Science in Christian Perspective
Galileo and the Church: Tensions
with a Message for Today Part I
T. H. LEITH
Atkinson College York University Toronto, Ontario, Canada
From: JASA 25 (March 1973): 21-24.
The year of 1973 has been designated Copernican Year in
honor of the 500th anniversary of the birth of Copernicus M 1473. In
keeping with
this commemoration, the journal ASA offers o four-port publication of a paper
presented by T. H. Leith at the 1972 Convention of the American
Scientific Affiliation
at York University.
Introduction
The Copernican revolution began in the first decade of the Sixteenth century in
an unpublished manuscript, entitled the Commentary, by a rather
obscure household
physician in a bishop's palace in northern Europe. Some thirty years later the
seeds of its heliocentric reformation of astronomy were to find a
stony reception
in the minds of two other reformers: Luther called its author a fool1
and Melanchthon
was prodded by it to remark that "wise governments ought to
repress the impudence
of the intellectuals ".2 In 1543 there appeared in print Copernicus' full
defence of his unsettling scheme, the Revolutions of the Heavenly
Spheres.
Seventy-three
years thereafter the Congregation of the Index in Rome was to find
its doctrines
of the centrality and immobility of the Sun philosophically absurd and formally
heretical, its thesis that the Earth exhibited a daily and annual
motion incorrect
in philosophy and erroneous in theology. Another seventeen years brings us to
the condemnation of Galileo, guilty said the Holy Office of holding
and defending
these evidently false and
scriptural beliefs in his Dialogues on the Two Great
World Systems, which resulted in the banning of his great book and his spending
the remaining years of his life in house arrest.
This century and a quarter, as sketched, suggests a rather unfavorable future
for the relationship of the church, Protestant or Roman, to the new astronomy.
The origins of the evident tensions and their context in the second half of the
Sixteenth and the first half of the Seventeenth Centuries require
some examination,
for neither the Copernicans nor the churchmen of the time could see
any necessity
for the conflict. Each was convinced that it recognized clearly the
proper means
to a reconciliation. It was the failure to achieve their ambitious, the methods
each recommended being so
different and unpalatable to the other, which resulted in the impasse and left
the horizons so clouded. So much would have been evident to anyone
observing events
that historic day in June of 1633 when Galileo was sentenced before
the Congregation
of the Holy Office in the convent of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. With
the benefit
of nearly three hundred and fifty years of perspective we cannot,
however, avoid
assessing that appraisal. Astronomy was to move in directions as unforeseen by
either churchman or Copernican as they were recalcitrant to the
techniques prescribed
by each camp for harmonizing their mutual concerns. Certainly new principles of
accommodation have been offered over the long interval, often
fostered by developments
in other sciences as each has undergone its revolutionary modern changes. About
these ton we shall make comment.
The Instrumentalist View of Astronomy
Our account must begin with some remarks on the traditions within
which Copernican
astronomy was to appear so revolutionary. One of these, the assumption that the
astronomer's task was to employ whatever mathematical devices
afforded a convenient
description of the observed behavior of the heavens and reasonable predictions
of future events, without any considerable regard for their correspondence to
the actual state of affairs obtaining, was of long standing. It is apparent in
the astronomy of the Seleucid period in Mesopotamia, which followed
the conquests
of Alexander, when the positions of the Sun, the Moon, and the
planets at various
occasions useful for astrological or calendar purposes were
calculated using techniques
which involved in essence the plotting of these bodies as points of
light moving
across the stars as across a graph paper. Nowhere do we find any
indication that
their motion in 3 dimensions was considered, any suggestion of a guiding model
of their movements in space.3
Even earlier at the beginning of the Fourth Century B.C., the Greek philosopher
Plato had developed a model of the universe by means of which he
intended to illustrate
the planning and design of the world but which he took to be no more
than suggestive
of how nature might have achieved whatever order observation
revealed. Beyond such convenient myth he would not go, for he took the senses
to he incapable of revealing the truth about affairs on the Earth as
in the skies.4
Examining his scheme and developing one of its ideas, a younger contemporary,
Eudoxus, described the motions of each heavenly body as the resultant of clever
combinations of eternal and uniform movements in circles centered
upon the Earth.
In the next few decades, Callippus offered further refinements.
