Ladies and gentlemen,
my name is Ian Young,
and I'm the Vice Chancellor
of the Australian National
University.
I'd like to begin by
acknowledging and celebrating
the first Australians on whose
traditional lands we meet,
and whose cultures are
among the oldest continuing
cultures in human history.
It is a pleasure to
welcome you this evening
to the Australian
National University,
and to introduce our
esteemed guests--
Professor Richard
Dawkins in conversation
with Professor Lawrence Krauss.
Tonight's event is sponsored
by the ANU Colleges of Science,
and Cosmos magazine.
This evening we
have an opportunity
to hear from one of the
most influential scientists
and public intellectuals
of our time.
Professor Richard Dawkins is
the Charles Simonyi Professor
of Public Understanding
of Science
at the University of Oxford.
He is the author of nine
books, including The Selfish
Gene, and The God
Delusion, and his works
have been published in
more than 30 languages.
A fellow of both the Royal
Society and the Royal Society
of literature, Richard
has honorary doctorates
of literature, as
well as science,
including an honorary
doctorate from the ANU.
In 2006, he established the
Richard Dawkins Foundation
for Reason and
Science to provide
the scientific education,
critical thinking,
and evidence-based understanding
of the natural world.
Tonight Richard Dawkins will
talk with Professor Lawrence
Krauss.
Professor Krauss is
foundation professor
in the School of Earth and Space
Exploration at Arizona State
University.
He's also authored a number of
bestselling books, including
A Universe from Nothing.
He is a visiting fellow at ANU,
and has been a regular visitor
over the past few years.
And it is a great pleasure to
welcome him back here to ANU.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please join me
in welcoming our speakers,
Richard Dawkins and Lawrence
Krauss.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you very much.
It's a great pleasure for
both of us to be here.
We're actually beginning
an Australian tour here
in Canberra.
We'll be here and in Sydney.
And we'll be closing off,
actually, at the Sydney Opera
House on Monday.
And in the middle, we'll both
be attending the Global Atheist
Convention in Melbourne, the
largest convention of atheists
in the world.
I should begin with some
housekeeping details.
First of all, the way
this is going to work
is that Richard and I are
going to have a conversation.
And we'll talk about
that in a minute.
And then after we're
finished, the floor
will be open for questions.
And there are microphones at
either end of the auditorium,
and also up in the second level.
So you don't have to jump down.
And we'll go on as long as
the questions are interesting.
[LAUGHTER]
And the format of
the conversation
is somewhat unusual, perhaps.
But about five years
ago, Richard and I
were asked to speak together
at Stanford University
in the United States.
And Richard insisted that we
do it without a moderator.
Because, as he pointed
out, moderators always
stop things just when
they're getting interesting.
So we've tried to have
some conversations
without a moderator.
And that's what we're
going to do tonight.
And we're never quite certain
where they're going to go.
And we will see.
We have some ideas of
topics we'd like to discuss.
But we'll see where they go.
I actually want
to begin, Richard,
speaking of
moderators, some of you
may have watched TV last night.
[LAUGHTER]
Did you see Q&A, a few of you?
Yes.
Well, it was an
interesting-- well,
I don't know if "interesting"
is the way to describe it.
But it was a program
that I want to spend
a little time talking about.
And maybe you might
want to comment
on some of your concerns
about that program.
Well, I suppose my first concern
arose when I was announced,
and the audience went
[TEPID APPLAUSE]
And then Cardinal Pell was
announced, and they went, "Rah!
Rah!
Rah!"
And I couldn't help feeling
that this was not exactly
a representative
audience of Australia.
And I don't know how the studio
audience is chosen for Q&A.
But I had my suspicions
at the time, which
I think have rather been
confirmed, that there was
some fairly smart
footwork, which
I suppose they're
rather good at,
and maybe we're not so good at.
And maybe we should--
--learn how to
stack the audience.
Or learn how it's done.
You've got to be a
bit politically savvy.
But I think that
more importantly,
going back to your point,
Lawrence, about moderators.
I really did think last night
the moderator got in the way.
Because we could have had
a searching conversation,
which I would have enjoyed.
But just as it got going, and
just as the Archbishop had
dealt himself enough
rope to hang himself,
the moderator jumped in with
moving on to the next question,
and, as it were, rescued
him in the nick of time.
And so I thought that that was a
fairly good illustration of why
we don't want moderators.
And the same thing
happened, oddly enough,
in England a few weeks ago,
when I had a similar onstage
conversation-- not
televised, in this case--
with the Archbishop of
Canterbury, who dare I say,
by contrast, is a
very, very nice man.
And once again there
was a moderator
who kept on getting in the way.
In that case, it wasn't
to get the next question
from the audience.
In that case it was to utter
some philosophical profundity,
which didn't actually
help matters along.
But I've noticed again and again
that chairmen get in the way.
And it's better,
if you can do it,
to have just a
plain conversation.
He certainly did save,
on a number of occasions,
save the cardinal, who it was
my first experience listening
to the man.
He seemed totally
devoid of intellect.
[APPLAUSE]
It's true.
I was shocked.
I was shocked.
And what I thought
we might do is
because of he demonstrated
a number of misconceptions
about science, as well as
religion as far as I could see.
And hadn't thought
much about it either.
And I thought we might want to
fill in some of the gaps that
happened last night.
For example, I was amazed with
his understanding of evolution.
Or--
Well, yes.
The chairman asked him, did
he accept that humans were
descended from apes, I think.
Yeah.
That's the way he put it.
And he said, yes,
from Neanderthals.
We're not descended
from Neanderthals.
We're cousins of Neanderthals.
I told him that.
So he said, more or
less, well, how can we
be cousins if they're extinct?
I actually, at that point,
and I think he then asked you,
have you ever met a Neanderthal?
