Richard Dawkins Hates Beauty! (Well, not quite, but he’s not convinced by the Argument from Beauty) (Part 10)

In the past two posts, we’ve looked at Richard Dawkins’ attempt to discredit the five “proofs” for God’s existence that medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas came up with. We saw that instead of trying to even understand the actual arguments Aquinas was making, Dawkins chose to simply scoff and dismiss them. This tactic is actually surprisingly effective if you are addressing people who don’t know anything about Aquinas themselves, and are already inclined to reject anything that smells of “religion.” Of course, when you do that, you haven’t really argued or proved anything—you’ve just preached to a choir who doesn’t know how to read music.

My, My, My it’s a Beautiful World…So What?
In any case, in today’s post we will look at what Richard Dawkins has to say about the Argument from Beauty. The traditional argument is basically says, whether it be the poetry of Shakespeare, the music of Beethoven, or the artistry of Van Gogh, such beauty points to something or someone beyond mere natural existence. What Dawkins says about this argument, I find to be highly entertaining and rather mystifying.

Dawkins’ initially comments in the following manner: “Obviously Beethoven’s late quartets are sublime. So are Shakespeare’s sonnets. They are sublime if God is there and they are sublime if he isn’t. They do not prove the existence of God; they prove the existence of Beethoven and of Shakespeare” (110). Though technically true in and of itself, Dawkins’ comment nevertheless misses the entire point of the argument. Evidently he thinks that someone who makes this argument from beauty is trying to make a scientific proof.

Obviously Beethoven’s music was written by Beethoven. Obviously Shakespeare’s sonnets were written by Shakespeare. It should also be just as obvious that  the argument from beauty is not attempting to be a scientific argument. The point is that things like poetry, music, art—the things that human do not share with the rest of the created order—point to something that is not part of the created order. That is the specific point that Dawkins just doesn’t get.

Everything else—breathing, sex, excrement, eating, etc.—human beings share with the rest of the natural order. We see these actions in the created order with other creatures that are not human. But when it comes to poetry, music, or art—these are things that we do not see in the animal kingdom, the plant kingdom, or anywhere else in the created order. Therefore, the argument goes, there is an indication that there must be something or someone else that we share such things with. If poetry, music, and art were just part of the natural order, we should see them elsewhere in nature—but we don’t. They are unique to human beings, therefore, it would seem that human beings are unique, and share something that isn’t part of the normal created order. That would thus indicate something beyond nature, possibly a higher being or reality.

Dawkins seems to be getting hung up on the very word “argument.” He apparently cannot see the difference between saying something like art and poetry indicates the possibility of a reality beyond the created order, and that they prove in some scientific sense the existence of God.

Where’s My Concerto to Photosynthesis?
In any case, within his discussion regarding the argument from beauty, Dawkins says something that is truly astounding. Try to read the following quote without developing a smirk.

“Even great artists have to earn a living, and they will take commissions where they are to be had. I have no reason to doubt that Raphael and Michelangelo were Christians—it was pretty much the only option in their time—but the fact is almost incidental. …If history had worked out differently, and Michelangelo had been commissioned to paint a ceiling for a giant Museum of Science, mightn’t he have produced something at least as inspirational as the Sistine Chapel? How sad that we shall never hear Beethoven’s “Mesozoic Symphony,” or Mozart’s opera “The Expanding Universe. And what a shame that we are deprived of Haydn’s “Evolution Oratorio” (111).

The absurdities in that one statement alone are mystifying. First of all, Dawkins says that the only reason why Raphael and Michelangelo were Christians was because they had no other options. This goes along with another historical canard that the New Atheist Movement loves to trot out from time to time: the only reason why men like Raphael, Michelangelo, or Galileo were Christians was because “back then” Christianity simply killed anyone who said they didn’t believe in God. If you challenge them and say, “Wait, there’s no record of Christianity engaging in mass killings of atheists in the Middle Ages,” they will then reply, “Of course not. The atheists knew they would be killed, so they pretended to be Christians in order to stay alive.”

