On the same note as my previous post regarding C.S. Lewis’ refutation of naturalism, I continue with another philosopher and his illustration refuting this epistemologically irresponsible worldview.

In a book first published in 1963, American philosopher Richard Taylor (his book is named Metaphysics) presented an argument pointing to an additional problem with metaphysical naturalism. Taylor introduced his argument with an example that bid his readers to imagine themselves in a coach on a British train. Looking out the window, the passengers see a large number of white stones on a hillside lying in a pattern that spells out the letters: THE BRITISH RAILWAYS WELCOMES YOU TO WALES. Should the passengers be in a reflective mood on such an occasion, they might begin to contemplate how those stones happened to be in that particular arrangement. It is possible that, without any intelligent being having anything to do with it, the stones rolled down the hillside over a period of many years and happened to end up in an arrangement that resembled the letters noted. However implausible we find this hypothesis, we must admit that such a thing is possible. Of course, Taylor says, the most natural reaction to seeing the stones would be a conviction that the arrangement of stones was brought about by one or more humans who intended it to communicate a message. And so there are at least two explanations for the arrangement of the stones: a natural, non-purposive explanation, and an explanation in terms of the intentions of at least one intelligent being.

Taylor’s next step in the development of his argument is critical. Suppose, he suggests, that the passengers decide, solely on the basis of stones they see on the hillside, that they are in fact entering Wales. Taylor does not insist that the purposive account of the stones is the true one. His argument is purely hypothetical. If the passengers infer that the stones communicate a true message and that they are entering Wales, it would be inconsistent for them also to assume that the positioning of the stones was an accident. Once you conclude that the stones convey an intelligible message, Taylor continues,

you would, in fact, be presupposing that they were arranged that way by an intelligent and purposeful being or beings for the purpose of conveying a certain message having nothing to do with the stones themselves. Another way of expressing the same point is that it would be irrational for you to regard the arrangement of the stones as evidence that you were entering Wales, and at the same time to suppose that they might have come to have that arrangement accidentally, that is, as the result of the ordinary interaction of natural or physical forces. If, for instance, they came to be so arranged over the course of time, simply by rolling down the hill, one by one, and finally just happening to end up that way, or if they were strewn upon the ground that way by the forces of any earthquake or storm or what-not, then their arrangement would in no sense constitute evidence that you were entering Wales, or for anything whatever unconnected with themselves.

Taylor’s analysis thus far seems correct. If I were a passenger and if I thought the arrangement of the stones were a result of chance, natural forces, there would be something bizarre about my also believing, solely on the evidence provided by the stones, that I was entering Wales. But if I concluded, solely on the evidence provided by the stones, that I was entering Wales, consistency would seem to require that I also believe the arrangement of the stones was not an accident.

What does this have to do with a human being’s making an intelligent choice between theism and metaphysical naturalism? Taylor invites us to consider similar reasoning about our cognitive faculties:

Just as it is possible for a collection of stones to present a novel and interesting arrangement on the side of a hill…so also it is possible for such things as our own organs of sense to be the accidental and unintended results, over ages of time, of perfectly impersonal, non-purposeful forces. In fact, ever so many biologists believe that this is precisely what has happened, that our organs of sense are in no real sense purposeful things, but only appear so because of our failure to consider how they might have arisen through the normal workings of nature.

In the case of the stones, the fact that they exhibited a particular shape or pattern did not constitute proof that there was purpose or intention behind the arrangement. Likewise, Taylor observes, “the mere complexity, refinement, and seemingly purposeful arrangement of our sense organs do not, accordingly, constitute any conclusive reason for supposing that they are the outcome of any purposeful activity. A natural, non-purposeful explanation of them is possible, and has been attempted – successfully, in the opinion of many.” It appears as though any metaphysical naturalist would have to pursue this kind of non-purposeful account of human cognitive faculties.

Taylor then points to the problem in the naturalist’s position. Even those persons who view their sense organs as the product of chance, natural, and non-purposeful forces depend on them to deliver information about the world that they regard as true. “We suppose, without even thinking about it, that [our sense organs] reveal to us things that have nothing to do with themselves, their structures, or their origins.” Such people, Taylor thinks, are just as inconsistent as the person who derives a true message from a non-purposeful arrangement of stones.

It would be irrational for one to say both that his sensory and cognitive faculties had a natural, non-purposeful origin and also that they reveal some truth with respect to something other than themselves, something that is not merely inferred from them. If their origin can be entirely accounted for in terms of chance variations, natural selection, and so on, without supposing that they somehow embody and express the purposes of some creative being, then the most we can say of them is that they exist, that they are complex and wondrous in their construction, and are perhaps in other respects interesting and remarkable. We cannot say that they are, entirely by themselves, reliable guides to any truth whatever, save only what can be inferred from their won structure and arrangement. If, on the other hand, we do assume that they are guyides to some truths having nothing to do with themselves, then it is difficult to see how we can, consistently with that supposition, believe them to have arisen by accident, or by the ordinary workings of purposeless forces, even over ages of time.

Naturalists seem caught in a trap. If they are consistent with their naturalistic presuppositions, they must assume that our human cognitive faculties are a product of chance, purposeless forces. But if this is so, naturalists appear inconsistent when they place so much trust in those faculties. But like the passengers on the train, if they assume that their cognitive faculties are trustworthy and do provide accurate information about the world, they seem compelled to abandon one of the cardinal presuppositions of metaphysical naturalism and conclude that their cognitive faculties were formed as a result of the activity of some purposeful, intelligent agent.