And I must admit I
would have just said
I'm talking to one right now.
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]
But you know, that's--
But I think is
one of the biggest
misconceptions about evolution,
in the sense of how it works.
And the idea of speciation, it's
a very non-intuitive concept,
which is one of the reasons
that I think many people
have problems with
evolution as a concept.
Because it doesn't happen
on a human time scale.
And I've testified before
school boards in the United
States about trying to keep
evolution in the schools, which
are constantly there's a battle
all the time to try and get rid
of evolution.
And I'm always
told, why aren't I
seeing apes turn into
humans right now?
Yeah.
And it's a constant harangue.
So maybe you want to talk
a little bit about that.
Well, that is one of
the commonest things.
"I'll believe in
evolution when I see
a monkey turning into a human."
It's as though they think
it happens overnight.
And it is true that
it's very, very hard
to grasp the sheer immensity of
the time scale that's involved.
We as humans are used to a
time scale of years, decades.
Centuries we can
just about cope with.
Even millennia.
But then millennia start to
feel a bit kind of mysterious,
and lost in the mists of time.
A million years is something
we can't really grasp.
100 million years is
something completely
beyond our comprehension.
And there have been various
attempts to dramatize it,
things like representing the
whole of the span of life by 24
hour clock, and humans appear--
don't know what it is--
five minutes before
midnight, or whatever it is.
And another one is when
you hold out your arm,
and you say the middle of your
neck is the origin of life,
and then it's all bacteria
out to about there.
And then dinosaurs
come in about there.
And fossil humans that are
recognizably Homo sapiens
come in about the tip
of your fingernail.
And the whole of human history,
the whole of recorded history--
the Egyptians, the Babylonians,
the Assyrians, the Hebrews,
the Romans, the Greeks,
all falls in the dust
of one stroke of the nail file.
That's not my own.
That's somebody else's.
But I think it's
rather a good one.
And you can't really get
to grips with evolution
unless you realize what
an enormous amount of time
that there is.
And it's quite clear, I think,
that the cardinal didn't really
understand, that we are actually
descended not just from apes,
but we're descended from fish.
We're descended from bacteria.
But also even the
question, I thought,
by the way it was
put by the moderator,
"we're descended
from apes," gives
the impression that we are
descended from creatures
that now exist
contemporaneously, which,
of course, is not the case.
That's one of the
commonest misconceptions.
And you hear it in
the form of, "Well,
if we're descended
from chimpanzees,
how come there are
still chimpanzees?"
We're not descended
from chimpanzees.
Even if we were,
there's no reason
why they shouldn't
go on living with us.
It doesn't mean they
have to go extinct.
Although we seem to do a very
good job of making things
extinct that are going with us.
Well, that's true.
I mean you could say
if North Americans have
descended from Europeans, how
come there are still Europeans?
Excellent.
Or Australians, for that matter.
Well, I personally took affront
to something the cardinal said.
I bet you did.
Yeah.
Because as ignorant as he was
of biology, what upset me was he
was disingenuously
ignorant about--
and, I thought, ungracious to
you, in fact, in that context.
I mean, there was the question
that came from the audience
where somebody said, I'm
holding nothing in my fist,
and you can't make
something out of nothing.
I mean, which of course was a
reference to Lawrence's book,
Something from Nothing.
The whole point
about modern physics
is that you can't do
it by common sense.
And that's why you
need physicists.
If you could do it by--
Because we have no common sense.
That's really it.
Yeah, if you could do
it by common sense,
you wouldn't need Lawrence.
I'll take that as a
compliment, Richard.
So it is very clear from reading
reviews of your book Something
from Nothing,
well, first of all,
I should say that I was
very proud to have written
the afterword to this book.
I was accused last night by
Cardinal Pell of not having
read the book, because he
said, "You wrote the foreword,
and you evidently
didn't get to the end."
If he had read the book, he'd
have known that I did not
write the foreword.
And in fact that's the thing
that I objected the most.
I don't mind ignorance so much.
It's the illusion of
knowledge that upsets me more.
And in fact, he has to
be held responsible.
And I'm happy we're going
to Sydney, because I
plan to hold him responsible,
for criticizing a book
that he clearly hadn't read.
And that was a
clear example of it.
He quoted verbatim from a review
by a philosopher of my book,
and of course
totally bungled it--
totally distorted it.
But the first part,
he said six pages
before the end of
the book, which
was how this review in
the New York Times began.
But the key idea,
which really is
so difficult, and
I guess challenging
and perhaps threatening to
both some philosophers, as well
as theologians, is this question
of something from nothing.
It happens in the case, as
I think we've talked about
before, in biology.
I mean, how do you get
life from non-life?
That was originally sort of
the main theological question.
How do you get
life from non-life?
And even in the original
version of Darwin's book,
he says at the very
end, God breathed life
into the first
species, because--
Only in the first edition.
Only in the first edition.
In the second edition
he leaves out God.
Oh, no.
Other way around.
Yeah, he put it
back in [INAUDIBLE]..
In the first edition
there's no mention of God.
He says "originally
breathed," and then
in the second edition,
and subsequent editions,
he says "by the creator."
But that's a much easier
problem, in a way,
because you're starting
with chemistry.
You start from molecules
bumbling around
in the warm little
pond, as Darwin
called it-- the primeval soup,
as people later called it.
And then you get the first
self-replicating molecule.
But something from nothing,
from literally nothing.
And that's what
really gets people.
That's the one that's really
counter to common sense.
And they clearly misunderstand
what you mean by "nothing."
Well, exactly.
And the problem is
I'm often accused
of not talking about the nothing
that classical philosophers
2,000 years ago, or
theologians talked about.
And the answer
is, I'm not really
interested in their nothing.
I'm interested in
the real nothing.
