The Freedom of Science

Then there is the great want of philosophical training. Formerly a thorough philosophical education was the indispensable condition for maturity, and considered the indispensable foundation for higher studies. All this has changed; frequently there is not even the desire for philosophical training. Of course, modern philosophy in its present state does not promise much of benefit. “Students of medicine and law remain for the larger part without any philosophical education, and among those of the other two faculties but few students do better than come into a more or less superficial touch with philosophy” (Paulsen). The consequence is, they cannot scientifically get their bearings in respect to ultimate questions, and easily lose their faith, succumbing to errors and sophisms.

Imagine a young man, untrained; in books, in the lecture room, in his intercourse, everywhere, he is courted by a disbelieving science, with its theories, its objections, its doubts, – tension everywhere that is not relieved, accusations that are not explained; how is he to bring with a steady hand order in all this? To clinch it, he hears the obtrusive exhortation to form forthwith his own conviction by his own reasoning!

He is, moreover, likely to be informed as follows: “The university is a place for mental struggle, for incessant investigation of inherited opinions. For years and years the student was fed with prescribed matter which he had to swallow believingly, … at last the moment has arrived when he can choose and decide for himself. True, this freedom of mental choice – and it is the essence of academic freedom – has also its anguish. But how magnificent it is, on the other hand, when the gloomy walls of the classroom vanish, and the bright ether of research dawns into view with its wide horizon! He who cannot grasp and enjoy this moment in its grandeur and exquisiteness, he who prefers to the free life of the colt on the vast prairies the dull existence in a narrow fold … he has taken the wrong road when he came to the gates of the Alma Mater to study worldly science – he should have remained at the restful hearth of the pious, parental home, in the shadow of the old village-church” (Jodl).

What a lack of earnestness and of knowledge of man, what lack of the sense of responsibility! Of young men, without thorough philosophical and theological preparation, it is demanded to doubt at once their Christian religion, despite all compunctions of their conscience, and to argue the dangerous theses of an anti-Christian view of the world. They are expected, as if they were heirs to the wisdom of all centuries, to judge and correct forthwith that which their teachers call the result of their long studies – for they are not supposed to follow them blindly, they are expected to sit in judgment over theological tendencies and philosophical systems, and to struggle through doubts and aberrations, untouched by error, to display a mental independence which even the man of highest learning lacks. Such a knowledge of human nature might be left to itself, if the wrecks it causes were not so saddening.

“How terrible is the power of science!” a voice of authority warned a short time ago. “The unlearned are defenceless against the learned, those who know little against those that know much; the unlearned are incapable of independently judging the theories of the learned; error in the garb of knowledge impresses them with the force of truth, especially when it finds an ally in their evil lusts. No wielder of state-power can lay waste, can destroy, as much as an unconscientious, or even merely careless, wielder of the weapons of knowledge. Exalted as is the pursuit of knowledge, and as knowledge itself is if guided by strong moral sentiment and earnest conscience, so degraded it becomes if it tears itself from the self-control of conscience. This fatal rupture will happen the instant science deviates but a hair's breadth from the truth it can vouch for upon conscientious examination… Sacred is the freedom of science keeping within the bounds of the moral laws; but transgressing them it is no longer science, but a farce staged with scientific technique, a negation of the essence of science” (Count A. Apponyi, former Hungarian Minister of Education, officiating at a Promotio sub auspiciis, 1908).

