I find myself frequently saying to myself… “Now there’s another argument against Evolution.” I’m speaking of Evolution as a worldview, and random chance processes and materialistic philosophy as a possible source for the existing universe. I think to myself, “Why should anything be aesthetically pleasing? Why would a sunset be pleasing to the human eye?”
Materialistic Evolution cannot account for a sense of visual pleasure and warm fuzzy feelings when viewing a marvelous sunset. Last week I flew home from Nashville to Cleveland and had an opportunity to see a sunset from above the clouds. Just another argument against Evolution.
Regarding “Beauty – Another Argument Against Evolution”, I’ve often thought the same thing. I think Chesterton (perhaps in “Orthodoxy”) makes a similar point with respect to explaining the existence of pleasure. Interestingly, I think in almost the same “language” as you, in wondering what explains the aesthetic beauty and inner “movement” one experiences when seeing a sunset, or hearing certain chord progressions. I love mountains, adore them. But if I am presented with a chunk of rock, a quantity of snow, and some shards of ice, I can recognize their qualities and properties and perhaps even appreciate the texture or pattern of the stone, the translucence of the ice, or the compression of the snow in my fist. But why, when those same objects are arranged on a larger scale, at varying angles, with alternating forms of steep and flowing, do I feel something…something moving? Why do I feel compelled to stare and grin? I’ve often said that experiences like that are why I’m not a materialist.
I explained it to a friend once by talking about the myriad sounds that surround us. Our inner ears simply process air vibrations caused by moving objects, vibrations of varying frequency and amplitude. I can hear the beep of a reversing truck, the crunch of balled paper, the squeak on a nearly-dry dish. But why is the experience of sound so different when I hear a 7th chord resolve to a major? The evolutionary point can be presented this way: why would we evolve a preference (as all imputations of value must be in a materialistic worldview) for a chord strummed on a properly tuned guitar over an improperly tuned guitar? And more basically, why do we regard one tuning as proper? What acoustic standard are we unconsciously aiming for?
Hey Neil! So glad you posted. Maybe we can generate some solid dialogue. I have not read Chesterton on the idea of pleasure that you mentioned, but have expressed the same idea to my wife. I am usually saying, “Why should food taste good?” or some such remark.
My mind and heart are in awe when going either to the extreme grand scale or the extreme miniature scale. While I cannot see with my eyes the tiny living cells or atoms that make up “stuff,” I am nonetheless dumbstruck at the intricate, complex nature of it. A process as mundane as photosynthesis comes to mind. I cannot see it, but it is amazing, and when I watch one of those nature shows about the incredibly small, I am moved like you said, “compelled to stare and grin.”
There must be something OBjective, though, about these things, which causes in us the SUBjective experience, if you ask me. The answer to the question “Why are these things like this?” seems to me much more difficult to answer objectively if you ARE a materialist. Why music played “correctly” can be pleasing, versus poorly pitched instruments clanging out some rubbish, fits well within my world-view, while a materialist must provide a random (from my perspective) solution for the mystery.
I would simply say that Someone made things that way. Someone thought about it and put it in order, and brought us along to discover, appreciate, enjoy, and replicate that order. That Someone, in my world-view, is God.
Following the words of the mystic, we people “think God’s thoughts after him.” My mind does not contain the capacity to express with exact certainty the meaning of every ancient sacred text, but something in me knows there are reasons that is true.
Let’s keep talking…
You make a good observation regarding the macro- and micro- arenas. I’m thinking out loud here…it’s interesting that at the macro-level (i.e. the universe), we observe many, many objects (e.g. starts, planets, galaxies, nebulae, asteroids, etc.), yet despite the quantity, those objects are basically discrete. They interact, of course, but the objects involved are spatially separated. A star will heat various nearby gases producing nubulae of numerous hues, moons will remain in orbit due to the proper ratio of size and distance, for instance. But at the macro-level, I find the natural laws closer to the foreground. What I mean is that the interaction of celestial bodies is actually fairly limited, but nevertheless ordered. There is a surprising tranquility to be found in the movement of objects both immensely large and hot. Initially, there may seem little to notice. The interaction we observe is slow and inconspicuous, yet the laws governing those interactions are so elegant. On the one hand, there seems to be little going on, but perhaps we have that perception because the whole is structured so well – and this is a testament to the laws under which they operate.
Yet on the micro-level, I find the opposite. What I notice most is not the chemical laws in action (which are doubtless present and mind-boggling), but rather the stunning scale, where the discreteness of each part is nearly lost in the complexity of the whole. So when I look at the sky, I notice discrete objects moving under elegant laws. And when I see a cell, I am almost blinded to the laws by the integration of the myriad parts.
You raise an interesting point when you write “There must be something OBjective, though, about these things, which causes in us the SUBjective experience.” Theoretically, we could have the subjective experience without an objective source, but this creates it own problem: why do I sometimes experience A and sometimes experience B? If the objective world is strictly material, then I think we are left with only one “answer”: there are chemical reactions within us that cause these various feelings, but we do know these reactions. Under that theory, however, I cannot see how the question would even matter, unless we posit some level of self-reflexivity. But then, that self-reflexivity would only be the fruit of yet another chemical reaction. The experience would be without content. I suspect we’re rummaging in the hedges of “consciousness”, and I cannot see how materialism can ground that. Perhaps the issue boils down to this: our inner experiences are either prompted by something in the objective, physical world or not. If not, then I think one hits the aforementioned wall, since “pondering the experience” is an incoherent concept under that theory (i.e. ascribing sentience to matter). But if the experience is prompted by something in the objective world, then we can pursue the source. I don’t know what the evolutionary position is with respect to perceptions of beauty. Why is the tulip pretty and the dirt in which it’s planted not? If our current state is determined by random mutation and natural selection acting on favorable mutations, what survival role does finding certain parts of our surrounding environment beautiful have? My inability to think of a reason does not, of course, mean that one does not exist. But…I’m puzzled. Would it be simply a bonus? A happy accident? Debates over genetics and paleontology will likely persist, but I think materialism is (perhaps fatally) flawed when it comes to human experience and aesthetics.
Since we’re quoting people from the past, I think someone one said that God often seems unnecessary because his design operates so well.
Lots of thoughts, I’ll tackle at least one for now: You wrote…
“If the objective world is strictly material, then I think we are left with only one “answer”: there are chemical reactions within us that cause these various feelings, but we do know these reactions. Under that theory, however, I cannot see how the question would even matter, unless we posit some level of self-reflexivity. But then, that self-reflexivity would only be the fruit of yet another chemical reaction. The experience would be without content.”
Just after that you mentioned consciousness, which was exactly my thought. If we are merely a collection of reflexes (Hume comes to mind here), then where is self-awareness? We wouldn’t really be self-aware at all, and the universe would lose meaning in the face of fatalistic determinism.
You hit that when you said:
“But if the experience is prompted by something in the objective world, then we can pursue the source. I don’t know what the evolutionary position is with respect to perceptions of beauty. Why is the tulip pretty and the dirt in which it’s planted not?”
We could carry the tulip idea even further and say that the dirt, though less beautiful, is in many ways more important than the tulip… before I get away from this reply I’m going to post it, so the page doesn’t refresh and I lose it!
– Chad