I'm interested in
asking the question,
based on our understanding
of the universe--
we'll probably get
back to this often--
science changes what
we mean by words.
And it changes that
meaning because we
learn about the universe.
We actually make progress
in science, unlike theology.
And that's because we can
be wrong, and we can learn.
And we learn from the universe.
And I think perhaps the
most offensive thing
I said, and it was
initially at the beginning,
is that something
and nothing are not
theological or
philosophical quantities.
They're physical quantities.
Most people recognize
that something
is a physical quantity,
but they refuse
to accept the idea
that nothing might
be a physical quantity-- somehow
the absence of something.
And so what is
remarkable, and surprising
in some sense, how there's
been a reaction to it,
is in this particular
book, what I
tried to do was not attack
theological notions,
but celebrate our changing
picture of reality,
the amazing discoveries that
have been made over the last 50
years-- some by people here, by
my friend Brian Schmidt here,
who won the Nobel Prize for his
discovery-- that has changed
completely our picture
of the universe,
and made it plausible, the most
remarkable and unexpected thing
you can imagine, that you
could start with absolutely
nothing-- that means,
unlike the cardinal
said, and unlike
some people argue,
no particles, but
not even empty space.
No space whatsoever.
And maybe even no laws
governing that space.
And we can plausibly understand
how you could arrive--
without any miracles, without
any need for a creator,
without any
supernatural creation--
you could produce
everything we see.
And I find that
the fact that it's
plausible remarkable in the
same sense that I think I
found it plausible when I
first learned about evolution.
The amazing fact that the
diversity of life on Earth,
which seems so
designed and complex,
could arise from so
simple a beginning.
These two things are both
extraordinarily exciting,
intriguing, enthralling.
Clearly life is.
Clearly the idea that you
can start with nothing
but chemistry, the
ordinary laws of chemistry,
and end up with us, and
kangaroos, and oak trees,
and wombats, I mean, that is
the most astonishing fact.
But you know, even
more astonishing is
that you can get physics.
You can get matter.
You can get everything
from nothing.
Because it seems like you
should violate some law,
that as a classical philosopher
said, out of nothing
comes nothing.
The interesting thing is
that's based on common sense.
But as you point out,
the world doesn't
care about our common sense.
Our common sense should
be determined by reality,
by the evidence of reality.
And in the quantum
mechanics, for example,
which is an area of
physics I am involved in,
defies common sense.
Everything we think is
sensible about the universe
at some level is not true.
You and I appear to be
in one place at one time,
but electrons can be in
many places at one time.
It seems impossible.
It seems illogical.
And I have a t-shirt that my
dear partner, who lives here
in Canberra, gave me,
that says 2 plus 2
equals 5 in the limit of
extremely large values of 2.
And the point is 2 plus 2 in
the limit of large numbers,
common sense goes
out the window.
And once you add gravity to
the mix, everything changes.
And one of the things
that we've discovered
about the universe
that's so amazing
is that the total
energy of the universe
could plausibly be precisely
zero, even in spite of the fact
that it's full of stuff.
And once that
realization occurs,
you realize that maybe there's
a way to create it from nothing.
And then we've
learned that "nothing"
of the classical Greeks,
and of the Bible,
an eternal empty void,
is certainly not nothing.
Because empty space is
a boiling, bubbling brew
of virtual particles.
And, in fact, we've
discovered that nothing
can weigh something.
That's what the, in
essence, the Nobel
Prize that was given to
Brian and his collaborators
were here for.
Nothing actually
weighs something.
So the whole idea, there's
not much difference
between nothing and something.
And for some reason
that offends people,
the fact that really
answering the question
why is there something
rather than nothing
is really akin to saying,
why are some flowers
blue and some flowers red?
Or maybe even the question
that used to be important--
Kepler would have asked
why are there five planets?
And he thought
they had something
to do with platonic solids.
And of course, now we know
that there are nine planets.
And there are nine planets.
Pluto is a planet.
Don't believe it,
whatever anyone says.
My daughter studied
Pluto in grade 4,
and she's certainly not
going to go back, I promise.
But we realize that's not an
interesting question anymore,
because there are many
different solar systems.
And the question is not
why are there nine planets,
as if there's some
profound purpose of nine
planets, or eight
planets, but how
did it come about that our
solar system has nine planets,
and other solar systems may have
six, or other ones may have 12.
In fact, we've discovered when
we discovered planets around
other stars that things we never
thought were possible in terms
of solar systems, things we
never imagined possible--
solar systems with planets
the size of Jupiter right next
to their sun--
all these things that we thought
were physically impossible
are actually possible,
because the universe
continues to surprise us.
And so it doesn't
care what we like.
It doesn't care what
we think is sensible.
But I suppose things like
planets the size of Jupiter
being very close to their
sun, I mean that's surprising.
But it's not surprising in
the same way as the idea
that there could be literally
nothing from which something
suddenly springs.
And it is very hard to grasp.
And I certainly can't grasp it.
The reason why
it's hard to grasp
from an evolutionary
point of view, I suppose,
is that our brains
are tools for making
sense of the world in which
our ancestors had to survive.
And they had to survive
in a world in which things
didn't move very fast--
nowhere near the speeds where
relativity starts becoming
relevant; and also were large--
and so quantum mechanics
didn't have any effect.
So our ancestors'
brains were naturally
selected in an extremely
restricted range of phenomena
that had to be understood.
And so common sense equipped
us to be very bad physicists.
And so you have to
emancipate yourself,
just as I suppose our
medieval ancestors had
to emancipate themselves from
the idea of a flat Earth.
I mean, they would have thought
it incredible that here we all
are in Australia, upside-down.
That would have been very
worrying to medieval people
in Europe.
Now it's commonplace.
Do we dare hope
that there will come
a time when even
quantum mechanics is
commonplace to every child?
