Chapter 1 – Science Gets the Blame
Plato (l) and Aristotle (r). The School of Athens (Raphael) (credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Science
gets the blame—or the credit, depending on your point of view—for having eroded
the base out from under the moral systems that our ancestors lived by and
depended on. For the most part, it fully deserves this blame. Prior to the
scientific revolution, people were pretty miserable in terms of their physical
lives. Life was hard for nearly all folk and death came soon. Famines, plagues,
and war swept the land. Infant mortality rates are estimated to have been between
30 and 50 percent 1, and life expectancy was under forty years.2
But
people knew where they stood in society, and they knew where they stood—or at
least should be trying to stand—in moral terms, in their relationships with
other people, from the bottom of society to the top. Kings had their duties
just as noblemen, serfs, and craftsmen did, and all of their wives did, and
sins had consequences. God was in his heaven; he enforced his rules—harshly but
fairly, even if humans couldn’t always see his logic and even if his justice
sometimes took generations to arrive. People knew “what goes around comes
around.” For most folk, all was right with the world.
Francis Bacon (Vanderbank) (credit: Wikimedia Commons)
The
scientific revolution essentially began from a new method for studying the
physical world, a method proposed most articulately by the English Renaissance philosopher,
Francis Bacon. For centuries before the Renaissance, most people who studied
the material world had followed the models of reality that had been laid down
in the texts of the ancient Greeks, or even better, in the Bible. Works by
Aristotle, in particular, described how the natural world worked in almost
every one of its aspects, from atomic theory to biology to cosmology.
On
most matters, the Greeks were seen as having merely described in more detail
what had been created in the first place by God, as the Bible plainly showed.
In most fields, original thought was not resented or despised. It was simply
absent. Thus, for over a thousand years, our forbearers believed the classic
Greek works and the Bible, when taken together, contained every kind of wisdom
(from ancient Roman times to the Renaissance) that human beings could want to
know. A true gentleman’s life duty was to pass on to his sons, intact, the
beliefs, morés, and values of his ancestors.
Thomas Aquinas (credit: Wikipedia)
Was
there any danger that the ancient Greek texts and the Bible might
irreconcilably contradict each other? No. Several experts, including Thomas Aquinas,
had shown that these two sources were compatible with each other. Even if
inconsistencies were found, of course, the divine authority of the Bible
resolved them. For the folk of the West, for centuries, the Bible was the word
of God. Period. It had to be obeyed.
In
every field, if you wanted to learn about a subject, you consulted the
authorities—your priest or the teachers who taught the wisdom of the sages of
old. But for most folk, deeply analyzing events in their own lives or analyzing
things the authorities told them wasn’t so much worrying as inconceivable. Over
90 percent of the people were illiterate. They took on faith what the
authorities told them because everyone they knew had always done so. A mind
capable of memorization and imitation was valued; a questioning, innovative one
was not.
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