The Argument from Design

a) Meaning of Design

:) Discussion a) meaning of design A design is, in simplest language, a plan. A plan may exist in fancy or in intention; it may be expressed in a sketch of work to be done; i t may stand revealed in the structure and function of an already existing thing. Thus, an architect’s conception of a projected building is his design or plan: so also are his drawings; and the finished building exhibits in itself the plan or design of its builder. Here we discuss the plan of the world around us. The world exists; it is not merely projected as a thing to be made; it must exhibit in itself the design of its maker. But has the world a plan ? Is it not, perhaps, a haphazard mass of matter, a jumble of objects thrown together by accident? In a word, is it not possible that the world has been arranged by chance? No, it is not possible. Chance is an empty word in this coniiwuuii. nection. Chance viiantv vamiuL cannot px produce vuuw axxjuxuxgj anything. nor the arrangement of anything. If chance could produce anything, it would be a cause but, obviously, chance is the opposite of cause. If chance were a cause, its effect would follow logically from it, and would not happen by chance at all. Thus, to posit chance as cause is to involve oneself in a very evident contradiction. Of course, even if the world were a jumbled mass of objects, it would still require its cause; and its arrangement, its very jumbled arrangement, would still require its cause. For if arrangement requires a cause, so does disarrangement; and chance—that tricky word—cannot be the cause of either. We use the word chance in daily speech, as when we say, “We met by chance,” or “It chanced to be raining.” But this use of the word is very different from that of the pseudo-philosopher who employs it to explain the world. In the expressions quoted, we mean that a meeting (which had its cause in the persons who met and in their choice of paths) was unforeseen or unintended; and that the rain (which had its cause in atmospheric conditions) was unexpected or was a mere circumstance in the situation or event described. Thus we use the word chance as a loose equivalent for that which is unexpected, unforeseen, unforeseeable, unintended, circumstantial, unimportant. So we speak of a chance meeting, a chance occurrence, a game of chance (in which the outcome is not to be foreseen), etc. We never really use the word chance as cause; indeed, in every case, the term is applied to an unexpected or unintended or circumstantial effect. Granted, then, that chance cannot explain the world’s arrangement, may we not still maintain that the world (which has, of course, its adequate cause) is without design, without plan? Not if we are in our five wits, and if we look at the world. For all about us we see regularity and order, and these are the soul of design. So obvious is the wonderful arrangement and order of the world that the ancient Greeks called it a cosmos, that is, a well-ordered thing; and the Romans could find no more suitable name for the universe than mundus, which means clean and orderly. There is regularity in the movements of earth and planets, in the constancy of types and species of living things, in the structure and arrangement of crystals in mineral substances. Scientists talk of physical, chemical, biological laws; and every one of these laws is a formula which expresses the constant, uniform order and regularity of objects and processes in the world. As well might one think to read the sonnets of Shakespeare printed in the dust by a handful of type scattered at haphazard, as to think that the marvellous regularity and order of the universe is without design. To choose but a single example from a world of order—what wondrous arrangement and design is found in the structure of a simple plant. Here we have fine and delicate organs, each serving its purpose steadily and with admirable exactitude, and all harmoniously conspiring to produce flow’dr, and fruit, and seed that will germinate and produce other fertile plants of the same kind. Order means more than regularity of arrangement and function; it means a regular arrangement made with a view to some end, the serving of some purpose. This we find unmistakably in the world. The parts of a plant are not merely prettily arranged; they are arranged in a manner suitable to the requirements of the plant for life, growth, and germination. The eye of an animal is not only skilfully constructed; it is constructed to serve the purpose of seeing. The regular movement of earth and sun is not only a splendid and constant reality; it serves a great purpose, for it provides periods of light and heat, of rest and darkness, without which nothing could live and grow. The earth and its order serves the needs of men: the earth is fitted to be man’s home and his workshop; man breathes the air of heaven; the clear waters of the earth slake his thirst; plants, animals, and minerals furnish him with food, clothing, shelter, warmth, and means for the development of mental and bodily powers in invention, research, construction. Thus there is order everywhere about us, order which is arrangement with a purpose, order which is the expression of design. The telescope and the microscope have revealed wonders in the universe, large and small; and whether we look out into the vast reaches of space or study the smallest particles of matter through magnifying lenses, we are everywhere confronted with a marvellous harmony, regularity, arrangement, order. In a word, we are confronted with applied design. For, where there is order, there is necessarily design. And where there is design, there is infallibly a designer. And where there is a designer, there is an intelligent force. This reasoning is as incontrovertible as it is simple and direct. Further: the more wonderful the design, the more wonderful is the intelligence of the designer. What a wondrous intelligence, then, has designed this great world, in general structure and in smallest detail; in the wide sweep of cosmic movement and in the slightest attraction and cohesion of particle with particle; in things lifeless and things alive; in the amazing harmonies and bewildering complexities of living cells and tissues; in the incredible function of generation ; in the miracles of speech, of reasoning, of free-will! Dare we call it an intelligence less than infinite which planned this world ? Dare we call that power less than limitless which carried the plan into execution? Even if the marvel of the world did :not force us to conclude that an infinite intelligence idesigned the world and an infinite power executed the design, we should find our way to the same conclusion marked out by cold reason. For consider: if the intelligence which designed the world be other than the First Cause, God, then that intelligence is an effect, a creature of the First Cause. And, since the effect receives its being and all of its perfections from its adequate cause, the intelligence which designed the world must have received all its being and perfection from God, and thus God is ultimately the intelligence that planned the world. The same line of reasoning demonstrates the fact that it is the power of God which executed the world’s design. Hence, that which is first, is always first: in causation, in conferring motion, in making and executing design. And, since the first Being is infinite, i.e., limitless in all perfection, it follows that the first Being is infinite intelligence and infinite power, Or, in other words, is omniscient and omnipotent.