I'm not convinced
that it's really
understood by every physicist.
When I ask physicists,
some of them say,
well, don't even try
to understand it.
Just do the mathematics.
Well, in fact, I mean, I wrote
a book before this about about
Richard Feynman, who was one
of the people who changed
our view of quantum mechanics.
And he said he didn't
understand quantum mechanics.
I think at some point,
as you point out,
our brains, just like when
we talk about the universe,
space is curved.
Einstein discovered
with general relativity
that space is curved.
And when I talk about a flat
universe or a curved universe,
how can you picture that?
Because we're talking
about a curved
three-dimensional universe.
But we can't picture our curved
three-dimensional universe,
because most of us live
in a three-dimensional--
the Republican
candidates in my country
don't live in a
three-dimensional universe.
But--
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]
And so there are
just some things
that our brain is not equipped
to intuitively understand.
And one of the amazing
things about science
that I think we'll
come back to that
is that it forces us to
realize that our myopic picture
of reality is just that, that
there's far more to the world
than we see, and we have to
recognize that what we think
is natural or normal when
it comes to culture, mores,
or physics is not that way.
And I think that, for me,
that's probably the greatest
gift of science is that
it teaches us that we
need to go beyond ourself.
I think it's something we need
to be proud of our species
for, because our
species, I mean,
every species is designed
by natural selection
to survive in its world.
And we were never designed
by natural selection
to understand modern physics.
And yet our brains,
in amazingly,
through emergent properties,
are capable of reaching
way, way outside the bounds
that our evolution apparently
set for us.
I'm very proud to be human.
It doesn't mean I understand it.
But I'm proud that other
members of my species do.
It is really amazing.
And in some sense
to me that fact
that we have a
consciousness, people often
say that when you give up God
you give up human dignity.
But it's, to me, it's
the exact opposite.
And Steven Weinberg a
physicist, said that religion
is an assault on human dignity.
Because the dignity--
the remarkable fact
that we're conscious,
that we're able to ask
these questions, to me
gives meaning to our lives.
And we don't need imposed
meaning from elsewhere.
Yeah, that's right.
Well, while I was
debating Cardinal Pell,
you Lawrence, were debating an
Islamic scholar they call them,
don't they?
Where I come from, a
scholar is somebody
who's read more than one book.
But anyway, how did it go?
Yeah, I was.
Right while you were
doing the cardinal,
I was debating here today
at ANU actually last night.
It was a very pleasant debate
actually, to some extent.
Well, I got a little
upset at a few points.
But a debate on
whether a belief in God
was prohibitive or liberating.
And it was the Muslim debate
initiative here that held it.
And they were very respectful,
I should say, of me.
But the interesting
thing was that I
thought the questions that came
up were remarkably similar.
And at the same time,
the unfortunate thing
is that we were often talking at
cross purposes in the same way
that you were talking
to the cardinal,
because there are these
notions that somehow--
what amazed me was
a statement was
made that religion is
based on rationality,
just like science is.
And I read it in a piece
in The Australian today.
Some economist said that
the problem with atheists
is they don't
realize that religion
is based on rationality,
and that it should
form a part of public policy.
But in what sense
is it rational?
In what sense is it rational
to accept that someone
says, "God told me this"?
A woman in the United
States drowns her children
in a bathtub, and says
Jesus told me to drown them.
But we don't call her rational.
But an illiterate
peasant who can't write
is, as told by an angel, the
truth about the universe, who
then comes down later, and
tells, in upstate New York,
18 centuries later,
tells a known con
man who claims to have
discovered golden tablets.
She gets him to translate
them from the 19th century
to 17th-century English.
And we say, oh, sure.
I believe that.
Using a magic stone and a hat?
Exactly.
And then to claim,
among other things,
that Jesus will come down and
rule in Jerusalem and Missouri.
And so that rationality.
And the claim is based
that it's based on logic.
But once again, it comes down
to this question that logic--
this syllogism that
you probably had
this applied to you many times.
Whenever I debate Christian
apologists, in this case
it was the same as
a Muslim apologist.
They said, well,
there's a syllogism.
All humans are mortal.
Tom is a human.
And therefore Tom is mortal.
But I said to him, well,
what if in this century,
as might be the case,
we make people immortal?
We make cell lines immortal.
Well Henrietta Lacks's cell
line is immortal right now.
Does that mean they
won't be human?
Absolutely not.
Because what it means is
we change the ground rules.
Because we change
our understanding.
And classical logic
just doesn't apply.
And what may seem sensible
and rational were based,
let's face it, all of
the major world religions
were based on either
oral traditions,
in the case of Muslim
tradition, or things
that were written hundreds
of years after the fact
by people who weren't involved
before there was video cameras
or anything able to record it--
and before people even knew
the earth orbits the sun.
Yeah, well, that,
of course, is right.
But let me try and
see if I can explore
what a sophisticated
theologian might say.
I think it's a bit like--
[LONE CLAPPING]
There's a sophisticated
theologian.
Yeah, yeah.
I think it's a bit like what
social anthropologists do,
where you go, and you
go immerse yourself
in the culture of a tribe--
a Polynesian tribe, or
something of that sort.
And everything they believe is
actually scientifically false.
But nevertheless,
it hangs together
in a sort of coherent,
internal logic.
It all kind of fits
together, and makes sense
within that system.
And I think that's
the nearest approach
I can get to understanding
so-called sophisticated
theology, that within the
system, you know God exists.
You know He loves.
You know that He has all
sorts of aims and things.
And this is all known.
And therefore everything you do
has to fit in with that system.
It has no bearing
on fact at all.
But it is internally
consistent, in a sort
of anthropological way.
Why anybody wants to bother
to do it, I don't know.
Well, I think you may have
alluded to it earlier.
