The Freedom of Science

What It Is

In the year 1901 a case, insignificant in itself, caused great excitement in and even beyond the scientific world. What had happened? At the University of Strassburg, in a territory for the most part Catholic, no less than one-third of the students were Catholic, yet of the seventy-two professors sixty-one were Protestant, six Israelites and but four Catholics (according to the report of the Secretary of State, Koeller, in the 115th session of the Reichstag, January 11, 1901). The government resolved, in view of the state of affairs, to give more consideration, when appointing professors, to the Catholic members of the university. Even the non-Catholic members of the Bundesrat desired it. A vacancy occurring in the faculty of history, the government, besides appointing the Protestant professor proposed by the faculty of philosophy, decided to create a new chair to be filled by a Catholic.

The appointment of a Catholic professor of history was regarded as seriously endangering science. The storm broke. The venerable historian, Th. Mommsen, who had been a champion of liberty in the revolution of 1848, promptly gave the alarm. In the Munich “Neueste Nachrichten” there appeared over his signature an article that created a general sensation. “German university circles,” he said, in his solemn protest, “are pervaded by a feeling of degradation. Our vital nerve is unprejudiced research; research that does not find what it seeks and expects to find, owing to purposes, considerations, and restraints that serve other, practical ends extraneous to science – but finds what logically and historically appears to the conscientious scientist the right thing, truthfulness. The appointment of a college teacher whose freedom is restricted by barriers is laying the axe to the root of German science. The call to a chair of history, or philosophy, of one who must be a Catholic or a Protestant, and who must serve this or that confession, is tantamount to compelling him to set bounds to his work whenever the results might be awkward for a religious dogma.” And he concludes with a ringing appeal for the solidarity of the representatives of science: “Perhaps I am not deceived in the hope of having given expression to the sentiments of our colleagues.” This statement of the famous scientist, conceived in the temper of his days of '48, was soon softened, if not neutralized, by a subsequent statement from his pen. But the spark had already started the fire. From most universities there came letters of approval and praise of his courageous stand, in behalf of the honour of the universities and of German science. On the other hand, some gave vent to their regret of his hot-spurred action. Since then the song of unprejudiced science has been sung in countless variations and keys, ending as a rule with the chorus: Hence the believing, especially Catholics, cannot be true scientists. For this was the central idea of Mommsen's protest, and in that sense it had been understood.

For the sake of clearness we shall condense the substance of the thought into a brief form: The vital nerve of science, the condition under which alone it can exist, is unprepossession, that is, a straightforward honesty that knows of no other consideration than to aim at the truth for its own sake. The believer, the Catholic, cannot be unprepossessed, because he must pay regard to dogmas and Church-doctrine and precept. Therefore he is wanting in the most essential requisite of true science. Hence college professors of a Catholic conviction are anomalous: they have no right to claim a chair in the home of unprepossessed science. For reasons of expediency it may be advisable to appoint some of them, but they cannot be regarded as sterling scientists. Catholic theology, building upon faith, is not science in the true sense of the word, and deserves no place in a university. A Catholic university, a home of scientific research built upon a Catholic foundation, is something like a squared circle. It may be that Catholic scientists, too, have their achievements, but they cannot be expected to be possessed of that unflinching pursuit of the truth which must be part of the man of science.

These are thoughts which have petrified in the minds of many into self-evident principles, with all the obstinacy of intolerance. It is not difficult to recognize in it the old reproach we have already dealt with, it is here in a slightly different form. The believing scientist is not free to search for the truth, being tied down by his duty to believe. Science, however, must be free. Hence the believer cannot properly pursue science.

Freedom of science and science unprepossessed are related terms and are often used synonymously. Therefore, in putting the probe to the often-repeated demand for unprepossession, we shall meet with ideas similar to those we have already discussed, only in a slightly different shape.

What, then, is that unprepossession which science must avow? Can the Catholic, the believing scientist, possess it? Unprepossessed research – “I don't like the expression,” says a representative of free-thought, “because it is a product of that shortcoming which has already done great damage to free-thought in its struggle with the powers of the past” (Jodl). Hence we have reason to fear that the confidence with which this word is used is greater than the clearness of thought it represents.