b) The Argument

1. If the world exhibits a most wonderful and constant order, it has a most wonderful and intelligent designer; nay, its designer must, in the last analysis, be the infinite First Cause or God; Now, the world exhibits a most wonderful and constant order; Therefore, the world has a most wonderful and intelligent designer; nay, its designer must, in the last analysis, be the infinite First Cause or God. Hence, God exists.

2. The execution of a design of such marvellous complexity and perfection as the design of the world, demands, in the last analysis, the exercise of infinite power;

Now, the exercise of infinite power is the exercise of the power of God; Therefore, the execution of the design of the world demands the exercise of the power of God. Hence, God exists.

c) Discussion of the Argument

The first statement (the major premiss) of the first syllogism is evidently true in view of our preliminary discussion of design. The second statement (the minor premiss) of the first syllogism is also obvious. The conclusion follows of necessity. In the second syllogism, the major premiss is evidently true; for the same process of reasoning that leads us to the knowledge of an infinite intelligence in the designer of the world, leads us also to the knowledge of an infinite power in the executor of the design. The minor premiss of the second syllogism is equally evident. There can be only one infinite being, as we have already proved, and this we call God. The conclusion of the syllogism follows of necessity from the premisses. An objection may be raised. One may say, “There are imperfections in the world, and where there are imperfections in design and execution, it seems that there must be defects in the designer nd executor.