Though these schemes
introduce 3-dimensional geometrical models into astronomy, which is missing in
Seleucid studies, the models are akin to these studies in spirit: apparently no
attempt was made to argue that the set of inter-connected circular
motions combining
to move any given planet or the Sun or the Moon were real, nor was
any explanation
sought as to why each member of a set should have the particular
angular velocity,
sense, and axis of rotation suited to it. The models remained no more
than useful
fictions convenient in aiding our imagination as we predict the paths
of the heavenly
bodies across the stars.
Of course it was a remarkable feat to show that the complex motions
of the heavens
were apparently
solvable into components all of which are alike in being uniform, circular, and
concentric. If the fit were inexact all that was necessary was to
adjust the relative
tilts of the imaginary axes of rotation, to revise the rates of
rotation properly,
or perhaps to add a further circular motion to the set, The ideal of explaining
all heavenly motions as the result of uniform circular motions around the Earth
could be maintained to indefinite precision. However, the technique
was intended
only to predict properly the paths, speeds, and directions of the
heavenly bodies
against the starry background. It could not predict the changing size
of the Moon
as it appears to a careful observer nor the great variations in brightness so
noticeable on observing the planets. All require a scheme providing
for changing
the distances of these bodies from the Earth.
That need was fulfilled in the epicychc astronomy introduced by Heracleides of
Pontus in the time of Callippus and developed further by Apollonius
in Alexandria
during the second half of the third Century B.C., by Hipparchus at
Rhodes a century
later, and by Ptolemy again at Alexandria, in the Second Century AD. Like the
geocentric models, the movements of the heavenly bodies were interpreted as the
product of combinations of uniform and endless circular motions
except that here
each body would be taken to move on a circle whose center itself
moved at a different
angular rate on another circle of different size, the center of which in turn
might itself be circling the Earth. The Earth was now central only to
the imagined
shell of the stars5.
As with the geocentric schemes, epicyclic devices were capable of
indefinite refinement
to fit improved observational data and, as with those schemes,
epicyclic astronomy
saw itself as inventing its devices merely as convenient predictive fictions.
Ptolemy took this to be a necessary evil, informing generations of
his followers
that the complexities of observed heavenly motion seem to defy the ability of
philosophers of nature to fathom them. Their causes and their true
nature, therefore,
remain matters of speculation and controversy. His assessment of the limits of
astronomy was still widely accepted by workers in the field in the
days of Copernicus
fourteen centuries later and for many years
thereafter. It provided a major challenge to Copernican astronomers from their
own colleagues.
Aristotelian Cosmology
Difficulties for the heliocentric scheme arose also from a source of
equal antiquity,
the philosophy of Aristotle. His great mind had, in the mid-Fourth
Century B.C.,
introduced a magnificent and systematic natural philosophy which
still attracted
many as late as the Seventeenth Century of our era. We cannot attempt
to outline
it here but various aspects require some mention.
In the heavens, Aristotle employed the devices of Eudoxus and
Callippus to interpret
motions of the stars, the Sun, the Moon, and the planets with one
major revision:
these motions were now taken to arise from the combined effect of
physically-real
but invisible shells moving endlessly at their own angular rates and directions
about the Earth. Connected ultimately to the starry sphere revolving
rapidly around
us once each day, the shells carrying these bodies therefore exhibited both the
effects of that daily revolution and the influence of the four or five shells
which gave to each its particular drifting path across the stars. From the Moon
outward, our cosmos became a vast mechanism eternally carrying the
heavenly bodies
in their cycles about the Earth.
All of this Aristotle saw as quite rational. Only a spherical world
could revolve
in its own space and exhibit simple symmetry: the former was
necessitated by what
he took to be the impossibility of a void and the latter by the
requirement that
the influence of stellar motion must bear equally upon the bodies
within the starry
sphere in all directions. Only a finite universe could revolve within
the finite
period of 24 hours, infinite speeds being impossible. Only a
mechanism involving
a nest of transparent shells could move the heavenly bodies, give
them their cyclic
sidereal periods and explain how these periods increased as the bodies lay at
greater distances from the starry shell, itself moved by the Unmoved Mover, and
the source of motion elsewhere in the heavens.
The centrality of the Earth seemed equally necessary. Beneath the
Moon, the natural
motions of the elements were quite different from the eternal movements of the
heavenly and transparent ether. They were linear and had a beginning and end:
earth and water naturally move toward the center of the cosmos, and
air and fire
naturally rise toward the shell carrying the Moon. The natural place of earth
is as close to the center as possible and above it should lie the
successive shells
of water, air, and fire. Observation appeared to confirm this except
that various
forces prevent the separation being perfect: the Earth he knew to be spherical
and it did seem to be equidistant from the stars in all directions, water and
air do lie successively above it, and the presence of fire was indicated when
extraneous matter entered its realm and burned as in the ease of the aurorae,
meteors, and comets.