In the year 1877, at the Fiftieth Congress of Natural Scientists in Munich, Prof. R. Virchow, founder and leader of the Progressive Party in Germany, sounded a warning to be conscientious in the use of the freedom in teaching, and in the first place, to announce as the result of science nothing but what has been demonstrated beyond doubt: “I am of the opinion that we are actually in danger of jeopardizing the future by making too much use of the freedom offered to us by present conditions, and I would caution not to continue in the arbitrary personal speculation, which spreads itself nowadays in many branches of natural science. We must make rigid distinction between that which we teach and that which is the object of research. The subjects of our research are problems. But a problem should not be made a subject of teaching. In teaching, we have to remain within the small, and yet large domain which we actually control. Any attempt to model our problems into doctrines, to introduce our conjectures as the foundation of education, must fail, especially the attempt to simply depose the Church and to replace its dogma without ceremony by evolutionary religion; indeed, gentlemen, this attempt must fail, but in failing it will carry with it the greatest dangers for science in general… We must set ourselves the task, in the first place, to hand down the actual, the real knowledge, and, in going further, we must tell our students invariably: This, however, is not proved, it is myopinion, my notion, my theory, my speculation… Gentlemen, I think we would misuse our power, and endanger our power, if in teaching we would not restrict ourselves to this legitimate province.”

And is nothing known of the inclinations and passions, especially of the youthful heart, to which truth is so often a heavy yoke, constraining and oppressing them? Will they not try to use every means to relieve the tension? Will they not gravitate by themselves to a science that tells them the old religion with its oppressive dogmas, its unworldly morals, is a stage of evolution long since passed by, and that many other things, once called sin by obsolete prejudices, are the justified utterances of nature? Will they not worship this science as their liberator? He who once said “I am the truth,” He was crucified; a sign for all ages. Base nature will at all times crucify the truth. F. Coppée, a member of the French Academy, led back by severe sickness to the faith of his youth, relates the following in his confessions: “I was raised a Christian, and fulfilled the religious duties with zeal even for some years after my first Holy Communion. What made me deviate from my pious habits were, I confess it openly, the aberrations of youthful age and the loathing to make certain confessions. Quite many who are in the same position will admit, if they will be frank, that at the beginning they were estranged from their creed by the severe law which religion imposes on all in respect to sensuality, and only in later years they felt the want to extenuate and justify the transgressions of the moral law by a scientific system.” “Having taken the first step on the downward road, I could not fail to read books, listen to words, see examples, which confirmed my notion that nothing can be more warranted but that man obey his pride and his sensuality; and soon I became totally indifferent in respect to religion. As will be seen, my case is an everyday case.”

Only exalted moral purity can keep the mind free from being made captive and dragged down by the passions.

In a college town in southern Germany a Catholic Priest some time ago met a college girl who belonged to a club of monists. They started upon a discussion, and soon the college girl had no argument left. But as a last shot she exclaimed, “Well, you cannot prevent me from hating your God.”

Prof. G. Spicker relates in his autobiography instructive reminiscences of his college years. Religiously trained in his youth, and in his early years for some time a Capuchin, he left this Order to go to the university. Previous to this he had been led to doubt by the perusal of modern philosophical writings, and at Munich he sank still more deeply into doubt. Prof. Huber advised him to hear the radical Prantl. In his dejection he went to a fellow-student in quest of comfort, and received the significant advice: “Indeed, Huber is right: you are not a bit of a philosopher; you still believe in sin, that is only a theological notion; go and hear Prantl, he'll rid you of your fancies.” Of the impression Prantl's lectures made upon the susceptible young students he relates: “They were especially overawed by his passionate enthusiasm, his trenchant criticism, his sarcastic treatment of everything mediocre and superficial, and, chiefly, by his self-conscious, authoritative, demeanor. Like a tornado he swept through hazy, obscure regions, whether in science, art, poetry, or religion. Even by only attending the lectures one became more conscious of one's knowledge and looked down with silent contempt upon semi-philosophers and theologians.” In regard to himself he admits that a few weeks sufficed to destroy the last remnants of his former religious persuasion: “Huber's prophecy was completely fulfilled, the last stump of my dogmatic belief was smashed into a thousand splinters.”

Vae mundo a scandalis! What a responsibility rests especially upon those who become the scandal for inexperienced youth!

