First of all, to begin, let us admit to the reality of matter. Anyone who has ever had their plans derailed by a punch in the mouth[1]—or any such similar impact—should be willing to stipulate to this. “Matter” is just a general term for the material out of which the stuff around us is made, and when we add energy to it to get it moving, it can wind up hitting us in the mouth (and so our common experience also establishes the reality of a second essential thing, energy). Matter generally occurs in one of four physical states: solid, liquid, gas, and plasma—an insight the ancients captured metonymically by speaking of the four elements: earth, water, air, & fire; which are familiar naturally occurring instances of those four material states. They were somewhat wrong in calling these “elements,” but they were on to something. Using a term cognate[2] with “matter,” we refer to the amount of material in something as its “mass” (as opposed to “weight,” which is the force due to gravity we feel pulling on a mass; pounds measure weight, while kilograms measure mass). A large object is often said to be “massive”—although the term tends to refer more directly to an object’s volume—how much space it occupies—than to its mass. The mass of an object divided by its volume (e.g. g/cm3) gives us its destiny…I mean, its density.[3]
From scientific experience (called by the cognate term “experiment”), we know, not only that matter is real, but that it can be broken down into fundamental pieces that, ultimately, are indistinguishable from that other major part of our reality, energy. While matter is what stuff is made of, energy is what does stuff. We name the first with words we call “nouns,”[4] while we express the second with “verbs,”[5] which convey state or action. Textbooks of science often define energy as “the ability to do work,” and indeed, the etymology of the word embodies this idea. “Energy” is from the Greek verb energeo, which means “to do work.” The Greek noun for “work” is the cognate (w)ergon (the first letter of which eventually dropped out). When you consider that the last two letters of that word (-on) are an inflectional ending, it is easy to see that the Greek root werg- and the English root word work descend from an ancient common root in their common ancestor language (known as Proto-Indo-European, since its descendants make up most of the languages of Europe and India).
In a sense, matter, whichever state it is in, constitutes a special state of energy, condensed energy, so to speak. Matter can be converted back into energy by bringing it into proper contact with a sufficient quantity of antimatter (like normal matter, but with the charges of its fundamental particles reversed), at which point both matter & antimatter are converted into enormous amounts of energy, as given by Albert Einstein’s famous equation: e=mc2, where “m” is the amount of matter converted, “e” is the amount of energy the matter is converted into, and “c”[6] stands for the speed of light in empty space—the fastest thing in the universe. You take “c,” multiply it by itself and the mass; that gives you the energy (which is obviously a whopping big number).[7]
Then, there is space (3 perpendicular dimensions of that, with two directions apiece), and time (only one dimension, so far as we can tell, with only one direction we seem able to travel in). These form the context and container of matter and energy. And yet, modern physics tells us that all four of these (space, time, energy, matter) are intimately interconnected. These facts, known to us by experience, experiment, and reason, may serve as a place to start. We can accept the reality of matter, yet the question remains: is that all there is? Is materialism true?
Now, let us clear up a potential confusion. “Materialism” has at least two meanings. Ethically, it means excessive attachment to wealth and material goods.[8] But philosophically, it means that the material world of matter, energy, space, and time is real, and is the only thing that is real. To put it bluntly, materialists believe that everything that is real must ultimately reduce to the physical, and thus, to that which can be dealt with by physics.
This, of course, is not true.
Can I prove this? I think I can. Remember that the question is whether matter alone is real, or whether there is more. First, let us consider several reasons to doubt that matter is everything, and everything is matter.[9]
But, before that, one observation. I think many scientists today often bristle at the idea of religion more for emotional reasons than for logical ones. For one, the continued presence of religion in our world challenges their own status as the priests of our modern secular society. They talk a lot about rationality, but ask them about science and they quickly start trying to wow you with how incomprehensible its greatest mysteries are. So as we look for reasons to believe in more than mere matter, let us beware scientists making like magicians and posing as priests. Instead, let us look past the rhetoric of technological priestcraft,[10] and see if we can’t make the content of science a little clearer, shall we?
