Implicit in any conversation about scientism, or its sibling religionism,¹ is an assumption of where the border between science and religion lies. Before I discuss these border crossings (in subsequent blog posts), I would like to propose a precise definition of where this border lies and its ideological consequences.

Fortunately, the work of defining the respective roles of science and religion has already been done, and quite eloquently so, by Stephen Jay Gould, the late evolutionary biologist, in his book Rocks of Ages (1999) and in an online essay here. Professor Gould puts forward a model he calls non-overlapping magisteria, or NOMA, for the relationship that science and religion have had for much of their shared history, he argues, and ought to continue to have now. Science and religion, he posits, are non-overlapping domains of teaching authority, or magisteria. The magisterium of science encompasses “the empirical universe: what is it made of (fact) and why does it work this way (theory),” whereas the magisterium of religion “extends over questions of moral meaning and value.”

Essential to NOMA is the notion that science and religion ought to act as entirely separate domains – a difficult idea for some to accept, yet essential for any discussion of scientism and religionism.

For those who are skeptical of how Gould, a scientist and self-identified Jewish agnostic, could come to define the boundary between science and religion, it’s worth noting that Gould didn’t come up with NOMA out of the blue – NOMA has been, and continues to be, espoused by many people of faith and science over the course of their shared history. Gould merely defined this separation clearly and respectfully (and coining a good acronym helps).

Hans Küng, a Catholic priest and widely-read theologian (whose authority to teach within the church was rescinded after he opposed papal infallibility), writes extensively on the topic of reconciling science and religion in his new book The Beginning of All Things: Science and Religion. Küng favors “a model of complementarity involving critical and constructive interaction between science and religion in which the distinctive spheres are preserved, all illegitimate transitions are avoided and all absolutizings are rejected, but in which in mutual questioning and enrichment people attempt to do justice to reality as a whole in all its dimensions” (41). Furthermore, Küng agrees with Gould that science and religion ought not be thought of as at war: “[A] confrontational model for the relationship between science and theology is out of date, whether put forward by fundamentalist believers and theologians or by rationalistic scientists and philosophers” (53).

Other more mainstream Catholics have espoused NOMA as well. Both Popes Pius XII and John Paul II held the opinion that there is “no opposition between evolution and the doctrine of the faith” and explicitly identified evolution as outside of the magisterium of faith (Rocks of Ages 75).

While NOMA is a powerful tool that could be used to end conflict between science and religion, NOMA isn’t entirely simple in practice. Gould writes,

This resolution might remain all neat and clean if the nonoverlapping magisteria (NOMA) of science and religion were separated by an extensive no man’s land. But, in fact, the two magisteria bump right up against each other, interdigitating in wondrously complex ways along their joint border. Many of our deepest questions call upon aspects of both for different parts of a full answer – and the sorting of legitimate domains can become quite complex and difficult. To cite just two broad questions involving both evolutionary facts and moral arguments: Since evolution made us the only earthly creatures with advanced consciousness, what responsibilities are so entailed for our relations with other species? What do our genealogical ties with other organisms imply about the meaning of human life?

And because of this complexity in “the sorting of legitimate domains,” adopting a model such as NOMA can have its consequences – for both religion and science.

Perhaps one of the most controversial consequences of NOMA is that it doesn’t allow for strict biblical literalism. Gould writes, “if some contradiction seems to emerge between a well-validated scientific result and a conventional reading of scripture, then we had better reconsider our exegesis, for the natural world does not lie, but words can convey many meanings, some allegorical or metaphorical” (Rocks of Ages 21-22).

While Küng is less forceful on this point as he does not want to “violate the religious feelings of anyone for whose belief in God the miracles understood literally are important” (151), he seems to agree with Gould: “God’s spirit [does not] work at especially important points or gaps in the world process. Rather it constantly works as a creative and completing support in the system of law and chance and thus as a governor of the world both immanent in the world and superior to the world – omnipresent also in chance and disaster – fully respecting the laws of nature whose origin it is” (156). Furthermore, Küng writes, “the miracles stand in the Bible as metaphors, just as poetry metaphors too do not set out to overturn the laws of nature” (153).

Another consequence of NOMA is that it requires respectful discourse between the two magisteria. As Gould writes, “If religion can no longer dictate the nature of factual conclusions properly under the magisterium of science, then scientists cannot claim higher insight into moral truth from any superior knowledge of the world’s empirical constitution.” This means that people should not look to the magisterium of science when moral questions arise. There are numerous examples of where scientists didn’t seriously look outside their magisterium on moral issues: the creation of the atom bomb, the introduction of genetically modified crops, and the Tuskegee experiment.

NOMA of course has its critics – those who believe that, instead of having two magisteria, a unified approach to knowledge is possible. Religious fundamentalists and literalists take a more confrontational approach to science and religion and believe that, when contradictions arise, religion “wins.” That is, if science says life evolved over millions of years, then science is wrong.

Interestingly, the noted atheist Richard Dawkins also opposes NOMA, but believes that science “wins.” In an interview with Time, Dawkins said, “I think that Gould’s separate compartments was a purely political ploy to win middle-of-the-road religious people to the science camp. But it’s a very empty idea. There are plenty of places where religion does not keep off the scientific turf. Any belief in miracles is flat contradictory not just to the facts of science but to the spirit of science.” Dawkins’ criticism misses the point that NOMA isn’t a statement of how people currently behave but rather a model for how we ought to approach science and religion, and one that has been espoused by many scientists and people of faith over the last several hundred years.

Tikkun‘s Peter Gabel is also a critic of NOMA, and, unlike other critics, positions himself respectfully towards both science and faith; to him one does not trump the other, and the two need not be in conflict. Tikkun Daily recently published a debate between artist Christopher Reiger, a proponent of NOMA, and Gabel. Gabel, in a unique and nuanced stance against NOMA, argues for a unified system of knowledge, but one that draws on spiritual and scientific truths. Gabel plans on writing more on this topic, so stay tuned for more on this debate.

I personally find NOMA an extremely logical and appealing model: it makes a good deal of sense that there are some questions that religion, but not science, is well-equipped to answer and vice versa; and I like the idea of scientists and people of faith cooperating, drawing on their respective resources, towards the common goal of knowledge and wisdom. Since for both domains substantial training is required for expertise, this interdisciplinary cooperation seems appealing. Gabel’s alternative seems at first glance to require some new kind of expert to integrate truths from these complex fields. Whether his alternative is practicable is something I look forward to hearing more about.

Footnote:

1. Rather than its usual definition, I am using religionism (as an analog of scientism) to describe the view that religion is the only way to gain knowledge and understanding of reality.