In the upper classes of a largely Protestant college in northern Germany the professor of mathematics, some years ago, asked the question, who among the students had read Haeckel's “Weltraetsel.” All except four or five rose to their feet. Upon his further question, who of them believed in what is said in the book, about half of the classroom rose. “The immature youth who read the ‘Weltraetsel,’ ” so says A. Hansen, “unfortunately conclude: ‘Haeckel says there is no God, therefore we may boldly live as it suits our natural immorality…’ Is Haeckel the strong mind to assume for a long future the responsibility for this conclusion?”

One is frightened by the manner the highest ideals of mankind are often juggled with, what they dare offer with easy conscience to the tenderest youth. Prof. Forel is known by his widely spread book on “The Sexual Question,” perhaps better known even by his lectures on the subject, which some cities prohibited in the interest of public morals. In the seventh edition of his book we find published as a testimonial, also as proof of the good reading the book makes for early youth, a letter of a young woman whose opinion of the book had been requested by the author. Her answer reads: “You ask me what impression your book made upon me. I should state that I am very young, but have read a great deal. My mother has given me a very liberal education, and so I have a right to count myself among the unprejudiced girls.” She assures the author: “I never thought for a single moment that your book was immoral, hence I do not believe that you have corrupted me.” And such books are offered to young girls as fit reading!

Some years ago a sensation was created when in Berlin a young author, twenty-two years of age, George Scheufler by name, killed himself. Though of a religious training, he began at an early age to read the writings of infidel natural scientists and philosophers. His belief became weaker and weaker, and he finally abandoned it entirely. Only a few years afterwards, the young man, who had become a writer of repute, put a revolver to his heart, nauseated by the world, tortured by religious doubts. An organ of modern infidelity commented upon the event in the cold words: “The truth is probably that the undoubtedly talented author had not nerves strong enough for the Berlin life, hence he dies. May his ashes rest in peace!” Heartless words on the misfortune of a poor victim of the modern propaganda of disbelief.

Heavy, indeed, is the responsibility courted by representatives of science when they sin against the holiest ideals of mankind, especially when they induce the maturing youth, with his susceptibilities and awakening impulses, to emancipate himself from the belief of his childhood, and to tear down the fortifications of innocence! If the teacher is high-minded, this cannot mitigate the perniciousness of his teaching, but only increase it, neither can the fact that his personal morals are without a flaw vindicate him. If a man by strewing poison does no harm to himself, this does not give him the right to injure others. If science demands the privilege of assuming the mental education of our people, then science assumes also the duty of administering these interests conscientiously, and the gravest responsibility will rest upon him in whose hand science spreads ruin.

“Knowledge does no Harm”?

“The increase and spread of knowledge” (this is a further objection) “can never harm society, only benefit its interests” (Von Amira). Hence, do not get alarmed: nothing is to be feared from science. The apostles of the enlightened eighteenth century tried to quiet their age with similar assertions. “It is not true,” says Lessing, “that speculations about God and divine things have ever done harm to society; not the speculations did it – but the folly and tyranny to forbid them.”

If this were amended to read true knowledge can never do harm, then the mind might be set at rest, although even then it might become dangerous to teach the truth without discrimination or caution. Not all are ripe for every truth: truth can often be misunderstood, lead to false conclusions. Thus, it may become certain, perhaps, that a much-worshipped relic, a much-visited shrine, is not genuine: nevertheless in giving such explanation to simple, pious people one would have to display caution in order to keep them from doubting even the tenets of the creed.

But there is also false knowledge; can this “never do harm but only benefit?” Will all knowledge exert the same influence, whether the Christian tenets of love and mercy, or Nietzsche's moral for the wealthy, whether young people are given to read Christian books, or those of Haeckel, Buechner, and Strauss? The story is told of Voltaire, that he sent all servants out of the room when he had friends for guests and philosophical discussions started at the dining-table, because he did not wish to have his throat cut the next night. So this free-thinker, too, did not think that all knowledge is beneficial.

But, we are further assured, let science peacefully pursue its way; if it should err it will correct itself.