Hence, the designer of the world cannot be of infinite intelligence and power.” Before answering this objection, let us be clear about the meaning of the term perfection. If a being has no limitations whatever, no deficiencies, no lack of all possible and thinkable actuality, then it is absolutely perfect. Obviously, an absolutely perfect being is infinite; and, since the infinite is necessarily one, there can be but one absolutely perfect being. The perfection of other things—things which come ultimately from the infinite First Being and First Cause —is relative perfection, that is to say, such things are measured as perfect or imperfect in relation to their fitness or unfitness to serve the end or purpose for which they were made. In other words, such things are perfect or imperfect inasmuch as they are fit or unfit to do the thing for which they were designed. Now, the world, notwithstanding what are called its imperfections, is admirably suited to the attainment of the end for which it was designed. Therefore, while it is not absolutely perfect (an impossibility, for the world is not infinite), it is relatively perfect. It is no denial of the infinite power of the First Cause to say that it cannot create another infinite thing, i.e., an absolutely perfect thing. For a plurality of infinities is a contradiction; and infinite intelligence and power would be self-contradictory, it would simply not be infinite, if it could produce another infinity. Besides, the idea that a perfect cause must always produce the best thinkable effects is not justified. Must all the works of an agent (i.e., actor, doer, performer) be measured by the full power of the agent? Must every effect contain all the perfection of its cause? Must a man who can lift five hundred pounds never lift less than five hundred pounds ? Must the man who can spend a million dollars never spend a dime ? Must the automobile that can be driven at ninety miles an hour never be driven at five miles an hour? Must God, then, merely because He can, make things better or more perfect than they are? These questions indicate the absurdity of the objection. Still God is infinitely wise, and we may truly say that the things He makes are indeed the very best, not in themselves, but in relation to the end they were designed to achieve. In a word, the world is not the best world, absolutely speaking; but it is relatively the best world. Imperfections in the world are, of course, no argument at all against the existence of a designer. Indeed, imperfections cannot be known as imperfections unless there is a standard of perfection, a design in fact, with which these imperfections appear to be out of harmony. One cannot tell whether a piece of cloth is more or less than a yard, unless there is a recognized standard called a yard. Similarly, imperfections or irregularities cannot be known as irregular if there is no standard of regularity (design) with which they fail, or seem to fail, to ponform. Im- perfections are no argument against design; on the contrary, they are a proof of design. They are the exceptions that prove the rule, i.e., the design. By imperfections in the world we usually mean such things as harsh climate, noxious plants and animals, ill-health, imperfect organic structure, waste lands, malarial swamps, wars, famines, plagues, poverty, etc. Many of these things are directly or indirectly due to the abuse of man’s great gift of freewill; they are not to be ascribed to God; for God gave man free-will for the best and highest purpose (which is the achieving of Himself and eternal happiness), and He will not take away that gift; to do so would be to contradict Himself. Other imperfections (such as harsh climate, animals unfriendly to man, desert spaces on the earth, etc.) are, as imperfections, unintelligible unless we admit that some primal sin has blighted the earth. We shall see in a later Chapter that such a sin was indeed committed; we merely notice here that the material world itself bears evidence of the Fall. But these things called imperfections lose their character as imperfections, and even become relative perfections, when we consider that they are very useful, and some of them even necessary, to fallen man. Without hardship, without stimulus, without many and continual prods to the task of achieving his last end, man would quickly degenerate into the broken victim of his own disordered passions. The imperfections of the world afford occasion and opportunity for self-control for penance, for stabilizing character; they stir man to bodily, mental, and spiritual effort, without which he would never develop his capacities and capabilities; they make possible the splendid things called “social v rtues.” Without sickness, affliction, worry, poverty, how should we know of such perfections as nobility c f soul, spiritual stamina, heroism? How should we have experience of such fine and gracious things as practical charity, benevolence, generosity? With,out the stress of trials and persecutions, how should we know the ennobling power of self-sacrifice and feel the glorious inspiration of martyrdom? If the thought should strike us, “How can things external, such as mere harshness of climate, be of any value to man ? How can such a thing be more or less than an imperfection pure and simjpie?” we may