To Aristotle the motion of the Earth seemed quite irrational. Were it
to be translated
through the sub-lunar region some force in contact with it would be necessary
and he could find no basis for accepting its presence. Were it to
rotate, an equally
gratuitous force would be required for rotational motion is not natural to it,
and Aristotle's physics of motion required that all movement in any
event he caused
by some internal or external force. Even a falling stone is moved by
its potential
to become more earthlike being actualized as it passes
toward its natural place in the scheme of things. Clearly he had no concept of
inertial movement, of gravity, or of angular momentum.
So coherently did his arguments on these and other matters appear to
fit together
and to arise from premises which seemed intuitively evident to the
mind that his
cosmological scheme was destined to find many adherents6. One weakness at
least is, however, apparent: Aristotle's model of the cosmos cannot explain the
apparent variations in distance of the heavenly bodies from the Earth. It was
revised to provide for this. In the Second Century, Theon of Smyrna suggested
that these bodies he immersed eccentrically within transparent
hall-bearings each
rolling between concentric shells, a scheme which at once gave
physical intelligibility
to the epicycles which we have mentioned and carried any body to
varied distances
from us. A later variant moved the planets themselves along tracks
between shells
eccentric to the Earth. And, as late as the 1530's, Girolamo
Fracastoro in a book
dedicated to the same Pope as was Copernicus' Revolutions, introduced a shell
of variable density between us and the Moon. This he not only
utilized to explain
the variable brightness of the planets and the apparent changing size
of the Moon
as seen in solar eclipses but to preserve the pristine simplicity of
the Aristotlian
heavens.
Neither the Copernicans nor the churchmen of the time could see any necessity
for the conflict.
These sorts of endeavors might have been of only casual interest to
most members
of the small astronomical fraternity by the mid-Sixteenth Century, intent upon
their predictive Ptolemaic devices rather than on speculations about
the physical
nature of heavenly motions, but matters were rather different among
certain groups
of philosophers and theologians. For these it was more important that
Thomas Aquinas
in the Thirteenth Century had brought Aristotelian philosophy and its attendant
cosmological system, by various adjustments, into seeming accord with
the generally
accepted tenets of the Christian faith.7 Aristotle's teachings therefore played
their part in forming a full-orbed Christian philosophy inclusive of
both science
and philosophy. If the Copernicans had to provide a serious critique
of Aristotelian
astronomy and its physical bases they also had to meet the challenge, flung at
it by those who followed Aquinas, of indicating just how the novel heliocentric
scheme might be reconciled to the teachings of Scripture in the face of their
own synthesis involving a very different system.
Scientific Scepticism
A third difficulty facing Copernicus and his followers deserves comment at this
time. It arises in the context of the relationship of faith and
reason. For Aquinas,
faith had been the necessary approach to Biblical teaching, while reason
provided
both the necessary route to understanding those matters on which the Bible was
silent and a means to sustaining the credibility of revelation. With
reason came
a coherent pulling together of our experiences with nature; in this Aristotle
was to prove of considerable value. However, Aquinas' analysis was called into
question by the debates of the
Fourteenth Century.
One of the seminal minds of that period, Duns Scotus, carried the
conclusion that
propositions regarding the purposes and nature of God, the immortality of the
soul, and similar doctrines were matters of faith to the point that
faith became
an act of will rather than intellect. We accept, then, revelation because it is
prescribed by God and not because it is rational. In turn, this
implied that the
will of God was not constrained by the implication that His decisions must be
reasonable. Rather, they are reasonable because they are willed in accordance
with his nature.
To William of Ockham that implied further important ideas. If God's will, and
nothing else, determines the character of the world among other things, it will
then he impossible for us to use reason to lead ourselves hack to the nature of
God or to His purposes. Reason ceases to support our faith and the
goal of uniting
philosophy and theology has proven to be a chimera. Further, Ockham
believed that
only particular things exist and only propositions about these deal
with reality.
The attributes which one finds in common among the objects and
happenings of the
world are merely one's concepts and have no claim to reality; they
are abstractions
and they lie wholly in the mind. The statements, then, which are
found in science
about these abstractions deal only with names which one has given to them and
not with reality directly. The same problem faces the temporal
sequence of events
which are found in nature. When science discusses the causes of these
sequences,
which are not directly observed, it is reduced to guessing at the relationships
which obtain. Many hypotheses may he offered, none of which can with certainty
be said to be true. Our views of the world not only fail to sustain our faith
but they are thoroughly fallible.