It is true, sciences of obvious subjects, that have no direct relation to moral conduct of life, do, sooner or later, correct their mistakes; recent physics has corrected the mistakes of the physics of past ages; historical errors, too, are disappearing with the times. Quite different is the matter when philosophical-religious questions are at issue. Pantheism, subjectivism, “scientific” rejection of faith, are errors, grave errors, yet it does not follow that they will fall of themselves into desuetude; they may prevail for a long time, may return with the regularity of certain diseases. Their error is not tangible, and the desires of the heart incline to them by the law of least resistance. From the earliest ages to this day the same philosophical errors have returned, in varied form.

But let us assume that this would be the case; that these errors, too, would disappear after some time, disappear for good. Is it demanded that the errors in the meanwhile ought to have free play? Shall the surgeon be allowed to perform risky experiments on the patient, because later on he will realize that his act was objectionable? Will the father hand to his son an improper book, consoling himself that truth must prevail in the end, even though defeated temporarily?

These are delusions of the abstract intellectualism of our times, which sees all salvation and human perfection merely in learning and knowledge, and forgets that knowledge signifies education and benefit for mankind only when attached to truth and moral order. Not knowledge, but knowledge of the truth, and moral dignity, make for civilization and perfection; knowledge no longer controlled by truth and ethics becomes the hireling of the low passions, and fights for their freedom.

“The Vehicle of Truth.”

Back of the urgent demands for unrestricted freedom in teaching stands invariably a thought that operates with palsying effect upon the minds: to wit, that science is the embodiment of truth, a genius carrying the unextinguishable beacon of light: to silence it would be to resist the truth.

Our first thought when we began our dissertation of the Freedom of Science was, that science is not the poetical being so often described: it is an individual activity, a product of the human mind, sharing its defects and weaknesses. For this reason science is not the infallible bearer of the truth; least of all in the higher questions of life, where its eyes are dimmed, and where inclinations of the heart still further obscure its strength of vision. And this is admitted, even to the point of despairing of the ability to find the truth on these questions, and if one is not ready to admit this, the fact is made apparent by a glance at the countless errors exhibited in the history of human thinking.

Is error to have the same right that truth has? If wholesome beverage may rightly be offered to anybody, can, with the same right, poison be given? May one follow his false sense of truth, calling it science, and teach anything he thinks right?

Moreover, is not this science, which, according to its exponents, need not regard anything but its own method, entirely a special kind of science? Indeed it is, as we have learned to know it. We have learned to know this free science, with its autonomous subjectivism, that shapes its changing views according to personal experience; this feeble but proud scepticism; we have learned of those ominous imperatives, that banish everything divine from the horizon of knowledge – a science with its torch turned upside down. And its aim – negation. The beautiful thought is frequently expressed that science, especially the science of our universities, is to act as the leader in the mental life of the nation, “a universal Parliament of science, which would represent the authoritative power so urgently needed by our discordant and sceptical age, an age that has lost faith in authority.”

The idea is beautiful, it is sublime; it coincides with a conception of the divine Spirit, who has already realized it, though, it is true, in another manner. The divine Spirit has founded in the bosom of mankind such a centre of mental life; namely, the Church. She, and only she, bears all the marks of the universal teacher of truth. By virtue of divine aid the Church alone has the prerogative of infallibility, as necessary to the teacher of the nations; human philosophy is not infallible, least of all a science that despairs of the highest truth, nay, that often deals with it as the cat does with the mouse. A teacher of the nations must possess unity of doctrine. The Church has this unity, her view of the world stands before us in perfect concord; while discord reigns in the philosophy of a free mankind, one thought opposed to another. The Church is holy, holy in her moral laws, holy in her service of the truth; she never shirks truth, not even where truth is painful; the Church never surrenders the truth to human passions. The Church is Catholic, general, for the learned and the unlearned; she is apostolic, with faithful hand she preserves for all generations the spiritual patrimony of the forefathers. And the unbelieving science of liberalism, where is its holiness, when its eye cannot bear the sight of heaven? when it numbers among its admirers all the unholy elements of humanity? Where is its catholicity, its reverence for traditions, its historic sense, the indispensable requirement for the teacher of centuries? The ruins of overthrown truths, amongst which wanton thought holds its orgies, bear witness to the unfitness of infidel science to be the teacher of mankind.