find much illumination in the following remarks of Mr. Hillaire Belloc (On, pp. 135-137): “If one could exactly balance all the things which one desires in a climate, I will tell you what would happen. One would lose three things, each more important than the last—energy, decent morals, and happiness. I suppose what one would exactly balance in a climate would be a sufficiency of moisture without discomfort, a sufficiency of light without loss of repose, and a sufficiency of heat without the breeding of noxious things… . Well, if one lived in such a climate, I say that one would lose energy and morals and happiness. They say that the mind turns inward when it suffers too much sorrow. That is true; but it remains alive. It turns inward also, but in a permanent dead fashion, when it has no stimulus at all/ Perhaps the most baffling of the imperfections of the world are those of organic deficiencies, malformations, and physical pain in brute animals. Well, if we deny the obvious fact of original sin and its effect upon the whole world, we are face to face with an unanswerable problem. But if we look upon the world as a place made for man alone, to be his temporary dwelling-place and workshop; a place that contains many splendid creatures other than man, but all made for man’s use; a place, finally, that man’s sin has blighted and disordered—we shall easily understand that all creatures made to serve man must show something of the result of the havoc that sin has wrought. And even these things serve man; in animal suffering and malformation, man can truly look upon a thing that sin has done, and he can learn to hate sin in himself and to avoid it. Nor, on the other hand, is animal suffering a pure misery to the animal; without pain and suffering animals would not know of their hurts or diseases, and would take no measures to protect themselves or preserve their existence. Rightly considered, the imperfections here discussed are in no sense an argument against the relative perfection of the world’s design. Evil and suffering in the world are problems insoluble only when looked at in themselves. For the mere materialist, the unbeliever, the mam who looks for his best heaven here on earth, evil and suffering are indeed problems without solution. Bw: for the man who does not refuse to look at human life as it is, and to see it, as it ought to be seen, against the background of eternity, the problems do not present insuperable difficulty. Those who look at the world’s imperfections in themselves, are like men who should consider a painful operation in itself and without reference to the thing called health and strength. There are such things as unpleasant means, but these may become endurable and even highly desirable in view of an important end which they will help to achieve. And so they may very properly be permitted to enter into the design that is directed to the attaining of that end. It is the part of a wise and skilful designer to plan his work in such a way as to make it a suitable and useful means to the end it is intended to attain. How much wiser and more intelligent is the designer who, when his original work is blighted and. broken, can quickly adapt the wreckage to serve as well as ever. How infinitely wise is the designer who has the intelligence and power to make the injured work serve better than ever in view of the new conditions of those that the design is to serve;—and such a designer is the Designer of this world. Leaving the very interesting questiorj of “imperfections” in the world, let us turn our attention to another matter. Sometimes even learned men are unbelievably dull, and in such moments they are likely to think that the Argument from Design is invalid if: (1) they can produce by art some of the things produced naturally in the world, or (2) if they happen to know the mere names that men have invented for physical and chemical elements found in the make-up of things in the world. Thus, it is possible to produce, by means of art, true diamonds, although, as a matter of fact, the process is so elaborate and expensive that digging for the natural product and risking the chance of finding it in tried fields, comes rather cheaper; and besides, no diamonds of great size have as yet been produced artificially. But surely the diamond-maker plans his work; his design is, indeed, very elaborate. There is obviously no argument in the business which can throw doubt upon the design of the world. For certainly it is not logical to assert or to imply that, because man can design a thing now, it was not designed in the first place. The other point considered here is equally valueless as an argument against design in the world. A chemist once remarked, “Look at this fine apple. Do you know, I can tell you every element that this fruit contains. This is a thing that men of old could not do; but science brings progress; we make steady advance; the world gives up more and more of its secrets; we are not so likely to cry ‘miracle’ now as we were a while back; nor, indeed, are we so ready to admit a divine plan and power in things.” If the learned chemist had but translated his verbalization into significant speech, he would doubtless have been astonished—and it is not too much to hope that he would have been ashamed—at whathe really said. For whathe said