Ockham's teachings were prohibited in certain quarters such as the University
of Paris, but at the new universities in Prague, Vienna, Heidelberg,
and Cologne
they were widely followed and carried influence far beyond their
doors. The results
were not entirely salutary for the advancement of science. Often
there was a loss
of interest in careful observation when it was concluded that the hypotheses to
be derived were merely speculative. Again, it turned the attention of many to
imaginary situations, such as motion in a vacuum was taken to be,
which revealed
only how God might have done things had He wished or to the sort of
purely abstract
studies such as those found at the Universities of Oxford and Paris
in kinematics.
The latter tendencies were reininforced by the Paris condemnations of 1277 of
numerous theses suggesting that God could not have created a world or indeed a
plurality of worlds, different from our own.
Jean Buridan, in the first half of the Fourteenth Century, lived under both the
impact of these condenmations and the teachings of his contemporary Ockham. His
writings reveal the speculative atmosphere occasioned by the former
and the continual
tentativeness demanded by the latter. For example, the question of whether the
Earth or the heavens turned daily he left quite open: different
theories may always
he employed to explain what is observed. Likewise, around 1380, Nicole Oresme
may be found arguing that science must remain incapable of deciding
upon the motion
of the Earth and that only Scriptural revelation can settle the matter.
No speculations of the years shortly before Copernicus are as startling though
as those of Nicolas of Cusa, a scholar and church official who died
within a decade
of Copernicus' birth. In a work dealing with the limits of human knowledge and
in a later note, Nicolas points out a variety of difficulties in conceiving the
world in traditional and supposedly rational terms. There was the impossibility
of understanding the conception of a finite and bounded spherical
universe. Given
the realization that the universe must be taken to be indeterminate in size, he
asked what sense there was then in talking about the Earth as if it lay in the
middle. Again, he suggested that when motion is perceived it requires that some
reference be treated as if it were at rest; but no reference can be
chosen, except
abitrarily as tradition had done because we inhabit the Earth, as
being absolutely
at rest. Thus he concluded that both the heavens and the Earth were in motion
in some manner which gave the appearance of a single revolution of
the stars counter-clockwise
about the Earth's axis of rotation, as we look north, every day.
In the end, Nicolas was to conclude that even the world-view of every thinker
is determined by his place in time and space. Because none of these
is privileged,
he reasoned that it was completely impossible to arrive at a true
picture of our
world. On that thoroughly sceptical note, epitomizing the extremest form of
Ockhamism, he culminates the tentativist trend of
numerous thinkers in the pre-Copernican world. It was this sort of
attitude which
Copernicus had to face for he was equally convinced of the truth of
his ideas.8
(To be continued)
FOOTNOTES
1`
D. Martin Luthers Werke, Weimar edition, Tisebreden, I, p. 419. The
comment appears
in s Table Talk where the possibility always exists of a reporter
misunderstanding
Luther or quoting him out of context.
2Corpus reformation, IV, p. 679. For background read W. Elert, The Structure
of Lutheranism, St. Louis, 1962ff.
3The Exact Sciences in Antiquity, 0. Neugebsuer, New York, 1962 provides a fine
summary.
4See Plato's Cosmology, F, SI. Coroford, London, 1937.
5Surveys of geocentric and epicyelie astronomy are available in A
History of Astronomy
from Thales to Kepler, J.L.E. Dreyer, New York, 1953 and The Physical World of
the Greeks, S. Sambursky, New York, 1962.
6Details are provided in The Philosophy of Aristotle, D. J. Allan.
Oxford, 1970;
Aristotle's Cosmology. L. Elders,
Assen, The Netherlands, 1965; The Physical Philosophy of Aristotle,
M. G. Evans,
Albuquerque, 1964; Aristotle, The Growth and Structure of His
Thought, C. E. 11.
Lloyd, Cambridge, England, 1968; and Aristotle's System of the Physical World,
F. Solmsen, Ithaca, 1960.
7See Aquinas, F. C. Copleston, Hannondsworth, England, 1955.
8The
medieval period
is surveyed in Augustine to Galileo, A. C. Crombie, Harmondsworth,
England, 1969
and Medieval Thought, C. Leff, Ilarmondsworth, England, 1958.