Kitabı oku: «The Freedom of Science», sayfa 33
Free Universities
Another manner, to provide proper freedom of teaching, is open to the modern state by incorporating free universities. Unlike the state institutions, they are not directly controlled by the state, but are independent of it in their internal affairs; they are founded and managed by private persons or societies. Universities of this kind are found in Belgium and in England, to some extent in France, but their home is chiefly in the United States. At the head of the free university of the United States is the president, with a governing body and a board of trustees elected from members of the university; they appoint teachers, prescribe schedules of study and examinations, and conduct its business. True, the state cannot relinquish its right to oppose a system of teaching dangerous to the common weal; it will also provide that those to be licensed to practice the professions possess the necessary education and training; but the state refrains from further interference in the management of free universities.
It is no doubt difficult to establish by private means universities equally efficient with those of the state; in the countries of Middle Europe this undertaking is perhaps more difficult than elsewhere, but the possibility is there, and it is even realized in some places. This, however, is not a question to occupy us here; we merely wish to declare, if similar foundations are about to be undertaken, and the necessary conditions are present, then the state must not prevent them, it must grant freedom in teaching.
True, the state is obliged to assist its subjects in acquiring material and spiritual goods, but only in so far as private means are insufficient thereto: the state must only act in a supplemental way. If it does that which its citizens themselves are able to do, then the state is needlessly abridging their free right. This includes the establishment of schools and the teaching in them. Presuming fitness, everybody has a natural right to teach others; hence, also, to found schools, whether by himself or jointly with others. Furthermore, instruction is a part of education, even at the university; it could hardly be said of the graduate of the preparatory school that his education is completed. Education, however, is a matter for the parents. Their rights would be infringed upon, if needlessly forced by the state to intrust their sons exclusively to the state colleges and to their method of teaching. How could the state's exclusive right to teach be proved? Does the pursuit of science belong to its domain? No one will care to claim this. If science were to be allotted to the jurisdiction of any one body, the Church would be the first to enter into consideration, because of her international and spiritual character. Or is this right to be conceded to the state because it is to be the bearer of culture? The state is to promote culture, but not to prescribe a certain brand of it. The argument that private universities cannot be founded and conducted in the proper way is certainly not borne out by the facts.
Even if the state, owing to its superior facilities, could provide better universities than private effort, it would not be entitled to the monopoly; the fact of being able to do something better does not secure the sole privilege of doing it. Moreover, in order to attract students, free universities will have to emulate state universities. The right of the state to found universities will of course not be disputed; but this right must not deteriorate into a disguised monopoly, that would grant privileges to its own universities, and deny them to free universities in order to put them out of existence. At any rate, the state will always retain considerable influence over the studies at free universities. It may require certain standards in candidates for political and professional positions, for judges and lawyers, teachers at state schools, physicians; it may insist upon state examinations, or it may make its stipulations for recognizing the examinations and academic degrees of the free schools.
By free schools of higher learning, a greater degree of freedom in teaching and in learning would be assured, or, speaking generally, a greater freedom in the intellectual life. If these higher institutions of learning are exclusively in the hands of the state, it cannot fail that the higher intellectual life will be dangerously dependent upon the state, or fall into the control of a dominating clique. As an example might be cited the restrictions placed upon jurisprudence by Prussia in the eighteenth century; the long-continued control of Hegelian philosophy; the Université Impériale of Napoleon; the predominance of anti-Catholic thought in our own schools. Universities, founded upon a positive, Christian basis, would surely be a comfort for thousands.
No need to say that such foundations may also be undertaken by the Church. This right cannot be denied to the Church, just as little as to any other corporation. Nay, much less! Because of its intellectual and international character science is most closely related to the Church. The latter, furthermore, has an eminent, historical right; no one has done more for the foundation and promotion of the European universities than the Church.