What is meant by saying that science must be unprepossessed? Undoubtedly it means that science should make no presuppositions, it must enter upon its work free from prejudice and presumption. And what is presumption? Evidently something presumed, upon which the research is to rest the level and rule of its direction: the supposition being taken for granted, without express proof. What I have expressly proved in my process of thought is no longer a supposition to the structure of thought, but a part of that structure.

Is the scientist, however, to allow no presumption at all? That would be impossible. When making his calculations the mathematician presupposes the correctness of the multiplication table. Or is he first to prove that twice three are six? He could not do it, because it is immediately self-evident. In his optical experiments in the laboratory, in drawing inferences as to the nature of light from different indications, the physicist presupposes that senses are able to observe the facts correctly, that everything has its respective reason, that nothing can be and not be, at the same time, under the same conditions. Can he or must he try first to prove it? He must presume it because it is beyond a doubt, and because it cannot be proved at all, at least all of it cannot. The astronomer, too, makes unhesitating use of the formulas of mathematics without examining them anew; every natural scientist calmly presupposes the correctness of the results established by his predecessors and goes on building upon those results: he may do so because he cannot with reason doubt them. Hence presumptions are common; they may be made when we are convinced of their truth; they must be made because not everything can be proved. Much cannot be proved because it is immediately self-evident, as, for instance, the ability to recognize the true or the elementary principles of reasoning; many other things cannot always be proved minutely, because not every scientist cares to begin with the egg of Leda. He that wants to build a house builds upon a given base; if he will not accept it, if he desires to dig up the fundament to the very bottom, in order to lay it anew, he will be digging forever, but the house will never be built.

Hence to say that science must be unprepossessed cannot mean that it must not make any presupposition. What, therefore, does it mean? Simply this: Science must not presume anything to be true which is false, nor anything as proved which is still uncertain and unproved. Whatever the scientist knows to be certain he may take as such, presuming it as the foundation and direction of further work; and what he knows to be probable he may suppose to be probable.

In so doing he in no way offends against the ideal that should be ever-present to his mind – the truth, because he merely allows himself to be guided by the truth, recognized as such. And the sequence of truth cannot but be truth, the sequence of certainty cannot but be certainty. But should he presuppose to be true what is false and unproved, and the uncertain to be certain, then he would offend against truth, against the aim of every science.

Hence if the critic of the Bible presupposes miracles and prophecies to be impossible, inferring therefrom that many narratives in Holy Writ cannot be authentic, but must be legends of a later period, he is making arbitrary presuppositions, he is not an unprepossessed scientist. Likewise, if an historian presupposing God's supernatural providence over the world to be impossible, and, in building upon this basis, comes to the conclusion that the Christian religion grew from purely natural factors, from Oriental notions and myths, from Greek philosophy and Roman forms of government, he again makes unproved suppositions. If the natural philosopher assumes that there cannot be a personal Creator, and infers from it that the world is of itself and eternal, he has forfeited the claim of being an unprepossessed scientist, and by making in any way his own pet ideas the basis of his research he is violating the demands of unprepossession; the results he arrives at are not scientific results, but the speculations of an amateur.

Unprepossession and Religious Conviction

Is it possible for the Christian scientist who adheres to his faith, to be unprepossessed, as demanded by science? According to all that has been said hitherto about the relation of science to faith, the answer can be only in the affirmative. The believing Christian and Catholic looks upon the doctrines of faith taught him by revelation and the Church as an established truth. What to me is true and certain I can take for the true and certain basis and standard of my thought. This is demanded by unprepossession – nothing more.

Considering the immense extent of the sciences, the profane sciences will but seldom, and in but few matters, have occasion to presuppose truths of faith in the above-mentioned way; and only in a negative form at that. We have previously shown that the profane sciences must never take truths of faith for a positive basis to build upon; they must regard the doctrines of revelation only in so far as it is not allowed to teach anything in contradiction to them. And with this demand they will meet in rare instances only, because, if not overstepping their province, they will very seldom come in touch with faith (cf. pp. 88-96). When Kepler was studying his planetary orbits, and Newton discovered the law of gravitation, both worked independent of the Christian view of the world which they both professed; it was in no way a necessary presupposition to their research. When Scheiner discovered the sun-spots, and Secchi classified the spectra of the stars, they were not doing so as Jesuits nor as Catholics; as Mohammedans or atheists they might have made the same discoveries. Steam engines and railways, Volta's electricity, cathode-rays and X-rays, all discoveries that the nineteenth century can boast of, do not depend directly on any special view of the world.