So what’s the “evidence” for such a claim? Easy, the fact there were no mass killings proves their point. I’m sorry, that makes about as much sense as Ken Ham claiming Noah had access to advance technology, but we don’t have any evidence of it because the flood destroyed it all.

In any case, Dawkins is clearly implying that if Raphael and Michelangelo were alive today, they most certainly would be atheists. How does Dawkins know this? Simple: he doesn’t. His starting point for assessing people is (A) if they are smart or artistic, then (B) they simply CANNOT be Christians of their own will. That’s a pretty astounding assumption. Again, we can see a similarity to Ken Ham, when he says the only reason why scientists reject young earth creationism is not because they are convinced by the evidence, but rather because they really are in rebellion against God and want to live lives of selfish debauchery.

In all seriousness, I am not making this stuff up. Arguments based on assumptions with silence as the only “evidence” are not arguments at all—they are attempts to further manipulate willfully ignorant people.

But let’s look at the second part of Dawkins’ statement: “Mesozoic Symphony”? The “Expanding Universe” opera? The “Evolution Oratorio”? I’m sorry, but being a literature major, I have to say that if I came across a poem that started with, “Oh photosynthesis, how you turn sunlight into energy! Oh photosynthesis, such yearning for a plant’s emitting oxygen!” I’d skip it. The reason should be obvious. It’s rather boring. Now, don’t get offended if you are really into science. I’m just stating what should be obvious: the things that inspire art, poetry, and music are not the scientific descriptions of how things work. If you want to get pumped up for a football game, you’re going to listen to AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.” You’re not going to pop open a Biology textbook. (Perhaps that’s not the best example, but the point should be clear).

That is why the entire argument from beauty points to a God. If we were simply products of blind, evolutionary, undirected, materialistic processes, then there would be no desire in us to worship. And worship is essentially what poetry, music, and art are—forms of worship and creativity. The thing that is makes poetry, music, and art special and unique is that they start with something in ordinary life, like a chair, a bird (and who know? Maybe even photosynthesis!), and they proceed to interpret, and dare I say, even transform that thing into something more, something that goes beyond mere nature. Hence, the very reality and purpose of the arts and beauty indicate that there is a reality beyond mere nature. That’s the heart of the argument.

This unique ability human beings have, although expressed within the natural world, simply bear witness to something that is beyond the natural world. Poetry, art, and music are windows to a greater reality than the natural world, and human beings not only display creative means to order and cultivate the natural world, but they also display a creative and sacramental tendency to sanctify it. This is what we find in Genesis 1-2, where human beings are created “in the image of God,” and are designated by God to both “rule over creation” and act as priests who serve and cultivate creation. This is a factual reality that we simply cannot get away from. Therefore, no matter how hard Dawkins tries, his arguments are hollow.

One More Thing: No Hamlet?
Shortly after the above quote, Dawkins also says the following: “What if…Shakespeare had been obliged to work commissions from the Church? We’d surely have lost “Hamlet,” “King Lear,” and “Macbeth.” And what would we have gained in return? Such stuff as dreams are made on? Dream on” (111). Being a fan of Shakespeare (and the Church), I couldn’t let Dawkins’ final comment go ignored.

What Dawkins is essentially saying is this: “It’s a good thing the Church didn’t commission Shakespeare! If it did, I’m sure he’d have produced mindless drivel–certainly not great works like ‘Hamlet’ or ‘King Lear.'” Of course, this is quite a bold, and baseless assumption. I am reminded of what my Shakespeare professor once said, “You wont’ be able to understand Shakespeare unless you read the King James Bible.” He was stating an obvious fact that Dawkins doesn’t seem to acknowledge. Despite all of Dawkins’ diatribes against the “evils” of religion (which he characterizes as everything in religion), he cannot even bring himself to acknowledge clear artistic masterpieces…like Shakespeare’s play, or Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel…that were clearly inspired by the Christian faith. Sure, Shakespeare wasn’t directly commissioned by the Church, but the Christian worldview comes through on every page of his plays. And for that matter, Michelangelo’s work was commissioned by the Church.

Despite what Dawkins is trying to claim, the exact opposite is true: the great artistic masterpieces of Western culture came about precisely because of the inspiration and influence of the Christian faith, not despite of it.