Serious Charges

The science of our day must often listen to charges of the gravest nature. They are uttered not only by servants of the Church, but in public meetings, legislative bodies, and in numerous articles by the press: science, we are told, has become a danger to faith and morals, it has become the teacher of irreligion, a leader in the war against Christianity. The force of the accusation is felt and attempts are made to ward it off. And then we are assured that science is not the enemy of religion, nor of the precious possessions of society.

It is clear, without further proof, that science in itself cannot be a social danger; hence the charge cannot apply to science in general, but only to that special brand of science cultivated in an anti-Christian spirit. The assurance from its champions, that their intentions are the best, may often be a proof that they do not realize the scope of their doctrines; nevertheless, it cannot be denied that this science has become, through its principles, as taught in lectures and in print, the greatest danger to the religious-moral possessions of our nations and to the foundations of public order, hence an unlimited freedom for the activities of this science means unlimited freedom for a destructive power that spells ruin to our mental culture.

Can the principles of this science be anything but a danger? Their sharp antagonism to the principle of authority, must it not undermine the respect for state authority, must it not strengthen the elements of social disorder? Its contempt of sacred traditions, must it not become a danger to everything existing? “If all mankind were of one opinion,” it teaches, “and but one single man were of a different opinion, then mankind would have no more right to impose silence on him than he to silence all of mankind, if he could,” must not such an individualism become the fertile soil of revolutionary ideas? Its ethics without religion tells every one that his own individuality is the court of last resort for his moral doings, that moral laws are subject to change, and must such views not become a danger to moral order? Finally, the separation of mankind from God and its eternal destiny, must it not necessarily lead the whole of life to materialism? and from the scullery it is not far to the sewer. Through its antagonism to Christian faith this science becomes the chief factor in dechristianizing the nations.

It is objected that this accusation is not true, because science addresses itself to professional circles only; the people, of course, cannot digest these things, therefore religion is to be preserved for the people.

Why this distinction? The principles of liberal science of to-day are either true or they are not true. If not true, why profess them? If they are true, as is vehemently asserted, then why should the people be excluded from a true view of the world? Have the people not an equal right to the truth in important questions, equal right to light and happiness? Ah, the consequences of this doctrine of freedom are feared; it is feared the people's natural logic would take hold of these principles and draw from them its conclusions. And by that very fear these principles stand condemned of themselves. The truth can stand its consequences, as does the Christian view of the world; and the more zealously its consequences are pursued, the more blessed the fruits. It is otherwise with error. Therefore, if the principles of liberal science cannot stand their consequences, they must be erroneous. “Consider chiefly to be good that which enhances when communicated to others,” is a wise maxim of the Pythagoreans. Anything spelling damage and ruin, when communicated to others, is not good, but evil.

Nor is it true that science confines itself to professional circles. Any one who does not lead the isolated existence of pedantry knows that this is not the case. What the professor of our day teaches in the lecture room, finds its way into the minds of his students, and from there into preparatory and public schools; ideas committed by the scientific writer to paper and print, go into all the world, and, transformed into popular speech, become the common property of the millions. The flood of books, pamphlets, and leaflets attacking and vilifying the Christian tenets of faith is ever swelling, and day by day tons of this literature are spread without hindrance over Christian countries. There is not a single book against the Christian truth, be its author named Feuerbach, Strauss, Darwin, Haeckel, Carneri, Nietzsche, or otherwise, that does not soon circulate in popular editions in every country, or at least has to lend its subject to pamphlets and booklets, which then carry these “results of science” to every nook and corner, to the remotest backwoods village. And the fruits? All those who in these days profess infidelity and radicalism, they all unanimously profess adherence to modern free science.