We have all experienced, in one form or another, the beauty and awe of the natural world around us. Whether it be standing amongst a field of wildflowers, gazing down from atop a mountain, or pausing to listen to the songs of birds along a wooded path, there is something inspiring, therapeutic, and indescribable about nature. Yet, is there a reason for our love of nature? Why, as Karl Giberson asks in his book Saving Darwin, do we find brightly colored cars on asphalt to be unattractive, yet brightly colored flowers in a green meadow to be beautiful? Scientist E.O. Wilson has described this love of nature as biophilia and has looked for evolutionary explanations of the phenomenon. But how far will such studies go?
From a scientific approach, this awe of nature can seem confusing and may prove difficult to explain. But just because we cannot easily explain it now does not mean that a good scientific explanation will not come forward in the future. If such a day does come, we will need to remember how to distinguish between an explanation of how we developed this sense of awe with the question of why we developed it, or of whom we have to thank for it. Quoting an example from Sir Arthur Eddington, Giberson compares science to a fisherman’s net that can catch larger fish but not smaller ones. Just because the net cannot catch a certain fish does not mean it does not exist. Yes, science is an effective source of knowledge, but it is not the only one, and it does not offer an answer to every type of question.
Conversely, however, the beauty of nature does not necessarily mean that everything we see is the direct handiwork of God, at least not in the conventional idea of a designer crafting by hand everything we see. As Giberson noted in his post earlier this week, there are too many examples of waste, cruelty, and bad design in the natural world to fit into the standard creationist scenario. Yet, we can still see God in the grandeur of the world around us. God may not have been the chief engineer of all that we see in nature — both good and bad — yet his indelible signature can be found in its marvelous creativity and aesthetic depth.
posted October 1, 2009 at 7:21 pm
Why on earth would anyone want to scientifically explain the awe of nature? To what purpose except to reduce man to biochemistry and the imagined motives of evolution?
posted October 2, 2009 at 3:48 pm
It’s not reducing man to biochemistry. What if we are just biochemistry? The fact of the matter is we don’t know. We are trying to figure it out. Just because we’d prefer a certain outcome doesn’t mean it’s right. That’s the whole purpose of trying to figure it out. Ignorance is not bliss. Knowledge is bliss. So it’s not reducing man to biochemistry, it’s proving or disproving the notion that all man is is biochemistry.
posted October 3, 2009 at 2:22 am
Searching for “evolutionary explanations” of the awe of nature is not an example of proving or disproving anything. It’s an example of science over-reaching to the detriment of the human psyche.
Writing about the role of science in the public’s perception of the primacy of matter, Jacques Barzun states that “Unfortunately, faith in science and the exclusive worship of facts had gone even further. It had destroyed the rival faith in the intangible.”
If the love of nature isn’t an intangible, I don’t know what is.
posted October 3, 2009 at 7:55 am
Does my failure to know why I am predisposed to find something aesthetically appealing detract from the experience of being aesthetically moved? No.
In a similar vein, for art, literature, or religious narrative to have meaning does not require that it be scientifically “real”. Yes, there are biases which whether they are epiphenomenal or not, are based on a physical (evolutionary) history. The physical substrate is the basis, the visible ground of being. It traces its way back to a common point, (if some variant on the Big Bang is correct.)
What I am attempting to do is draw a distinction between something having aesthetic and meaning, and the requirement that it map directly to a scientific understanding. We are able to use the scientific method, of uncovering more information about the processes which work in nature to bring about complex interconnected systems, and to not lose meaning related to non-scientific narratives. For example, my ability to derive meaning from “The Lord of the Rings”, does not require me to abandon what I have learned about the universe scientifically. We are easily able to experience meaning through a narrative without it expressing a reality that is physically possible. Meaning is not diminished, and in fact this wonderful ability means that there is a tremendous freedom to find meaning in a large variety of forms, narratives and religious traditions.
The problem, (and it is a problem); is that some feel that their particular religious narrative must take precedence over physical history and science. It is as if someone read “Lord of the Rings”, and vested the text with a need to be non-fiction to retain its meaning. My own sense is that when people experience powerful epiphanies there is a strong desire to bind those experiences to an encompassing narrative, and to project the narrative onto the universe. When the projection of the narrative becomes of supreme importance to a person or group, there is a tremendous effort to defend that projection, as though the fact that Frodo and Bilbo never existed will destroy or undermine the meaning of the narrative, and the value of such epiphanies the reader experienced while reading “Lord of the Rings”.
Freedom occurs where my cherished narratives are not projected. This enables their meaning to be non-contingent, and it does not undermine numinous experience associated with them. It grants me the ability to experience meaning through a variety of diverse forms without conflict. And that is a remarkable thing, to not ever have to justify or feel that meaning is contingent, and to be free to acquire knowledge of the universe without fear.
posted October 3, 2009 at 8:14 pm
The problem is also that some feel that their particular scientific, physical narrative must take precedence over metaphysical or theological understanding.
I go back to my original question: to what purpose do we attempt to explain wonder or awe scientifically? Sometimes the question reveals the motive.
posted October 3, 2009 at 10:24 pm
Rob said,
I would say it’s probably out of scientific curiosity, and an attempt to understand ourselves better. Only someone very insecure in his/her faith would find this threatening.
Also, I found this post to be quite timely, coinciding as it did with the PBS series last week on our beautiful national parks.