And I wanted to
ask you about this,
because another thing that
came up during your talk,
or your discussion
last night, you
indicated that our
brains were selected.
The way we think has been
selected by survival.
So that's by ability to survive.
It was certainly important,
I think, and maybe lead
to both science and
religion at the same time,
for early hominids to be
able to at least suggest
that there was some story, that
everything wasn't capricious,
that there was some
pattern to things.
And in fact, in many ways,
they were scientists.
So you can see early
modern humans learned how
to fish in very careful ways
in the tip of South Africa.
But at the same time,
I think that in order
to survive they had to create
stories that would lead
to some explanation
of the phenomena
they were seeing, in order to
somehow predict some regularity
to the universe.
And those stories must have
become religion at some point.
And as the person
questioned you last night
about providing solace,
that whether religion
provides happiness, and
makes people live longer.
But the question
is, does it work?
And one of the things
that didn't come up
last night I wanted to ask you
about, we were talking about,
is you admitted that there may
be some studies that suggests
that if you find solace in
God that you might be calmer,
happier, or whatever.
But what wasn't talked about
was the fact of prayer.
And I wonder if you want to
talk about that a little bit.
Well, what came up last
night was the suggestion
that comfort has some kind
of psychosomatic effect.
That may be actually
even a Darwinian benefit
in religion, because it
actually makes you more healthy.
There is a certain amount
of rather equivocal evidence
to that effect.
The important point
to make, of course,
is that it has no bearing
on whether it's true.
I mean the placebo effect
is well-known to doctors.
Doctors aren't allowed to
prescribe placebos anymore.
Only homeopaths are.
That's all they prescribe.
Which is all they prescribe.
Before about 1900, homeopaths
did better than real doctors,
because real doctors mostly
caused harm rather than good,
and hermeopaths did
absolutely nothing.
But you were asking
about studies of prayer.
There have been studies,
experimental studies,
quite well controlled,
double-blind studies,
of whether third-party prayer--
praying for, in this case,
victims of heart disease,
would get better if
they're prayed for.
It's quite difficult to design
a double-blind trial to do this,
because the patients
are not allowed to know
they're being prayed for.
And the people who
are doing the praying
mustn't be allowed to know
who they're praying for.
And so they're not
allowed to say that you're
praying for John Smith.
You have to disguise
it a bit by saying
you're praying for
John S. And maybe
a little bit of ambiguity
about which John S
you're praying for,
and things like that.
But anyway, what they did
was to divide the prayers up.
There were some patients
who were being prayed for,
and others who were not.
You will not be
surprised to learn
that prayer had absolutely
no effect whatever
on recovery rate, except for
one rather curious fact, which
is they did another trial in
which the patients were allowed
to know that they
were being prayed for.
And then they got worse.
I think the argument
was they got worse,
because if they knew they
were being prayed for,
they felt they should
be getting better.
And the anxiety hurt them.
Yes.
And it was funded by,
interestingly enough,
by the Templeton Foundation,
which, of course, is trying
to prove exactly the opposite.
Yes, that's right.
Yeah.
Now, you know, as long as
we're talking about prayer,
I wanted to ask
you about something
I think we're both
confronted with,
is people say, well, look.
Science can't replace religion.
Science can't
replace spirituality.
Science can't fulfill the needs
that are ingrained in humans.
And you need religion.
I wonder whether you
want to take that.
Well, there are
various things you
could mean by needing religion.
I mean, you could say,
what does religion provide?
Well, historically it attempted
to provide explanation
for the universe and the world.
And I think it's fairly
clear that science
has superseded religion there.
Religion also provided-- or
possibly provides-- comfort.
And that the
possibility of health.
But comfort in
the face of death.
Comfort in the face
of bereavement.
And I mean, does science
substitute for that?
Well, I suppose it does in
the form of drugs and improved
medicine and things like that.
It does provide
a lot of comfort.
It doesn't provide you with the
promise of life after death.
It's not clear to me
that religion's view
of life after death is
necessarily comforting.
Oh, yeah.
I brought that up last night.
The last thing in the world
I would ever want to be
is stuck for eternity
with my in-laws.
Yes, I mean, I think what may
be frightening about the idea
of dying forever is the
idea of eternity itself.
And it's eternity
that's frightening,
whether you're there or not.
And I think, on
the whole, eternity
is so frightening, I'd rather
be under a general anesthetic
for eternity, which is exactly
what's going to happen.
At best, yeah.
But the other
thing, of course, is
that some religions,
at least, promise
an eternity in a lake of fire.
And every time your skin burns
off you grow another skin,
so as to keep the pain going.
There's a kind of
inverse relationship
between the magnitude of
the threatened punishment
that a religion offers
in its particular hell,
and the plausibility
of the threat.
If the threat of
punishment after death
were the slightest
bit plausible,
it wouldn't need to be so
absolutely horrible in order
to carry conviction.
It's because it's
not plausible that it
needs to be so horrifying.
But anyway the
possibility of consolation
is another thing that religion
is supposed to provide.
Religion is supposed
to provide morals.
Well, I hope to goodness
nobody here gets their morals
from religion.
Certainly not the Old Testament.
Certainly not the Old Testament.
And preferably not the
New Testament, either.
Yeah, exactly.
Or the Quran, I would say.
Well, certainly not.
Yes.
But perhaps the main
thing that religion
might have been
thought to provide
is what's sort of loosely
called spirituality.
And there, I think
probably science,
depending exactly on how
you define spirituality,
science probably does
have quite a lot to offer.
I mean, I'm looking
forward to going
to visit the
observatory tonight,
and seeing what I hope will
be a clear view of the Milky
Way, which in the
Southern Hemisphere
is a lot more exciting than it
is in the Northern Hemisphere.
So I'm looking forward to that.