And if the believing scientist does take his faith for a guide in some matters, when in all his researches in the history of the Christian religion and the Church he presupposes that God's miraculous interference is not impossible, because the contrary would offend not only against his faith, but also against his common sense; when in pondering the ultimate reasons of all things he allows himself to be influenced by the idea that atheism is false, or at least not proved – for that there is a God both his faith and his reason tell him – then these presumptions are by no means inadmissible. The naturalist, too, presupposing certain results of science to be true, takes care not to get into conflict with them, and he will soon correct himself should he arrive at different results. If a mathematician should arrive at results conflicting with other proved results, he would infer therefrom that his calculation was faulty; why, then, cannot the Christian now and then be led by the truths of his faith, of which he is certain, without by doing so offending against the spirit of scientific truthfulness?

Or may he not do so just because they are religious truths, vouched for by a supernatural authority? As a fact many of them are established also by the testimony of reason. This is shown by the examples just mentioned. However, the question is not how a truth is vouched for, but whether it be a truth or not. If the scientist is assured that something is unquestionably true, then he owes it to the spirit of truthfulness to accept it. In doing so he will in no way be unfaithful to his scientific method; the truths of faith are to him not a source of proofs for the results of his profane science, but only hints, calling his attention to the fact that certain propositions are not proved, that they are even false.

Much less is in historical questions the Catholic obliged to defend or praise everything of advantage to his Church, whether true or not. Hence Mommsen is grossly mistaken when he states in his letter of protest mentioned above: “The appointment of a historian or philosopher, who must be a Catholic or a Protestant and who must serve his confession, evidently means nothing else but to prohibit the Protestant historian from presenting the powerful mental structure of the papacy in its full light, and the Catholic historian from appreciating the profound thought and the tremendous importance of heresy and Protestantism.” The Catholic is only bound to the truth.

Or are the Christian truths of faith perhaps regrettable errors, hence presumptions that should not be made? If so, demonstrate it. Hitherto such demonstration has not succeeded. So long as the creed of the believing Christian cannot be refuted convincingly, he has the right to cling to it in the name of truth.

Or can we not have reasonable certainty at all in religious matters? Are they the undemonstrable things of an uncontrollable sentiment? To be sure, this is asserted often enough, explicitly or by insinuation. If this were true, then of course duty of faith and true unprepossession could not go together; one would be regarding as the truth things of which one cannot be convinced. But this is also an unproved assumption: it is the duality of subjectivism and agnosticism, the fundamental presumption of liberal freedom of science, which we have already sufficiently exposed.

However, let us assume again the position of those who do not feel themselves personally convinced of the truth of the Christian dogmatic faith, or of the Catholic Church. But the Catholic is firmly convinced thereof and, if need be, will make sacrifices for this conviction, as millions have done. Hence, can any one forbid him to think and judge according to his conviction? Would they who differ from his opinion for this very reason force him to think against his own conviction? Would not that indeed be “seduction to sin against the Holy Ghost”? If the jurist or historian has formed the conviction that Mommsen is on historical questions concerning Roman law an authority, who may be followed without scruple, and he does so without re-examining the particular points, will this be looked upon as an offence against unprepossession? If, then, the Catholic is certain that he may safely trust to revelation and the Church – and there is no authority on earth of more venerable standing, even if viewed from a purely natural point – will he alone be accused of mental blindness and lack of freedom?

Or may the scientist have no view of the world at all, because he might be influenced thereby in certain directions? The champions of this demand will surely not admit that they have not a definite view of the world. By no means! We know very well that just those who are most vehement in urging unprepossessed science have a very pronounced notion of the world, we know also that they are resolutely propagating that notion. Yet nothing is said against a scientist who is a monist, or who starts from agnosticism. It seems they intend to exclude one view only, the positive religious view. Yet not even this one wholly. No one finds the Jew who adheres to his religion unfit for scientific research. Of course not. Protestants, too, find favour: according to the statutes of some German universities Protestants only may be professors there. Neither Mommsen nor any other herald of unprepossession deems it necessary to defend science against these institutions and usages. It is plain what is meant by the popular cry for science unprepossessed: The man of science may be anything, sceptic or atheist, pagan or Hottentot, only he must not be a faithful Catholic. Is this fair? Is this the spirit of truth and justice with which they claim to be filled?

