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Is cosmology a form of theology for a secular age?De Agostini Picture Library/G. Dagli Orti/GettyAlbertus Magnus, On the Nature of ThingsWhy is cosmology so popular? Books by writers such as Paul Davies and Stephen Hawking on fine-tuning or the multiverse routinely become bestsellers. They’re good writers, of course. And there’s the aesthetic appeal of cosmology too, offering a ceaseless stream of heavenly images at which to wonder and gaze. But I suspect there’s more to it than that.
After all, many other branches of physics are progressing as fast, and arguably have a bigger impact upon our daily lives. But when did you last pick up a paperback on solid state physics, one of the largest contemporary research fields? Or who would choose a book about optics over one about the Big Bang? Chaos theory gets a look in, as does quantum theory — though that’s very close to cosmology, as the history of universe turns on the physics of the very small.
So here’s a possibility. Cosmology is so popular, not just because of the science, but because it allows us to ask the big questions — where we come from, who we are, where we’re going. It’s metaphysics by other means. If the Scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages liked to speculate about the number of angels on the heads of pins, we today like to speculate about the number of dimensions wrapped up in string theory. The activities are similar insofar as they feed the delight we find in awe-inspiring wonder.
The most obvious example of “theophysics” concerns the so-called God particle. This is the Higgs boson, required by the standard model in particle physics to account for the observation that many particles have mass. But why should an esoteric entity to do with mass gain such a weighty theological ascription?
It was named by Leon Lederman, a former director of Fermilab. He thought the divine reference was suitable because the particle is so crucial to contemporary physics, and yet simultaneously so elusive. And is that not a bit like God? If God does exist, then God would be the ground of everything, and also never quite seen — only detected in the after effects of the divine wake, like traces in a particle collider. Ponder the Higgs boson and you ponder something of the concept of God.
Physicists profess to hate the title. But the media love it. And that surely reflects a wider public consciousness, sparked by physicists like Stephen Hawking, who are in search of a “theory of everything.” Again, there’s metaphysics in that dream, because a theory of everything would have many divine properties. It would be a unity — one entity from which flows the diversity of all that exists. It would be flawless — a complete and beautiful truth that could not be added to in any way. It would be necessary, which is to say it could not be otherwise and is entirely self-sufficient. God, if God is, is like that.
The links between cosmology and metaphysics can be drawn in other ways. Consider speculations about extra-terrestrial life. The interesting feature of this subject is that we constantly and regularly return to it — in books and newspaper articles — although precisely nothing of ET has been discovered. SETI has been operational for 50 years with no positive results. But we never cease to be fascinated by the search, not only because we’re fascinated by the possibility of ET, but also because we are fascinated by ourselves.
Thinking about what intelligence might be like elsewhere is a way of musing on our own nature. Again, it’s metaphysics. Is it (are we) massively rare, and that’s why the vast cosmos is apparently so silent? Is it (are we) violently destructive, so that intelligence wipes itself out before it gains the technology required to span the distance between the stars? Is intelligence so extraordinary that once it emerges it evolves startlingly rapidly — and that’s our destination too? Is it that we don’t detect alien intelligence because it outstrips our own, just as the cognitive powers of bacteria are outstripped by us? Or is the universe too enormous, and we’ll never know whether there is intelligent life out there, which is to say that our cosmic state mirrors our existential loneliness? Whatever speculative scenario you prefer, there will be a reflection on what it is to be human implicit in it.
There’s a historical take on this too. Extra-terrestrial life has been entertained for centuries. In the 17th century, the poet Thomas Traherne imagined the experience of a “celestial stranger” coming to Earth. What would this alien find? The thought experiment provides Traherne with a chance to express the wonder of being alive. He imagines that the visitor from the azure sky would cry out, “How blessed are they holy people, how divine, how highly exalted! … Verily this star is a nest of angels!” That’s Traherne 350 years ago. It’s striking that, in our speculations today, we tend not to cast ourselves in so lovely a light.
There’s a fascinating psychological angle too, drawn out by Carl Gustav Jung. He developed an interest in alchemy, not because he sought to change base metals into gold, but because he believed alchemy was actually a metaphysical discipline. Individuals like Robert Boyle and Francis Bacon lambasted alchemists who pursued a crude desire for gold, arguing that true adepts see their craft as a spiritual quest. The properties of materials like mercury and gold were mysterious to these early scientists. And so, to use Jung’s language, they provided a focus upon which to project great questions. As the alchemist stared into the retort, so they gazed into themselves. Do not the heavens provide the same function for us now?
Many would balk at the suggestion that cosmology is the new alchemy. Jung spent many hours discussing it with the leading quantum physicist Wolfgang Pauli. The two eventually published on the matter. So, it’s an association that can be justified, and helps to explain the deep interest that is so evident today. It’s not just the physics. The biggest questions themselves are embedded in the subject too.
Mark Vernon is a journalist, writer, and former Anglican priest. His books include The Meaning of Friendship, Plato's Podcasts: The Ancients' Guide to Modern Living, and After Atheism: Science, Religion, and the Meaning of Life. He blogs at www.markvernon.com.
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