And that will be, I
confidently expect, something
like a spiritual experience.
Well, I think for
many people it is.
Whenever I give a lecture, I
show pictures from, let's say,
from the Hubble
Space Telescope--
a picture of a
cluster of galaxies.
I mean, the poetry of it--
well, we've both talked
about the poetry sides.
But the spiritual
inspiration you
get from looking at a picture
of a cluster of galaxies located
5 billion light years
away from us, where
every dot in that picture
is a galaxy, the light
from those stars left
those stars before our sun
and earth formed.
Which means that now many
of the stars in that picture
don't exist anymore.
And if there were civilizations
around those stars,
each of those galaxies
contains 100 billion stars.
Any civilization that
existed around those stars
no longer may exist.
It just opens your
mind to wonder.
And so I actually
feel very strongly
that while science,
per se, may not
provide the direct
consolation, it can--
and it should-- provide a
spiritual not only wonder,
but it should provide
a consolation.
Look, we talked about
this last night.
We tell our kids fairy
tales to console them.
We tell it to make
their life fun.
We talk about Santa
Claus, the Easter bunny.
But then we decide
that, you know what?
It's better for them to know
how the world really works.
And it may be a
little less consoling.
But in fact,
knowing that they're
in control of their lives
actually is empowering.
And many of us, if
you're a good parent,
you want to teach your kids
how to become empowered.
And in religion, they often talk
about the flock, the children,
it effectively treats
you like a child.
It says it's better for you to
believe a fable than reality.
And often when I'm in
a lecture on cosmology,
I point out that the two
things modern cosmology's
taught us is that
first, you're much more
insignificant than
you ever thought,
and two, that the
future is miserable.
But that should make
you feel good, not bad,
because it further
enhances exactly what you
were talking about.
We are so lucky
to be alive today,
and endowed with a
consciousness where
we, for whatever
fortuitous reasons,
are on a random star in a
random galaxy in the middle
of nowhere, we were able
to evolve a consciousness,
live on a relatively
quiescent planet.
And so I actually think science
can provide a real consolation
by saying, look, once
you accept reality,
it's liberating,
just like a child
is liberated from an adult.
And in fact I want to
ask you, the reason
I was getting around
here, is I know
we've talked about
your foundation,
and whether of science can
provide that consolation.
And maybe you can
relate the story to it.
Well, I mean, my foundation
is called the Richard Dawkins
Foundation for
Reason and Science.
And my primary motivation
is that a reasoning approach
to science is enthralling.
It's such a privilege to be
alive in the 21st century,
and to look out at
the stars, and reflect
on exactly the things you've
just been saying, Lawrence.
To look down a microscope,
to look down an electron
microscope, to look
into a single cell
and see the prodigious,
stupefying complexity
of a single cell,
and then realize
that there are trillions of
those cells in your brain,
your body, all conspiring
together to produce a working
machine which can walk, and
run, and eat, and have sex,
and think, reflect, understand--
understand why we exist,
understand where we came from,
understand where the
universe came from,
understand the magnificent
fact that it could all
have come from
nothing, and built up
from nothing into galaxies,
into stars, into chemistry,
into primordial life, into
genes, into primitive bacteria,
protozoa, and then right up
the evolutionary progression
to become, in Julian Huxley's
words, conscious of itself.
What a privilege it is for
each one of us to have in our
heads an organ which is
capable of comprehending
that, of constructing a model of
the universe inside our heads.
It is sad that that model
will die when our brain dies.
But my goodness,
what a privilege
it is before we do
die to have been
able to construct that
model in our heads,
and to understand why we were
ever born in the first place.
And perhaps the most
exciting part for,
I'm sure, for both
you and I, and I
hope for those of you who
are students in the audience,
is that we don't
know all the answers.
The other fundamental
difference between science,
and I would say
religion, if you want,
is that religion assumes the
answers and asks the questions.
And the great thing about
science is not knowing.
That's what makes
it exciting, is
that there are mysteries
remaining to be discovered.
We don't understand the
mystery of consciousness.
We can talk about it.
But we have no
idea how it arises,
that you would have electrical
impulses in your brain, which
clearly, by the way, are very
different than computers--
vastly different than computers.
Because you can argue
from a physics perspective
that if you built a digital
computer that had the storage
capability of the human brain,
and the processing power,
it would require 10 terawatts--
10 terawatts.
That's 10 times 10
to the 12th watts.
The human brain
uses about 10 watts.
So somehow we are
a million million--
10 million million
times more efficient
than digital computers.
We don't understand that.
That's amazing.
But you know, I wanted
to actually hit the point
that you didn't get to, but
which I found remarkable.
When you tried to make
your Foundation for Reason
and Science a
tax-deductible foundation,
a charitable foundation,
you had a problem.
Well, I wanted to get
it tax deductible.
And so I applied both in
Britain and in America.
And the primary
problem was in Britain.
You have to prove it
benefits humanity.
If you're a church, you
don't have to prove anything.
That goes through without--
go through on that on the nod.
But I had this Foundation
for Reason and Science.
And I got a letter from the
British Charity Commission
which said, kindly explain how
scientific education benefits
humanity.
[LAUGHTER]
We had to tell that story
in public, I thought.
We had to hear that.
We're getting close to the end.
There are a few things that
I thought we might cover.
One was, in fact, a big
issue in the United States,
and to some extent England.
It's amazing to visit a country
where the prime minister is
an atheist.
It's remarkable.
In the United States, you
may not be aware, well,
that won't happen.
I think it has happened.
Yeah, well, it
probably has happened.
Exactly.
But it would be
easier to be a Muslim.
And of course, many people
in the United States
think we have a Muslim
president at this point.
But there was a recent study
by psychologists in the United
States that was terrifying.
It was a study of college
students and adults.
