The Protestant Reformation and the Scientific Revolution occurred and unfolded almost simultaneously—people discovered this obvious fact long ago and tried to guess at the inner connection between the two. Beginning with Francis Bacon, many tended to treat praise of science as part of an argument for the superiority of Protestantism. This raises a question: although there is clearly some connection between the Reformation and the Scientific Revolution, how exactly did that connection arise? And to what extent was it related to the differences between Protestantism and Catholicism? This essay will make some very preliminary inquiries into this question.
The most conservative conclusion is this: Protestantism was more conducive to scientific development than Catholicism in the sense that it posed fewer obstacles. This is indeed a fact. But the significance of this point should not be exaggerated. Protestantism was not necessarily much more tolerant of heresy than Catholicism. Catholicism burned Bruno at the stake, but Calvin also burned Servetus, the astronomer and anatomist who discovered pulmonary circulation in the blood. Of course, neither Bruno nor Servetus was executed because of the science they upheld, but because of their religious heresies, such as anti-Trinitarian mysticism or Unitarianism.
We even have reason to believe that, during the period of the Reformation, Catholicism contributed more than Protestantism to scientific education and the dissemination of science. The Jesuits, despite making many enemies, had educational institutions that even Protestants had to admire, and some Protestant educational reformers admitted that the level of knowledge was “greatly promoted and strengthened” by Jesuit schools. Francis Bacon even exclaimed, “If only these schools were ours!” At the same time, in spreading the faith across the globe, the Jesuits also greatly promoted the spread of science; China’s earliest contact with Western astronomy and mathematics likewise came through Jesuits such as Matteo Ricci.
Another perspective is to examine Protestant and Catholic attitudes toward the emerging scientific doctrines of the time, but this angle seems to yield limited results. Although Copernican theory was taught in Protestant schools much earlier than it was taught to Catholics, this does not prove that Protestants were more readily able to accept Copernican theory. Luther and Calvin both openly expressed contempt for heliocentrism, and the first to raise strong objections to heliocentrism were also Protestants; meanwhile, the Catholic Church’s final condemnation of Copernicus as a heretic was to a large extent under pressure from Protestants. In fact, the factors influencing people’s acceptance of a given scientific theory are complex, and it is hard for us to discern any fundamental difference in temperament between Protestantism and Catholicism. Copernicus’s system, though Catholic, may have been more warmly received by Protestants, while Tycho’s system, though Protestant, was more readily adopted by Jesuit scholars; the astronomical revolution may have been accepted more quickly by Protestants, whereas the subsequent rise of atomism seems to have put Catholics more in the lead, and even today the strongest resistance to the theory of biological evolution comes from Protestant forces in the United States. In short, it is difficult to judge who is more tolerant or more open by looking at the reception of scientific theories.
Examining the religious backgrounds of the important scientists of the revolutionary period seems likewise unable to tell us much—Copernicus and Galileo were Catholics, while Tycho and Kepler were Protestants. Although by the later phase of the Scientific Revolution Protestant scientists clearly held the advantage, this still does not suffice to prove Protestant superiority. To put it one step further, even if we say that Protestantism indeed promoted technological and scientific development in practice, that still would not be evidence for praising the cultural value of Protestantism. For example, we say that the invasion of China by the Eight-Nation Alliance did, in fact, promote China’s modernization, yet we would never praise the Eight-Nation Alliance on that basis.
All of the perspectives above proceed from various external manifestations—such as examining the degree to which Protestantism and Catholicism tolerated, accepted, or promoted science—and we find that none of them suffices to distinguish their relative merits. Perhaps it is more meaningful to examine the inner connection between the Protestant Reformation and the Scientific Revolution. That is to say, we can first examine what new changes Protestantism brought in terms of doctrine and dogma, and then discuss whether these changes were more favorable to science.
Protestant theological innovation is reflected in its new answers to the following questions: “How are we saved?”—not by good works, but by faith alone; “Where is authority?”—not in the Church, but in Scripture alone; “What is the Church?”—all are priests; “What is life for?”—to serve God in all useful callings, with no distinction between sacred and secular.
People have found that all four of these claims, in one way or another, promoted science. First, Protestantism made “strengthening faith” the core of religious practice. And because people regarded the “book of nature” as God’s perfect work, exploring nature meant experiencing more deeply the perfection of nature and thereby deepening one’s reverence for God’s mighty power. Thus scientific inquiry was given sacred significance. Second, depriving the Church of authority and embracing the notion that all are priests meant that Protestantism placed greater emphasis on individual understanding, enabling scholars to think independently and comment more freely. Finally, the so-called Protestant ethic made secular work more highly valued, and scientific activity—especially practical scientific achievements—also received more attention.
These are indeed positive effects of the Protestant Reformation on scientific development, but it is worth pointing out that we still must not exaggerate their positive significance. In fact, each of the above effects has two sides. First, the sacredness of exploring nature certainly inspired the investigative zeal of many scientists, including Newton, but it also encouraged what is called “natural theology,” that is, the attempt to explain faith through science and to prove God by means of science. Yet this method is a constraint on both science and theology alike—for theological doctrine can never keep pace with the ever-changing progress of science, and it is hard to succeed whether one tries to make theology accommodate science or science accommodate theology. Second, depriving the Church of authority did indeed grant more individual freedom, but the doctrine of Scripture alone also brought the danger of conservatism. Although Luther and Calvin did not advocate a literal reading of Scripture, it is also a fact that later generations increasingly became fixated on the literal wording of Scripture in argument. Protestant debates were perhaps more easily constrained by biblical phrasing than the debates of scholastic philosophers, and the most conservative modern religious currents such as Evangelicalism and fundamentalism also all arose from Protestantism. Finally, the Protestant ethic’s exaltation of utility and practicality did indeed promote certain applied sciences, but the utilitarian tendency also caused modern science to deviate from the ancient Greek spirit of science that was free, pure, and beyond utility, giving rise to the expansion of technical rationality and to the emergence of various crises of modernity.
The above analysis does not give any clear explanation of the connection between the Scientific Revolution and the Reformation; rather, it mainly reveals the complexity of that connection. The connection undoubtedly exists, but any examination of it must be cautious and avoid those hasty conclusions that simply claim that some religion is especially favorable to science, or that arbitrarily assert that some religion is more stubbornly conservative. No matter what religion it is, it will have both promoting and restraining effects on scientific development. Rather than attributing the Reformation’s contribution to the Scientific Revolution to Protestantism’s distinctive claims, it would be better to say that the conflict between Protestantism and Catholicism itself catalyzed certain advances in science and social change.
This essay mainly refers to Brooke’s Science and Religion, with secondary reference to A History of the Christian Church, Christianity and Western Thought, and several works on the history of science. Where there are indirect quotations, I have not provided detailed notes for the moment.
January 1, 2007, 3:51 p.m.
Yangroupaoju
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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