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“Well, class—volunteers? Come on…what is the worldview of pre-historic religions?” It took a moment for anyone to work up their courage. Eventually a boy across the room from me raised his hand, and was called on. “Well, its not like they thought quite as much as we do…I suppose their world view would be all centered on survival,” the boy said. “Why?” asked the teacher. The boy continued, “Its one of our most basic instincts—humans then weren’t as intelligent as we are, I guess instinct was pretty much all that they listened to.” I raised my hand. “Interesting…any other comments? David, go ahead.” “Well,” I said, “I don’t think that humans before us were necessarily less intelligent, rather that they didn’t possess the means by which to explain the world around them, so they resorted to what seemed most likely solution. And if I had no knowledge of weather patterns, of natural predatory systems, of my ultimate purpose for being—I would probably decide that some animistic force was behind everything and beat trees with animal pelts to appease it or make it go away.” Some people laughed. The teacher smiled. The boy who had spoken before me shrugged and laughed with the others. This pseudo-knowledge of the alleged progress of the human intellect is something I am forced to deal with every day, from classroom discussions to out-of-school arguments about ethics and Church politics. It seems that in the post-modern culture, many—if not most—have accepted an understanding that as humans, we progress morally and intellectually in our understanding of the universe, giving us the authority to decide—with every new cultural fad—what is right and what is wrong. This is often accompanied by a firm conviction that the blessings of science will be our ultimate salvation, liberating us from the archaic ways of each generation’s predecessors. Often, though not always. What are we to do with this? Are the proponents of this ‘progress of truth’ correct? One of the first things that comes to mind in the discussion of the ‘progress of truth’ is the definition of truth itself: conformity to fact or actuality (as the dictionary puts it). The first observation one might make with this definition is that truth therefore is a fixed thing. If there is such a thing as ultimate truth, it cannot be something that progresses. We have come upon that ultimate truth or we haven’t—there is no room for a halfway point. This means that until we attain the truth, we are quite simply stumbling around in the dark, leaving the concept of the progress of truth as a contradiction in terms. It could (and has) been argued by progressives that truth, in fact, is not a fixed thing, that we redefine it with every new advance in science, or in ethics. Some even allude to an eventual ‘topping off’ of our worldly knowledge that allows us to advance as far as is humanly possible (though this would put them back at either an ultimate truth or the impossibility of ever finding it). For a moment, let us say that they are correct—there is no ultimate truth, no definitive knowledge of why the world works the way it does, of why certain things are right, others wrong. What implications would this have on a progressive philosophy? It would be self-destructive. It does not take a scholar or a theologian or a philosopher to point out that, if there is no ultimate truth, we might as well not bother changing our moral values. After all, if that was the case, there would be no point in advancing if we are simply changing the meaning of truth with every new scientific theory or generation, with no fixed goal in mind. With truth in a continual flux, there would be no overall definition. And so we are left with two possible conclusions: either there is an ultimate truth, and we are right or wrong (leaving progress irrelevant, not to mention impossible), or that there is no ultimate truth, and that it is pointless for us to continue this mindless rat-race of deciding—based on the spirit of the age—what is right or wrong, because no matter what we choose, we are right (or wrong, depending on your outlook). Now we shall assume that there is an ultimate truth—that some deity, no matter what religion, has created the cosmos, and the creatures known as Homo sapiens. I can only reinforce the fact that a higher power must be present in order for an ultimate truth to exist (after all, who decides an eternal truth, if not an eternal being?). This God will have an ultimate plan in mind, a way that the story of the universe shall unfold, which will require a certain combination of knowledge and ignorance on the part of the created beings. Let us put ourselves in the perspective of an overlord to a whole world, full of creatures, with one species which is intelligent enough to act upon their knowledge, once given, of our existence. These beings possess all of the tools (a mind, an intellect) necessary to enhance their ability to ponder their understanding of us. However, as of yet, there is no understanding. They are immune to our presence. How, then, do we go about teaching them of our plan? We have an ultimate truth in mind, and somehow they must know of it. If we genuinely love our creation, we would want them to be saved through the knowledge (or as much is as necessary) of our ultimate truth. The answer to this problem is simple: direct revelation. We must come to them directly and reveal to them our plans, or however much they must know. Until told, they will continue to stumble about in the dark (searching for the truth), ignorant to our purpose. This means that only through intervention can humanity realize its full purpose, and understand the truth it must conform to. Otherwise, if they continue to search on their own, and somehow by chance (or through our own playful allowance) they do find a worldview that coincides with our ultimate truth, there is nothing to prevent them from simply moving on to a new worldview that is more attractive. I am certain that most will agree—the right thing to do is rarely the appealing option. After all, there is no way to know what is truly right and what is truly wrong unless told. And based on the characteristic of society to change its values faster and with as much carelessness as is humanly possible, we will never decide that ‘this one seems best’ and hold onto it forever. |