And the most distrusted group--
the most distrusted
group was atheists.
The only group that they
were on par with was rapists.
And it's remarkable.
Because both you and I--
you perhaps more than me-- are
claiming to be strident, maybe.
But what I find is that if you
just ask the question, "Is it
possible that there's no god?"
you suddenly become terrifying.
And you were obviously
terrifying, I felt,
last night, to the
cardinal, who felt
attacked, and was
on the defensive.
And it seems to me
if you ask questions,
and people are defensive,
there must be a reason.
We hear stories,
don't we, of children
going to Sunday school, and
being thrown out for having
the temerity to ask questions.
I mean not to criticize,
but just to ask.
How dare you ask a question?
And I think that does argue
a certain defensiveness.
And it seems to me
that the funny thing
is we courage our
children-- those
of us who try to be good parents
or teachers-- to ask questions.
That's how you learn.
And so we encourage
people to ask questions--
unless the question's
about religion.
And then they're viewed as
being impudent, or rude,
or inappropriate.
And it seems to me that
one of the things that's
so valuable about
what you've done,
and we've moderated our
views over the years
as we've had discussions, is
if you simply treat religion
like any other aspect of human
activity, which means it should
be subject to questioning,
and ridicule, like politicians
and politics, and
physics, and sex,
and everything else, then if you
just ask that religion be put
on that same
framework, it raises
a consciousness that people
just somehow don't think it
should be.
It should be here, and never
subject to any of those things.
That's right.
It is regarded as having a
kind of privileged status.
Whereas you are allowed to
criticize somebody else's
politics, or their football
team, or their taste
in clothes or something,
criticizing their religion
is regarded as somehow
beyond the pale.
And I think that
really has got to stop.
There's really no reason
at all why religion
should be immune to--
not "strident" in
the sense of shouting
obscenities, but just simply
critical, clarifying questions.
I got into trouble last week.
I think it was in
the United States.
They had a thing called the
Reason Rally in Washington, DC.
Which we were both at.
And which we were both at.
And I spoke poorly, I think.
I encouraged people to
ridicule the Roman Catholic
doctrine of the
transubstantiation, the idea
that the wafer turns
into the body of Jesus--
not symbolically, as an Anglican
would say, but literally.
And I encouraged the
audience at the Reason Rally
if ever they meet a
Roman Catholic who
claims to believe
that, to ridicule it.
I mean, it is clearly
a ridiculous belief.
But I was mistakenly thought
to be saying what you want
to do is ridicule the person.
I quoted the British
journalist Johann Hari,
who said, I respect
you too much to respect
your ridiculous beliefs.
And I think I now would
want to change that a bit,
and say, I respect you
too much to believe
that you could possibly hold
those ridiculous beliefs.
And I encourage
people to, when they
meet somebody who holds a
ridiculous belief like that,
to really say, do you
really believe that?
Are you seriously telling me
that that's what you believe?
And encourage them either
to deny it, in which case
to deny the religion
to which they claim
to belong, or to defend
it, and say, no, it's
not really ridiculous
for the following reason.
And talk about Thomas
Aquinas, and accidents,
and things like that.
And if they can
convince somebody
that it's not ridiculous,
then well and good.
But don't let them hide behind
the screen of saying, oh,
that's my religion.
It's private.
You can't criticize it
because it's my religion.
It should be criticized.
And it should be defended
if it's defensible.
And I think that if that
were applied to politicians,
who at present in
the United States,
and it's obviously
not true in Australia,
because you actually have
an atheist prime minister,
that in the United States there
are 535 members of Congress,
of whom 534 claim to be
devout religious believers.
Well, that's just
statistical nonsense.
Of course they're not.
How could they be?
And so what I tried to
encourage Americans to do
was to challenge your
congressman or woman,
and say I don't think you
really do believe that.
Come out and actually say so.
Don't hide behind
the screen of secrecy
that says religion is a private
matter not to be questioned.
And that doesn't go
down well in America,
because there's this deep-seated
view that religion is somehow
a private matter.
But when you're trying to decide
whether to vote for somebody,
you want to know his
policy on taxation,
his policy on foreign
policy, on the Iraq war--
you want to know his policy
on all those sorts of things.
If you know that quite
apart from his policies
he holds some utterly nutty
belief, like that a wafer turns
literally into the body
of a 1st-century Jew,
just because a
priest blesses it,
I mean, that is barking mad.
And do you want to
vote for somebody
who is capable of
holding in his head
a nonsensical
belief of that sort?
And they should not be allowed
to get away with saying, oh,
that's private.
It's religion.
You can argue about
my taxation policy,
but you can't argue
about my nutty beliefs.
Well, I want to sort of
slightly differ with you there.
Although I defended you
the next day I was on TV,
and they asked me of
this ridicule question.
And I pointed that, well, in
principle nothing's sacred.
No idea is sacred.
And ridicule, as least if
you turn it into satire--
you know I like to tell jokes,
and as a part of teaching.
And I think it's a key part of
life, from Jonathan Swift on.
I mean, the idea,
satire is a way
of illuminating the ridiculous
inconsistencies of life
in a more non-threatening
way than confronting people.
And if you can make
fun of something,
it's a way of really
pointing things out.
So in my country, where
most people get their news
from something called The Daily
Show, or The Colbert Report,
because the satire there is
much more informative often
than the nightly news.
And so I think ridicule
is, in that sense,
not to be vindictive or mean,
but to hold the ideas up.
And in fact, we are
both good friends,
and we'll both be
talking about--
we'll both be attending this
global atheist convention.
And you and I are both
giving little talks
about our late friend
Christopher Hitchens,
who was a remarkable man.
And he used to
point out that that
was the key thing is the
hardest thing to talk
about are the most
obvious bits of nonsense.
A child can ask it.