What has just been said about the Catholic being excluded, could easily be exemplified by a lengthy list of facts. But we shall pass them over. We shall note one utterance only, from the pen of a non-Catholic writer. The renowned pedagogue, Fr. W. Foerster, says in the preface to the second edition of his book on “Sexual Ethics and Sexual Pedagogy”: “Special exception has been taken to the catholicizing tendency of my book, and not infrequently the author has without further ado been made out an orthodox Catholic. For many years past I have been in a position to gain interesting information concerning the incredible bias of many champions of unprepossessed research. To them it is an a-priori dogma that everything represented by the Catholic Church is nonsense, superstition, bigotry. They are past comprehending how an unprejudiced man, simply by concrete experience, unprepossessed research and serious pondering in the field of pedagogy, could be brought to affirm that certain notions of the Roman Catholic Church are the unavoidable consequence of a penetrating knowledge of soul and life. This cannot be admitted by the non-Catholic: for him the truth must cease where the Catholic faith begins; he dares not assent to anything, else he will no longer be taken for a reputable scientific man.”

The bluster about unprepossession proceeds from shallowness and dishonesty. The most varied presumptions, that have nothing to do with science and the pursuit of the truth, may pass without notice; only when Christian and Catholic religious convictions, resting upon divine authority, are encountered, then tolerance gives way to excitement, a hue and cry is raised, the gate is shut, and entrance to the scientific world denied.

Philosophers arise, and each philosophizes according to his manner. Fichte says: “What philosophy to choose depends on the kind of a man one is.” The historian enters. It is reported that Treitschke said: “If I cannot write history from my own view-point, with my own judgment, then I had rather be a soapmaker.” According to trustworthy testimony, the well-known Protestant historian, Giesebrecht, used to preface his lectures in Munich with the words: “I am a Prussian and a Protestant: I shall lecture accordingly” (Hochschulnachrichten, 1901, 2, p. 30). Even here there are no objections in the name of Unprepossession. “Science,” says Harnack, “will tear off the mask of the hypocrite or plagiarist and throw him out of the temple, but the queerest suppositions it must let pass if they go by the name of convictions, and if those who harbour them are trying to demonstrate them by scientific means.”

Therefore the convictions, or, to speak with Harnack, the “prejudices,”of the Catholic “certainly deserve as much consideration and patience as the velleities, idiosyncrasies, and blind dogmas which we have to meet and refute in the struggle between intellects” (Internationale Wochenschrift, 1908, 259 seq.). “Science has been restricted,” the same authority also admits, “at all times; our progeny will find even modern science in many ways not ruled by pure reason only” (Dogmengesch. III, 3d ed., 1907, 326).

And what is to be said of those more serious suppositions, unproved and unprovable, which guide modern science wherever it meets philosophical-religious questions? That truly dogmatic rejection of everything supernatural and transcendental, that obstinate ignoration of a personal God, the rejection of any creative act, of any miracle, of any revelation, – a presupposition directly raised to a scientific principle: the principle of causality. Later on we shall make an excursion into various fields of science, and we shall show clearly how this presumption is stamped upon entire branches of science. Those solemn assurances of persevering unselfishness in desiring nothing but the truth; the confidence with which they claim a monopoly of the instinct for the truth, all this will appear in quite a strange light, the twilight of dishonesty, when we examine the documents and records of liberal science itself. We shall see sufficiently how truthful the self-confession of a modern champion of liberal science really is: “The recently coined expression, ‘science unprepossessed,’ I do not like, because it is a product of that shortcoming which has already done so much damage to free thought in its struggle with the powers of the past – because that word is not entirely honest. None of us sits down to his work unprepossessed”(F. Jodl, Neue Freie Presse, November 26, 1907). Here we shall touch upon only one more question.