A remarkable and at the same time characteristic attitude towards free, particularly Catholic, universities is assumed by Liberalism. The stereotyped objection to Catholic universities is known; it can be reduced to this formula: At a Catholic university there can be no freedom in research nor freedom in teaching; but without them there can be no science; consequently, a Catholic university is a contradiction. It is the same old song: there is but one science, there is but one freedom – the free-thought that rejects belief. If it is really so obvious that a Catholic university is a contradiction to science, hence incapable to foster it, why the excitement? Either such universities are incompetent, or they are not. Let the experiment go on; the result will tell. If the result is certain, as is claimed, very well, one may serenely await it. Liberalism shows itself again here in the shape of that nasty hybrid of freedom and intolerance for which it is known. It is the head of Janus with its two faces: the one showing the bright mien of freedom, the other the sinister scowl of an intolerant tyrant. They shout for freedom, freedom they demand; Church and Revelation are put under the ban, because they restrain freedom. The state is denounced as soon as it wants to interfere. But if others attempt research free and independently, though not just so as Liberalism would like, then tyranny immediately takes the place of liberty, the herald of freedom resorts to oppression, and those who just now proclaimed the independence of universities from the state, who protested against the interference of the state in science, turn about and loudly call for the help of the state, avowing that science can thrive only under state control.
The Church and the Universities
In discussing the position of the social authorities toward freedom of teaching, we have chiefly considered the state. Of the Church we shall say but a brief word. It will suffice to recall what has been said previously; what has been stated about the relation of the Church to freedom of research, applies in many respects equally to freedom of teaching. Little will have to be added. The Church, and the Church alone, has received from her divine Founder the command to preserve the doctrine of revelation and to proclaim it to mankind. “Going, therefore, teach ye all nations” – this is the commission of the Lord.
For this reason the teaching of the revealed truth, Theology, is the privilege of the Church. But the rest of the sciences will not be exempt from the obligation to listen to the admonition of the God-appointed authority, in all cases where religious grounds are invaded. To the Church is intrusted the religious-moral guidance of her faithful; she cannot remain indifferent, when in the public teaching of science a system is followed detrimental to the Christian principles of the faithful. And whoever has entered the Church by baptism, remains subject to her authority in all matters within her sphere.
The state must acknowledge these rights of the Church, or else forfeit its claim to be a Christian state; these rights, belonging to the essence of the Christian religion, are guaranteed by God, and are independent of human sanction. Hence, in case of clashes in this respect, the state must listen to the grievances of the Church; this will chiefly concern Theology, rarely other sciences. Thus it would be partially correct to say that the theological faculties are subject to the Church, but those of the rest of the sciences to the power of the state. But only partially; spiritual interests cannot be marked out by faculties. Interests of faith may be also violated in other faculties: then cases may arise which lose their purely worldly character, and extend into the religious sphere of the Church. If a professor should lecture on a matter touching closely upon interests of faith, for instance, Catholic Canon law or philosophy, and should show bias against Church and Christianity, deny its authority, distort and attack its tenets – then this would constitute an evident wrong to the Church and a flagrant violation of the interests which to guard it is her duty, especially in a country overwhelmingly Catholic. In that case the Church would be entitled to make expostulation.
In rejecting the protests of the Church in such cases, as being the interference of a foreign power, the state would thereby prove that it misunderstands both, the religious vocation of the Church and the proper relation between state and Church. For the faithful, whom the state calls its subject, are also the subjects of the Church, they are the lambs and sheep the Church is to feed, in obedience to divine command. Church and state having in common the same subjects, and being closely connected for so long a time that it has become historical, it would be unnatural if they were to treat each other as strangers, such as might be expected in a heathen country, Japan, for instance. The nature of the case and the weal of the people demand harmonious action in such matters. It cannot be denied, moreover, that the Church commonly meets the state government to the extreme limit of her ability. About the divine rights of the Church opinions differ, but those able to fully appreciate the precious benefits of religion and morality will regard it as one of the greatest boons to humanity, that there exists within its fold an organization which protects with fearless, awe-inspiring majesty these benefits against all attacks, even against the state and its all-devouring policy of utility, and in this way defends the mental dignity of the human individual against oppression by the reckless reality of external life.
Just to show how an avowed free-thinker appreciates the significance of a commanding spiritual force as against the state we will quote the French positivist A. Comte, who declares: “The absorption of the spiritual by the worldly power is a return to barbarity; the separation of the two powers, however, is the principle for mental uplift and moral dignity.” “True,” says he, “men struggle in blind aversion against spiritual power of any kind; yet it will even then prevail, though in a mistaken way. Professors, authors, and newspaper writers will then pose as the speculative leaders of mankind, although they lack all mental and moral qualification for it” (Cours de philosophie positive).
