Gould, Darwin and Paley Meet the Invisible Hand

mired a book more.... I could almost formerly have said it by heart." Later in this essay, we shall see that Darwin paid Paley an ultimate debt of gratitude by inverting his former mentor's system to construct his own particular and distinctive version of evolution.

This long tradition bore the name that Paley appropriated for the title of his book--Natural Theology: or, Evidences of the Existence and Attributes of the Deity, Collected from the Appearances of Nature. Natural Theology stakes the particular claim that God's nature, as well as His being ("existence and attributes" of Paley's title), can be inferred from the character of objects in the natural world. (Most religious thought today either denies or downplays such a link and does not attempt to validate the idea of divinity from the nature of material objects.)

Natural Theology presents 500 pages of diverse arguments for God's existence, personality, natural attributes, unity, and goodness (in this explicit order of Paley's chapters), all centered upon one primary theme, endlessly hammered: God shows His creating hand in the good design of organisms for their appointed styles of life (wings are optimal for flying, nest behavior for raising offspring). Paley sets forth his theme, in the opening paragraphs of the book, with one of the most famous metaphors in English writing. As the scene opens, the good reverend is walking across a field.

In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a stone, and were asked how the stone came to be there, I might possibly answer, that, for any thing I knew to the contrary, it had lain there forever.

The stone, so rough and formless, can teach us nothing about its origins. "But," Paley continues, "suppose I had found a watch upon the ground, and it should be enquired how the watch happened to be in that place." Now the answer must be different, for the watch--by its twin properties of complexity and obvious contrivance for a purpose--implies a watch-maker. Complexity and construction for use cannot arise randomly or even from physical laws of nature (the laws may build something complex, like the chemical structure of a crystal, but not something evidently designed for a purpose, for natures laws are abstract and impersonal). The watch must have been made on purpose, in order to keep time:

The inference, we think, is inevitable; that the watch must have had a maker; that there must have existed, at some time and in some place or other, an artificer or artificers who formed it for the purpose which we find it actually to answer; who comprehended its construction, and designed its use.

One additional step completes the argument: Organisms are even more complex, and even more evidently designed for their modes of life, than watches. If the watch implies a watchmaker, then the better design of organisms requires a benevolent, creating God.

There cannot be a design without a designer; contrivance without a contriver... The marks of design are too strong to be got over. Design must have had a designer. That designer must have been a person. That person is God.

Paley's argument is scarcely immune from parody, especially since the reverend wrote in such a colorful style. His need to attribute purpose and benevolence to all aspects of our life in this vale of tears does recall his near contemporary, Voltaire's immortal Dr. Pangloss. For example, Paley's earnest resolution to the problem of pain parallels the punch line of an old and feeble joke: "Why did the moron hit himself on the head with a hammer? Because it felt so good when he stopped." (In fairness, Paley also presents the acceptable argument that pain informs the body of danger.) Substituting the ills of his age for the hammer of our joke, Paley writes:

A man resting from a fit of the stone or gout is, for the time, in possession of feelings which undisturbed health cannot impart.... I am far from being sure, that a man is not a gainer by suffering a moderate interruption of bodily case for a couple of hours out of the four-and-twenty.

Nonetheless, I believe that Paley's argument, although quite unacceptable today, deserves our respect as a coherent and subtly defended philosophy from an interesting past--a "fossil world view" that stretches our mind as we seek to comprehend our own preferences by appreciating the history of alternatives. Self-sustaining arguments are cheap; anyone with half a brain and a reasonable turn of phrase should be able to set forth his own prejudices. The test of a well-constructed defense lies in the identification and disproof of alternatives. If contrary interpretations are fully listed, fairly characterized, and adequately dismissed, then a system can win respect. I admire Paley primarily for his treatment of alternatives to his favored argument.

Paley's central argument includes an assertion, that organisms are well designed for definite purpose--and an inference, that good and purposeful design implies a designer. We might attack the assertion itself, but the prevalence of good

90