the theories in the first place. These
factors
are as unavoidable as they are subjective. Certainly the Church has
no obligation
toward such theories except to foster the freedoms necessary to test them out
carefully, and if it firm
ly believes that natural and special revelation cannot
fail to be in harmony, to expect no irremediable difficulties in synthesis. It
does, though, have obligations to determine its stance toward the
practical applications
of theories operative at any time or likely to be put into effect in
the foreseeable
future. Biology and biochemistry afford current instances of this
necessity. The
questions are ones of individual and social morality and on these the
Church must
speak. If it does, coherently and intelligently, it has the
opportunity to recover
an influence lost by its past failings in this respect.
This brings us to the last opportunity to be mentioned here: the
chance to support
the development of Christian philosophies of man, the world, and
action. The Scriptures
and scientific knowledge leave extensive room for speculation about the nature
of creation and providence or the meanings of history; for
interpreting the arts,
literature, or science; and for constructing political,
psychological, or social
models. We mention but examples. In a world filled with philosophies based upon
humanistic premises, the Church has offered too little in the way of
systems built
upon theistic and Biblical premises or, when it has, they have paid inadequate
attention to current knowledge and situations. True, the church has
seen its philosophers
in open disagreement in the past and it has observed disturbing
implications being
drawn from positions which it thought were sound. Perhaps this is one
reason why
it has failed to offer the sort of support it should to new ventures and why it
has too often satisfied itself with traditional and simplistic
treatments of the
many matters attracting concern and interest in the society around it
and in its
own communion. They are insufficient reasons; men are fallible and
their schemes
imperfect, tensions must exist when theological emphases and the matters which
interest thinkers differ, but problems and opportunities must still be faced.
Only one illustration is offered.
We live in an age in which science and its offspring technology have revised,
in a way few foresaw a quarter century ago, the conditions of our lives. It is
apparent that our ability to master the forces of nature around us is immense
and increasing. It is clear that we have in our hands the awesome
power to create,
with rapidity and in profusion, new and little-understood social possibilities.
But science and technology have also altered the manner in which we
look at ourselves
and they have destroyed some of our values while creating others.
Here lies their
potential for both good and evil, for the process continues.
Yet, in the face of this, the choices to be made among
the many alternatives offered is becoming increasingly
complex. Surely the Church must give guidance here, examining with
knowledgeable
persons the purposes and effects and values of the options chosen, criticizing
continually, and presenting constructive advice for the future. In the past the
institution appeared relevant to man in a context where he knew much less than
he does now and held a much diminished mastery over the forbidding
forces of nature.
Its relevance to the future must he to men who know their powers and appreciate
the possibilities within their grasp. Were Galileo with us he could
state no greater
challenge; he uttered it three and a half centuries ago and some listened and
some did not. Conditions then made their deafness serious. Failure to
hear today
is unthinkable.
REFERENCES
17Diaologues Concerning Two New Sciences, New York,
n.d,.
18"The Numerological Approach to Cosmic Order in the English
Renaissance", Isis, December 1958, pp. 391-397 by C.A. Patrides is of interest here.
The importance
of the
number seven seemed more suited to a geocentric cosmos with seven
bodies circling
it than to a Sun orbited by 6 satellites. Including the central body,
on the other
hand, could have made the heliocentric view more suitable than its alternative.
Numerology is clearly highly selective in its evidence and subject to endless
adjustment to fit any predilection.
19See Leibniz-Glorke Correspondence, H.G. Alexander (ad.) Manchester, 1965 and
A History of Philosophy (Volumes on Hobbes to Palcy, Berkeley to
Home, Descartes
to Leihniz, and Hume). F. Coplcston, Garden City, N.Y., 1963 and 1964.
20Convenicntly ignoring the degree to which its own cosmology had accepted much
of Aristotle and observational evidences which eliminated things like the flat
earth, the tabernacle-shaped world, and the sub-lunar firmanent of
earlier traditions.
21The Scientific Revolution, V. L. Bullnugh (ed.) New York, 1970;
The Scientific
Revolution of the Seventeenth Century, R. Briggs, New York, 1969; The
Elizabethan
World Picture, EM. Tillyard, London, 1958. Then see Science and
Imagination, M.
Nicholson, Ithaca, 1966; The Breaking of the Circle, M. Nicholson,
New York, 1960;
Atomism in England from Hariot to Newton, R.H. Kargnn, Oxford, 1966;
All Coherence Gone, V.1. Harris, Chicago, 1949; Seventeenth Century Science and the
Arts, H.H.
Rhys (ad,), Princeton, 1961; and Science end Religion in Seventeenth
Century England, R.S. Westfall, New Haven, 1958. All deal only with the beginnings of
the process.
22Oddly enough the Spanish Inquisition was less concerned. See The
Spanish Inquisition,
H. Kamen, New York, 1965, pp. 101-2, 293-296. Compare also
"Scepticism, Theology,
and the Scientific Revolution in the Seventeenth Century" R.
Popkin in Problems
in the Philosophy of Science, I. Lakatos and A. Mnsgrave (ads.)
Amsterdam, 1968,
pp. 1-39.
23A flawed translation by G. McColley is available in the Smith College Studies
in History for 1936-1937. It is criticized in part by Rosen (sea Note 14).