Short-sighted perception may upbraid the Catholic Church; but a far-sighted judgment will have to concede that mankind owes gratitude to the Church and the Papacy. A noted Protestant writer remarks: “But for the Papacy the Middle Ages would have fallen a prey to barbarity. Even in our day the liberty of nations would be threatened with greatest danger if there were no Papacy. It is the most effective counterpoise to an omnipotent power of the state. If it did not exist, it would have to be invented” (Hübler).
Fifth Section. Theology
Chapter I. Theology And Science
Now one other, the concluding point. So far our discussion has dealt almost exclusively with the profane sciences, and while there were often under discussion general principles, applying also to theology, we did not refer to the latter expressly for the reason that it occupies a special position in regard to our question. Theology is the science of the faith, its subjects are truths established by divine or inspired authority; hence, in teaching, authority plays a larger part in this than in any other science. For this reason much fault is found with theology, and many consider that it forfeits thereby its claim to rank as a science. They say it lacks all liberty, the results are prescribed; it lacks possibility of progress; nothing but rigid dogmas, rejecting all development and improvement; its vocation is exhausted by the incessant transmitting of the immutable; hence it lacks all the essential conditions of a true science, it has no claim to a place at the university; if it nevertheless has established itself at the university, as is the case in some countries, it must be considered as an alien body, a remnant of an obsolete time.
A keen eye cannot fail to detect in these words the prompting voice of that view of the world which rejects everything supernatural, and declares that Christian dogmatics and morals, and ideas of sin, redemption, humility of faith, cross, and self-denial, do no longer correspond to modern man. At bottom is the struggle between the two views of the world – one the philosophy of modern, sovereign man, the other the contemplation of the world in the light of Christianity: a process of repulsion, psychologically easily understood, by which the one seeks to expel the other from the position which it desires to occupy. A closer examination of the matter will show this.
Theology as a Science
Is theology a science in the proper sense? May it rightly claim a place among the branches of human science? This shall be the first question to be answered. Theology, meaning the doctrine of God, is the science of the Revelation, or of the faith; of the Revelation which began in the Old Testament and reached its perfection in Christ, the Son of God, in whom appeared the fulness of God, the image of the glory of God, the perfection of all religion; the Revelation intrusted to the Church to be preserved infallibly, so that by these truths, and means of salvation, the Church might guide and enrich the life of believing mankind. Hence, in the broad sense in which it is understood now, theology is the science that gathers the revealed truths from their sources, endeavours to grasp and to defend them, and to deduce new truths from them; which also studies these truths and the means given for salvation, in their development and effect in the Christian life.
Thus it includes a wide range of subordinate branches, connected by a common object. The biblical sciences have for their subject Holy Writ; the sciences of introduction to the Bible deal with its external history, with historical criticism playing an important part; exegesis is occupied with the scientific interpretation of the text and uncovers the treasures of truth in Holy Writ, assisted in this task by hermeneutics and a number of philosophical-historical auxiliary sciences. Ecclesiastical history and its branches of patrology, history of dogma, ecclesiastical archæology, and art, and other auxiliary sciences, describe the doctrine of Revelation in its historical course through the centuries, and its development in the bosom of the Church. Dogmatics (with apologetics) and morals have the task to explain and defend the doctrine of faith and morals, as drawn from the Scriptures and from tradition, to deduce new truths from them and to unite them all in a system. Finally, Canon law, and even to a greater degree the departments of pastoral theology, homiletics, liturgy, show how the treasures of Revelation and Redemption find their realization in the practical life of the Church and of the Christian people.
Hence there cannot be any doubt but that theology is a science in the proper sense, unless a wrong definition of science is presumed. Of course, if we should identify science in general with empirical science, and scientific methods with the methods of natural sciences and mathematics, and refuse to recognize any results as scientific except those gained by observation and mathematical calculation, then, of course, theology would not be a science, nor would many other branches of knowledge come under this head; the fault, however, would lie with a narrow conception, that limits itself to the portion of human knowledge within its vision, ignoring everything that exists beyond its horizon.
