Faith and the “Diamond Net” of Reason

Only when reason has been uplifted by faith may it spread its wings and ascend towards reality and truth. To sever the power of reason from the agency of faith is to render reason idle—it is to condemn reason to a state of dormancy and impotence. Far from being opposing and mutually exclusive faculties or departments of human experience, reason and faith reinforce each other—they are abstractly distinguishable factors of a single process that gradually unfolds throughout the course of conscious development on an individual and collective level. Indeed, reason runs on the rails of faith and revelation: a faith in reason’s own efficacy, and reason’s revelation to itself, and through itself, as efficacious. Now, the notion that reason and faith are compatible and not hostile foes demands explanation. Our purpose in this brief essay is to illustrate how these two factors are complementary and mutually reinforcing movements in the life of mind.

Before presenting a case for why reason and faith are in harmony, it is necessary to examine how they relate to ourselves as conscious beings. Augustine writes that “we both are, and know that we are, and take delight in our being and knowing;”¹ and these are hallmarks of our conscious life. They are evidenced by our insatiable thirst for knowledge and understanding. It is a restless impulse that resonates throughout our minds and drives us onwards towards the fulfillment of an ideal end: the knowledge and understanding of what is real and true. The journey is certainly long, and the path is undoubtably treacherous; however, the mind is not alone on this ‘pilgrim’s progress’. The “two-fold force”² of reason and faith—to use Augustine’s expression—accompany him along the way.

How, then, are we to understand reason?”³ Strictly speaking, reason is the power or activity of the mind concerned with the principles of structure, universality, and order. Reason is neither a matter of merely observing and perceiving the world, nor again is reason merely the act of reporting what one observes or perceives; rather, it is the mind’s capacity for determining and grasping relations; it is an intellectual activity by means of which the mind organizes its conception of the world (e.g., its judgments, thoughts, beliefs, etc.) in a way that exhibits universality, systematicity, coherence, and explicability. Reason seeks to establish a system of necessary connections; a system wherein the impulse of thought can glide smoothly without interruption. Reason’s ideal is to spin a coherent, all-encompassing arras of ideas: an intelligible fabric wherein each element is threaded to every other—every junction and knot opening itself up to further analysis and explanation in light of the whole.

Abstractly considered, reason seems to distance itself from anything reminiscent of faith—an innocent seeming which disposes us to judge faith as hostile to reason. Furthermore, this judgment can quickly solidify into an unspoken conscious attitude—an explicit rejection of the possibility of any interpenetration or ecumenism between the two. So understood, any eirenicon between reason and faith threatens to introduce stains, discolorations, and abrasions into the systematic tapestry that reason has crafted for itself.  

Again, at first glance, reason appears to get along just fine without recourse to leaps of faith, ungrounded revelations, or any authorities other than itself. Indeed, reason affects us so deeply that we are left with the impression that it is an all-seeing arbitrator—being the one, lone standard by means of which all authorities are weighed and measured. Nevertheless, these seemings, appearances, and impressions are, upon thorough analysis, delusive—all being products of vicious abstraction. The light of reason and the agency of faith are, in fact, the systolic and diastolic beats of a single pulse in the life of mind. Indeed, as John Scotus Eriugena reminds us, “there can be no doubt that both spring from a common source…”⁴

We began this essay with the assertion that “reason runs on the rails of faith.” This idea has been disputed and challenged by many. In order to better understand reason’s indebtedness to faith, it is necessary to penetrate into the heart of reason’s claim to be the “measure of all things”—requiring neither assistance, nor supplementation, from anything other than itself. This can be done with help from the following illustration:

Take, for instance, a Geiger counter, a thermometer, and a clock. How are we to determine whether or not the measurements of these diverse instruments are accurate as opposed to delusive? The answer is that we must compare the readings, and calibrate the instruments, in relation to a standard. The question then becomes what this standard is. Usually, the calibration of these instruments involves comparing and correlating their respective readings to those of another instrument of the same respective type. Thus, the Geiger counter’s readings are adjusted and corrected in light of the readings of another Geiger counter; the thermometer’s readings in light of the readings of another thermometer; and the clock’s readings (e.g., the position of the hour, minute, and second hand) in light of the readings of another clock (e.g., a digital watch). However, a problem arises as soon as we ask if the instruments belonging to the second set give us accurate measurements of radioactivity, outside temperature, and time of day. There are three possible options available: (a) compare and calibrate the second set of instruments in relation to the first set—thereby treating the first set as the standard, (b) compare and calibrate the second set of instruments in relation to a third set—thereby treating the third set of instruments as the standard, and (c) compare and calibrate the second set of instruments in relation to a standard that has been arbitrarily determined and whose accuracy cannot itself be called into question. Now, (a) entangles us in a vicious circle, and (b) launches us into a vicious regress.⁵ The only option that we have left is (c). To answer our question, “How do we know that the instruments belonging to the second set give us accurate measurements of radioactivity, outside temperature, and time of day,” we would have to expose the Geiger counter to a known and well-defined quantity of radioactive matter, introduce the thermometer into an environment with a known and controlled temperature, and synchronize the hands of the clock with signals from an atomic clock.