To begin our reflection on the insufficiency of materialism, consider this: if you know something to be real, it is faulty thinking to assume that it is the only thing that is real. It is in fact contrary to the true spirit of intellectual inquiry, which always asks: okay, what else?[11] Even if you have no evidence at all one way or the other, your previous experience of discovering new things and the basic intellectual humility which should result from that ought to make you prefer to believe there is still more to find, rather than insist you know—in principle, at least—everything there is (for that is what materialism insists: that we know as a general principle that “everything that is, was, or ever will be”[12] is of only one sort—the material sort). This we could call “the argument from prejudice.” While prejudice has gotten a bad rap of late, it is really essential to human thought. A prejudice is just an operational heuristic, a rule of thumb, along the lines of: when in doubt, go this way. If we are seeking the truth about whether materialism is true or false, we should assume it false until it is proven true, since to do otherwise simply leads us to sit on our hands, confident in the idea that we already know everything we need to know (again, in principle).
In one sense, this is philosophical optimism at work. This sort of thinking was expressed by three of my favorite writers. First, there is philosophy professor Peter Kreeft, who wrote, “Philosophies are usually right in what they affirm and wrong in what they deny.”[13] I found a nearly identical statement in Ken Wilber’s A Theory of Everything, quoted from John Stuart Mill: “In all intellectual debates, both sides tend to be correct in what they affirm, and wrong in what they deny.”[14] Then, there is one of my favorite thinkers on science, Arthur C. Clarke. In an essay appropriately titled “Hazards of Prophecy: the Failure of Imagination” in his book Profiles of the Future, he gives the principle that has come to be known as Clarke’s First Law: “When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong”[15]
Here is one more example from the same book of Clarke’s wonderful empiricism and philosophical humility: “As I write these words, this room and my body are sleeted by a myriad [of] particles which I can neither see nor sense; some of them are sweeping upwards like a silent gale through the solid core of Earth itself. Before such marvels, incredulity is chastened; and it would be wise to be skeptical even of skepticism” (p.191).
—To be continued…
[1] “Everybody’s got a plan, until they get punched in the mouth.”—Mike Tyson (sometime heavyweight boxing champion of the world).
[2] Two or more words are cognate if they come from a common root, like “mass,” “matter,” & “material.”
[3] Lorraine: “Wait a minute. Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
George: “Yes. Yes. I’m George. George McFly. I’m your density. I mean, your destiny.”—Back to the Future (1985).
[4] From the Latin nomina, meaning “name”; they name persons, places, and things.
[5] This is simply the root of the Latin for “word”: verbum (thus suggesting how important verbs are in English sentences).
[6] Appropriately, the universal speed limit is symbolized by a letter that stands for a word meaning simply “speed” (the Latin celeritas, which gives us the English “celerity”—and the more familiar “acceleration”).
[7] Those knowledgeable about such things remember that such matter-antimatter reactions power the warp drives of faster-than-light starships in the world of Star Trek. Antimatter is very much real; warp drive, not so much yet (but look up the recent theoretical work of one Miguel Alcubierre).
[8] This is illustrated in the following exchange from the movie The Wedding Singer (released in 1998; set in 1985):
Billy Idol [with a grunt of disgust]: “Glenn doesn’t deserve her. All he cares about are possessions. Fancy cars; CD players—even women are possessions to him.”
Robbie Hart: “See, Billy Idol gets it, I don’t see why she doesn’t get it.”
[9] That is, in doubting materialism, we are doubting the assumptions underlying the following joke (which can be found in Ghostbusters: Afterlife, as well as an episode of The Big Bang Theory [“The D & D Vortex” 12.16]): Q: “Why can you never trust atoms?” A: “Because they make up everything.”
[10] As one of my humanities professors once observed, “I[nformation]T[echnology] is the priestcraft of the modern world.”—Too true.
[11] It is, however, entirely consistent with the feelings of a boy who, finding a certain girl pretty, insists that she is the prettiest girl—or even the only pretty girl—in his school (“And I’d be willing to fight any guy who doesn’t think so!” we might hear him say). Once again, we find the behavior of the scientific establishment potentially wanting in a bit of perspective—caring more, perhaps, for defending the honor of Mother Physics than for pursuing truth, wherever it may be found.
[12] In his popular television miniseries Cosmos, and the companion book, Carl Sagan said near the beginning, “The Cosmos is everything that is, was, or ever will be.” If this were meant as a definition of “cosmos” (“cosmos” means “everything”), it would be fine; but Sagan obviously meant by “cosmos” “the material cosmos,” so his statement was a rank declaration of dogmatic, presumptive materialism.
[13] Heaven: the Heart’s Deepest Longing, p. 127.
[14] Qtd. p. 108.
[15] P. 29.
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