What are we to understand by science? It is the systematic concentration of the knowledge and the research of things according to their causes; hence of our cognition of a subject that can be proved by careful demonstration to be certain or at least probable. This we find to be the case in theology. It is the sum total, systematically arranged, of knowledge and researches concerning the tenets of faith, considered in the abstract, in their history, and in their effects on the life of the Church. Applying the method of natural thought, theology first studies the presumptions and foundations of faith, examines the sources of revelation by the philosophical and historical-critical method, proves the doctrines of faith by these sources, endeavours to grasp these truths intellectually, by the methods of analytical and synthetical thinking, and to make clear their connection. We have here the same methods as applied in other sciences: ascertaining the facts, definition of terms, deduction, induction. In respect to the history of the Church and to Canon law their similarity with analogous profane sciences is at once obvious.
There is one difference: in the theological sciences there is active, not only rational research, but also the belief in revealed truths. In some departments, like that of ecclesiastical history, this difference is less pronounced, they proceed by the method of critically establishing and connecting the facts; but they, too, are guided by the conviction that there is in the life of the Church not only natural causation, but also supernatural principle. Dogmatics takes faith to a greater degree as its point of support, in order to connect natural reason with the convictions of faith, and how richly natural reason may unfold itself is shown in the works of St. Augustine and St. Thomas, on the great mysteries of the faith. As regards faith itself, we must keep in mind that it has a scientific foundation: the credibility of revelation is proven, it is a reasoning faith. It may be likened to history. The historian, on the testimony of his sources, believes in the actuality of human events, having convinced himself of the credibility of his sources; this belief becomes then his starting point for further researches of a pragmatical nature: he penetrates more deeply into the facts, and connects them according to their causal relations. The difference is this: the historian rests upon human authority, the theologian upon divine.
Yet the objection is raised: theology is faith, or at least rests on faith. Faith, however, has nothing to do with science; faith is sentiment, whereas science is knowledge. That this view of faith is wrong, and the result of subjective agnosticism that denies to man any positive understanding of supernatural truths, we have shown repeatedly. Certainly, if faith were nothing but sentiment, no science could be built upon it; you cannot build stone houses upon water. But the Catholic faith is not simply sentiment, it is a conviction of reason, based upon God's testimony that the revealed doctrines are true. In the same way that the historian – to use the comparison once more – believes positively in his historical facts, on the strength of the authority of a Livy or Tacitus, or accepts as proved some events of ancient times, relying upon the testimony of Babylonian tablets of clay or upon the pyramids, and makes these events his starting point for further researches, without having to fear objections to his work on the ground that knowledge and belief are incompatible; just so the theologian believes in his religious truths because they are vouched for by God's testimony. This proves that the foundation for his further thought is not formed by uncontrollable, irrational sentiment, but by a conviction of reason.
Hence, if by knowledge is meant nothing but a conviction of reason – and in this sense faith and knowledge are usually contrasted by modern philosophical writers – then faith is knowledge in the proper sense and a contradiction does not exist. If, however, knowledge is taken to be the understanding gained by personal insight without reliance on external testimony, then, of course, there is a distinction, and theology would not be a science, in so far as it believes; just as little as history would be a science, in so far as it believes its sources. But theology is a science, in so far as it makes use of experience and reason, examines its sources, draws from them the facts of faith, and makes them the starting point for its investigations.
Theology also has mysteries among its subjects, namely, truths whose actuality is cognizable, but whose contents, while not indeed inconsistent, yet remain obscure and incomprehensible to us. But even this does not impair its scientific character. Other sciences share with it this lot of human limitation. Instances are plentiful in natural science where the existence of natural forces of one kind or another is proven; of which it is able to form some idea, but cannot fathom; they remain a puzzle to science, sometimes presenting the greatest difficulties. For instance, ether, gravitation, electricity, the nature of motion, and so on. The noted physicist J. J. Thomson says: “Gravitation is the secret of secrets. But the very same holds good of all molecular forces, of magnetism, electricity, etc. There are in animated nature even more things we cannot understand. We could say that of the processes of living organisms we understand practically nothing. Our knowledge of indigestion, of propagation, of instinct, is so small that we can almost say it is limited to the enumeration of them. What we do know and understand is not one thousandth part of what would be necessary for a knowledge in any degree complete. ‘If we raise an arm,’ says Pasteur, ‘or put our teeth in action, we do something that no one can explain.’ ”