These examples illustrate reason’s capacity for “rising above” and “enveloping” the measurement-situation. Reason “transcends” the instruments, their respective readings, the measurable quantities, and the respective standards in terms of which the instrument readings are compared. Without this power, reason would be unable to either recognize, evaluate, or determine whether or not the instruments were providing accurate or delusive measurements.

In light of this vignette, suppose that reason asks the following question: “Is reason capable of knowing and understanding what is real and true?” How can reason go about answering this question? What appropriate steps, methods, or tools does reason have at its disposal? For consider, when reason asked itself whether the Geiger counter, thermometer, and clock were delivering accurate measurements of radioactivity, outside temperature, and time of day, reason could arrive at an answer by comparing and evaluating the instruments’ respective measurements in relation to an independent and predefined standard of reference. In all three cases, the “authoritative” standard, or reference point, is one that reason has defined for its own purpose: this purpose being reason’s attainment of a universalizable, systematic, coherent, and explicable account of innumerable things and processes (e.g., radioactive, thermal, and temporal phenomena, etc.). Furthermore, reason could evaluate the reliability of the three instruments only insofar as the instruments, their readings, the measurable quantities, and the “authoritative” standards were all given together on a level; or, to use a metaphor, all of these phenomena were circumscribed within reason’s “visual field.” However, just as the bodily eye cannot see itself, it seems that the relation between reason and the world (i.e., a relation in virtue of which reason has the capacity to know the world), will forever evade the “diamond net” of reason.

On the one hand, reason cannot prove its own efficacy—reason cannot argue its way to the conclusion that it is capable of knowing and understanding what is real and true. Reason cannot make its case by means of deductive, inductive, or abductive inferences. Indeed, if reason were to do such a thing, it would be arguing in a circle—pointing to instances of its own past and present activity (i.e., hand-picked instances having been evaluated, and deemed appropriate, by reason itself) and appealing to them as demonstrative evidence of reason’s own competence (or lack thereof). This circularity is no different from the attempt to determine the accuracy of the second Geiger counter, the second thermometer, and the second clock by comparing their respective readings to the first Geiger counter, the first thermometer, and the first clock—the first”⁶ set of instruments being the “authoritative” standard in relation to which the accuracy or inaccuracy of the second set of instruments are judged.   

On the other hand, reason cannot criticize its own efficacy—reason cannot argue its way to the conclusion that it is incapable of knowing and understanding what is real and true:

“To do so would require a second species of thought to sit in judgment upon our first or actual thought, and a third thought to test the validity of the verdict thus obtained, and so on ad infinitum—a species of never-ending appeal as wearisome as fruitless.”⁷

This regress is no different from the attempt to determine the accuracy or inaccuracy of the second Geiger counter, the second thermometer, and the second clock by comparing their respective readings to a third set of instruments whose accuracy or inaccuracy can be determined only in relation to a fourth set, and so on, ad infinitum—leaving us forever in the dark as to whether or not the second set of instruments deliver accurate measurements of radioactivity, outside temperature, and time of day.

Reason, unlike a Geiger counter, thermometer, or clock, is not a thing among things. Furthermore, reason does not exist in vacuo—it is nothing apart from its content: it requires a substantial “filling.” In a word, reason demands a world—a world that admits of being subject to reason’s various organizing and systematizing activities; and, prima facie, reason’s demand for a world appears to be fulfilled. However, couldn’t this apparent communion be delusive? After all, the abstract, logical scaffolding of reason’s implicative and entailment relations cannot, of themselves, disclose any harmony (or lack thereof) between reason and reality without either rotating round and round in circles, or shooting off into an infinite regress. And, if this is so, it appears that reason can neither prove, nor disprove, that it harbors within itself the capacity for knowing and understanding the real and the true. What, then, is the powerful force moves reason to confidently declare that it is “the eye with which the universe beholds itself and knows itself divine?”⁸ Indeed, what is the nature of the unfaltering impulse that leads the mind to affirm that reason envelops reality, or, indeed, to exclaim that what is rational is real; and what is real is rational? We must answer that it is a theoretical assumption—an unwavering conviction that cannot be established, justified, or scrutinized by any of the tools that the rational intellect has forged for itself. Although this assumption is of a theoretical sort, it should not be mistaken for a static premise; on the contrary, it is rather a movement—a galvanizing act that is of profound metaphysical significance. As F.H. Bradley and Bernard Bosanquet expertly put it:

“You may call the intellect, if you like, a mere tendency to movement, but you must remember that it is a movement of a very special kind....In thought the standard, you may say, amounts merely to “act so”; but then “act so” means “think so,” and “think so” means “it is.” And the psychological origin and base of this movement, and of this inability to act otherwise, may be anything you please; for that is all utterly irrelevant to the metaphysical issue. Thinking is the attempt to satisfy a special impulse, and the attempt implies an assumption about reality. You may avoid the assumption so far as you decline to think, but, if you sit down to the game, there is only one way of playing. In order to think at all you must subject yourself to a standard, a standard which implies an absolute knowledge of reality; and while you doubt this, you accept to, and obey while you rebel.”⁹ 

“Thought will go forward if it possibly can. It will affirm meanings; an order or connexion which is one side of meaning. This might be called a non-formal principle. The laws of logic and other axioms are merely, I suggest, the expression of our elementary experiments in actual thinking at different points of our experience....If we are not allowed to think, we are not allowed to exercise the act which these pervading laws need for their establishment. They are not premises. They are principles evident throughout our thinking as the manners of its self-assertion....But if thought is forbidden to proceed, the principle cannot be established. This is not a “psychological” necessity. It is a necessity of the nature of reality which is thought’s function and character to reveal. How do we know it is thought’s function and character to do so? Because every act of thought says so. Thought, in asserting, does not say “I think so”. It says “it is so”. “I think so” is merely one case of “it is so,” and is as absolute as any other assertion of a fact about reality.”¹⁰ 

Reason operates through a conviction—a mode of revelation that stands on its own authority and is incapable of being captured within the “diamond net” that reason casts, and cannot help but cast, upon the world. Faith—faith in the affirmation that reality and truth are appreciable by reason—envelops and saturates the entirety of our intellectual life; indeed, it dictates the normative ideal which reason finds itself compelled to follow in its effort to know and understand the world. Augustine writes that “we must first believe whatever great and divine matter we desire to understand. Else would the Prophet have said in error, Except ye believe, ye shall not understand;”¹¹ likewise, we must affirm—through an act of faith—that there is a harmony between reason and the world, in order for us to understand the world.

Footnotes:

^[1] Augustine, “Self-Knowledge and the Three-Fold Nature of Mind,” essay, in The Longman Standard History of Medieval Philosophy, ed. Daniel Kolak and Garrett Thompson (New York, NY: Pearson Education Inc., 2008), 28–34, 29.

^[2] Augustine, The Essential Augustine, ed. Vernon J. Bourke (Indianapolis: Hackett Pub. Co., 1974), 25.

^[3] Cf. Brand Blanshard, Reason and Analysis (La Salle, IL: Open Court, 1964), 25-26.

^[4] John Scotus Eriugena, Philosophy, Faith, and Reason, n.d., 114.

^[5] Since the accuracy, or inaccuracy, of the first set of instruments had been judged by comparing their respective readings to those belonging to the second set, it would be viciously circular to then evaluate the accuracy of the second set of instruments by comparing their respective readings to those belonging to the first set of instruments.

^[6] “One cannot in strictness speak of testing a thing by itself.” Cf. Richard Lewis Nettleship, Philosophical Lectures and Remains of Richard Lewis Nettleship, ed. A.C. Bradley and G.R. Benson, vol. I, II vols. (London, England: Macmillan and Co., Ltd., 1897), 181.

^[7] Andrew Seth Pringle-Pattison, Hegelianism and Personality, 2nd ed. (London, England: William Blackwood and Sons, 1893), 90.

^[8] F.H. Bradley, Appearance and Reality: A Metaphysical Essay (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002), 152-153.

^[9] Bernard Bosanquet, “‘This or Nothing,’” Mind, New Series, XXXI, no. 122 (April 1922): 178–184, 180-181.

^[10] Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Hymn of Apollo,” essay, in The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, vol. III (Boston, MA: Little, Brown and Co., 1855), 52–53, 53.

^[11] Augustine, The Essential Augustine, 24.