amounts to this: “I know the names that men have given to several very mysterious things, things which I cannot create or even begin to create, that are discovered in making an analysis of this fruit. Of course, I do not know at all how these things came together to make this fruit, nor do I understand how they got the power to associate together, nor of their what essence they are. Indeed, I only know names. Yet, I feel that knowing these names is a reason for denying design in the world. Now, no sane man would make a statement of this kind, in these words. But many a sane man, many a scientist, many an educator, is making just such statements every day, buthe is “winding them about with circumstance,” he is using words like science, and progress, and enlightenment, and modern advance, and contemporary state of knowledge, and such terms, terms that lend a kind of dignity and ponderous sententiousness to his utterance. Truly, “the world is still deceived with ornament,” and it is largely the ornament of ornamental language. A simple but adequate answer might be made to the chemist—although the Sir Oracle of the Upstart School is sure to find it native, and to admit the fact with a charming smile—in this wise: “You know what makes this apple. Suppose you construct one like it. Be sure to put seeds into it, seeds of your own wise making that will germinate and produce fruitful apple-trees.” And one might add: “Do this without design” There is much to be learned from what the pompous sciolist would call “nursery examples.” Let us consider one. Suppose a watchmaker should give you a little white box, telling you that it is filled with a liquid substance, instructing you to keep it in a high, even temperature for twenty-one days, and assuring you that, at the end of that time, you would find in the box a splendid watch, with wheels, balances, jewels, face, hands, stem, case, all complete. You would not think the watchmaker sane. But suppose the experiment worked out as he said. Then, indeed, you would be forced to acknowledge him as the most wonderful and skilful watchmaker ever known in the world’s history. What a power, what an intelligence must be his who could design the elemental liquid and cause it to develop by such simple means as the application of heat into an intricate timepiece! Now, let the little white box of the watchmaker be replaced by an ordinary fertile egg. Here is a little white box filled with liquids. Keep it in a warm place for a few weeks, and what is the result? A thing a million times more wonderful and intricate than any watch. There will come from this little white box a creature that is alive; finished to the last detail of beak and feather; furnished with eyes of marvellous construction and mysterious power, capable of feeling, of hearing, of moving about; capable of finding food, though uninstructed; capable of transforming dead food into living tissue of muscle, nerve, and bone; made in such wise that part fits perfectly to part in an organism of the most intricate arrangement and the most complex and delicate balance. Here is plan, here is design, here is power! When we hear large and learned talk of nature, and energy, and force, and adaptation, and environment, and behavior, and heredity, and transmitted variations, and all the sounding litany of scientific and pseudo-scientific terms, let us remember that names are names and nothing more. Anyone can paste on a label. We may call life by the name of biotic force or plasmic energy if we like; but we do not change the thing called life by giving it a Greek name; nor do we explain life merely by calling it something else. So with the things in this world. Call them by what learned names we will, our learning does not explain them, nor does it take away their designer. The universe, however named, still proclaims its design and its most intelligent, most powerful designer. In the arguments so far developed we have learned, by sheer reasoning, that there is a First Cause of the world and all things in it, and that this First Cause eternal, one, infinite, necessary, immutable, omniscient, omnipotent. We may add another attribute to the list: the First Cause is perfectly free. For, if the First Cause is one, is alone, what is there to force its action ? And self-forcing is unthinkable, for it involves a limitation in the infinite (and hence non-limited) First Cause. Therefore, the idea of force or compulsion affecting the First Cause and requiring its action is self-contradictory; and it follows that the First Cause is perfectly free in producing its effects. This most perfect First Cause we call by the name God.

Summary of the Article

In this Article we have defined design and have studied its obvious presence in the world. We have seen that chance can never be a cause of anything, but is only an accident or a circumstance of an effect. From the order and design of the world we have concluded by direct reasoning to the existence of a designer. We have seen that this Designer must be of boundless intelligence and power. The Argument from Design is often called The Teleological Argument, a name derived from the Greek word telos, which means end. For a thing designed is designed to attain a purpose or end; where there is design, there is inevitably an end to be reached by the design.