In some cases the physicist also discovers the mathematics. Isaac Newton was considered among the greatest mathematicians as well as physicists of the 17th century. Other physicists sought his help in finding a mathematics that would predict the workings of the solar system. He found it in the mathematical law of gravity, based in part on his discovery of calculus.
Indeed, Newton made strenuous efforts over his lifetime to find a natural explanation, but in the end he could say only that it is the will of God. Despite the many other enormous advances of modern physics, little has changed in this regard. In other words, as I argue in my book, it takes the existence of some kind of a god to make the mathematical underpinnings of the universe comprehensible. In the great British physicist Roger Penrose put forward a vision of a universe composed of three independently existing worlds — mathematics, the material world and human consciousness.
As Penrose acknowledged, it was a complete puzzle to him how the three interacted with one another outside the ability of any scientific or other conventionally rational model. How can physical atoms and molecules, for example, create something that exists in a separate domain that has no physical existence: human consciousness? This mystery is the same one that existed in the Greek worldview of Plato, who believed that abstract ideas above all mathematical first existed outside any physical reality.
The material world that we experience as part of our human existence is an imperfect reflection of these prior formal ideals. As I would say, mathematics is operating in a god-like fashion. We are starting to approach the technological capabilities of detecting exo-atmospheres and their compositions around worlds as small as our own; currently, we can get down to about Neptune-sized worlds , although the James Webb Space Telescope will advance that further in under a decade.
Did we come along at just the right time, to not only make it in our Universe, but to witness all the galaxies before dark energy pushes them away? A primarily ultraviolet view of the galactic center reveals a complex, intricate view of stars that Probably not, to all of these questions!
If we were closer to the galactic center, yes: the star formation rate is higher and the rate of supernovae is higher. But the main thing that means is that large numbers of heavy elements are created faster there, giving complex life an opportunity starting from earlier times.
Here in the outskirts, we have to wait longer! Even a focus, ultra-energetic, nearby supernova might not be enough to extinguish life on a Multiple scenarios for the asteroid belt may each have advantages for life evolving on the inner Perhaps none of them are prohibitive to the evolution of intelligent life.
Feild, STScI. Same deal for asteroids. Yes, a solar system without a Jupiter-like planet would have many more asteroids, but without a Jupiter-like planet, would their orbits ever get perturbed to fling them into the inner solar system? Would it make extinction events more common, or rarer? The evidence that we need a Jupiter for life is specious at best, just like the evidence that we need to be at this location in our galaxy is also sparse.
And finally, we did come along relatively early, but the ingredients for stars and solar systems like our own were present in large abundances in galaxies many billions of years before our own star system formed. The conditions that we need for life to arise, to the best we can measure, seem to exist all over the galaxy, and hence probably all over the Universe as well. Potentially habitable worlds may be possible around a large variety of stars.
How rare or common are these conditions elsewhere in the Universe? So the worlds are there, around stars, in the right places! In addition to that, we need them to have the right ingredients to bring about complex life.
What about those building blocks; how likely are they to be there? Organic molecules are found in star forming regions, stellar remnants and interstellar gas, all Humphreys University of Minnesota. Einstein often invoked God when he talked about physics. He was clearly awed by the laws of physics and grateful that they were mathematically decipherable. But during the s and s, hefiercely resisted the emerging field of quantum mechanics because it clashed with his firm belief that the universe is deterministic—that is, physical actions always have predictable effects.
The theory has revealed aspects of nature that seem supernatural: the act of observing something can apparently alter its reality, and quantum entanglement can weave together distant pieces of spacetime. Is there a place in this universe for the causative God of Aquinas and Leibniz? Or maybe the more diffuse God of Spinoza? Then he argued, less convincingly, against the existence of a deist God who created the universe and its laws and then stood back and watched it run.
Explaining the creation of the universe is trickier, though. Some cosmological models propose that the universe has gone through endless cycles of expansion and contraction. And we need to explore the universe and its history a little more thoroughly before we can make such definitive statements about its origins.
Suppose we do live in a universe that generated its own laws and called itself into being. And maybe this effort will lead to breakthroughs in theology as well. The pivotal role of observers in quantum theory is very curious. One major reason for that is this: you cannot know with percent certainty that knowledge requires percent certainty.
Furthermore, we can truly know lots of things that do not rise to this level of absolute confidence. For example, you know that a world independent of your mind exists—even though it is logically possible it is just an illusion— maya , as the Advaita Vedanta Hindu would call it. Does this mean you cannot really know that the external world exists? The fact is, we know a lot of things with confidence, even if not with complete certainty.
Indeed, there would be precious little we could know if we followed that demanding standard. The believer can have plenty of good reasons for belief in God—even if not absolute, mathematically certain ones.
For example, we are aware of the existence of consciousness, free will or a presumed personal responsibility, personhood, rationality, duties, and human value—not to mention the beginning, fine-tuning, and beauties of the universe. These are hardly surprising if a good, personal, conscious, rational, creative, powerful, and wise God exists.
However, these phenomena are quite startling or shocking if they are the result of deterministic, valueless, non-conscious, unguided, non-rational material processes. We have every reason to think a naturalistic world would not yield these phenomena—though not so with theism—and many naturalists themselves register surprise and even astonishment that such features should appear in a materialistic, deterministic universe. A number of years ago, I was speaking at an open forum at Worcester Polytechnic Institute Massachusetts.
This brings us to our second set of terms to clarify— theism, atheism, and agnosticism —and we should also tackle the question of who bears the burden of proof in the face of these conflicting views. No doubt about it, the theist makes a truth claim in asserting that God exists —a maximally great, worship-worthy being. So the theist, who makes a claim to know something , should bear a burden of proof. How is this belief justified? But does this mean that the atheist and agnostic are not making a claim?
This would be an incorrect assumption. Let us consider the atheist for a moment. Michael Scriven, a self-proclaimed atheist philosopher, has actually mislabeled himself. The first is that he has incorrectly defined atheism. Both bear the burden of proof since both make claims. So what is the difference? The agnostic does not know whether God exists or not. Why not take the opposite tack of Scriven here? We could add that if both the atheist and the agnostic hold that evidence for God is lacking, how does Scriven distinguish between these two positions?
According to his proposal, agnosticism would turn out to be identical to atheism. However, such a confusion of categories does not exist if we take the standard understanding of atheism as disbelief in God—not simply unbelief , which would properly describe the agnostic. Of course, an agnostic might—and typically does—say that some evidence for God does exist, but that the some, roughly equally weighty evidence against God prevents her from belief in God.
But this is beside the point here.
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