It's the "Emperor's
New Clothes."
Why is the emperor
not wearing clothes?
And to do that, and to
subject religion and anything
else in life to humor
and satire I think
is a very important way
of exposing its problems.
The last thing I want to hit
before we turn to questions,
I guess, is for me,
we talked about it.
One of the most
liberating things
about science in some sense is
forcing your mind to open up.
So I wanted to ask you--
and I'll be happy to answer
the same question if you want--
is what in your
scientific career,
was the hardest thing
for you to accept?
Was the hardest
thing to intuitively
you really had to set
aside some deep-seated
prejudice in your own mind?
Oh.
Well, if we're talking
about a big thing,
it would be how you can
get something from nothing.
And we've talked about that.
If you want to talk about a
specific thing, a more detailed
thing in my own field, it
would be the demonstration
from molecular biology--
comparative molecular genetics--
that whales' closest cousins
are hippopotamuses.
Hippopotamuses
are closer cousins
to whales than hippopotamuses
are to pigs or cows or sheep.
So in my traditional
view as a zoologist,
hippopotamuses
were firmly within
the even-toed ungulates--
the cloven-hoofed animals.
And we were taught
as undergraduates
that they were
bracketed with pigs.
So you had hippos and
pigs, and then you
had the rest of the even-toed
ungulates-- cows and sheep
and things like that.
What molecular
biology is telling
us is that whales spring
out in the evolutionary tree
from right within the
cloven-hoofed animals.
Whales are closer to hippos
than hippos are to pigs.
Now that's a strictly
phylogenetic,
a strictly cladistic, as
we say, way of talking.
But it is an amazing.
I mean, it's not
that surprising when
you start reflecting on it.
Because whales by
going into the sea
emancipated themselves from all
the pressures of a land animal.
So pigs and cows and
antelopes and sheep
are all land animals
constrained to live
as land animals, which
is why they've stayed
as cloven-hoofed animals.
And whales, by
going into the sea,
have been able to take
off like giant balloons,
and just turn into
something utterly different.
But the fact remains that their
closest cousins are actually
hippos.
They spring from right
within the even-toed hoofed,
cloven-hooved animals.
And that's something
that molecular genetics
has turned upside down, my
world, the world of a zoologist
educated just at the start
of the molecular biology
revolution.
For me it was--
I mean, obviously
as a physicist you
get used to a strange
world-- relativity, quantum
mechanics, all these.
I mean, as a student you learn
that these basic ideas of space
and time that you grew up
with are not the case at all.
And apparent paradoxes
are possible.
But for me, right
now, it's deeper.
And I wrote about
it in the new book.
It's this possibility
that the laws of physics
are an accident.
Because it goes against
everything that made
me want to become a scientist.
I became a scientist
because I wanted
to understand why the universe
had to be the way it is.
And if it's really true
that it's just an accident,
it's really
disappointing in a sense.
And Einstein asked the question.
He phrased it poorly.
He said, did God have any choice
in the creation of universe?
That's one of the last
questions in the book.
And what he meant was are there
only one set of laws of nature,
where if you change any
fundamental constant
by a little bit, will
everything fall apart?
And of course most of us
who grew up to be physicists
felt, yeah, that's
probably the case,
that we want to understand
the unifying field
theory, the fundamental
theory that makes
the world be the way it is.
But everything that we're
now learning in physics
is suggesting the
opposite is more likely.
That in fact, it may
just be that the universe
is the way it is because
there may be many universes.
And if it were any different,
we wouldn't be here
to ask the question.
So another answer
to the question,
why is there something
rather than nothing,
is if there were
nothing, you wouldn't
be around to answer the
question, or ask it.
But that possibility
is so disgusting
if you grew up as a scientist,
that to me it's surprising.
But it also reflects
to me what I
think is the greatest
aspect of science,
is that if it turns out to be
the case, then even though I
believed in my heart of hearts
that it couldn't be that way,
I'll throw that belief out
like yesterday's newspaper.
And the one thing that I hope
that happens to every student
here--
I've said this before,
but I'll say it again,
because I think it's
so important, is that
at some point in your career
as students that you will have
some idea, something that was
central to your being that
makes you who you are, that
is central to everything
that you think makes up what's
important about the universe,
shown to be wrong.
Because that's the
liberating impact of science
that will truly open your mind
up to the remarkable universe
we live in.
Well, thank you for
listening to us now.
And now what I'd like to do is
open the floor to half an hour
of questions.
And so if you would
come to the microphones,
there are going to be people
manning the microphones.
And we'll be happy to
answer your questions.
Try to make sure
they're questions.
And if you don't make
sure they're questions,
you can be sure one
of us will stop you.
Is it comfortable to have the
house lights up a bit more?
Maybe we could turn the
house lights up a bit.
I don't know if we can.
And I should say while you're
getting to ask the questions,
the other bit of housekeeping
is after the question period
is over we will be
signing books out outside.
So you can get them.
But you can come ask
questions quickly,
even if you don't
have a book to sign.
I don't think either of us will
agree, however, to sign tonight
any body parts.
[LAUGHTER]
Speak for yourself.
OK.
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]
Are we ready?
OK.
Good evening.
I've just recently re-read the
book Ishmael by Daniel Quinn.
And in that book he makes
a very strong connection
between Judeo-Christian
religions,
and the idea that the
world was put here for man,
and not that man
is of the world.
And he said unless we change
this fundamental attitude that
comes out of religion,
or is strongly
connected with religion,
we will never really
be able to tackle the
environmental issues,
and to face the
changes that we're
going to need to make to
improve the environment.
And first of all, do you
agree with that point of view?
And do you think that we
can truly make progress
in changing the way
in which humanity uses
the resources of the
world if we don't first
tackle the fundamental problem
of that religious belief?
You want to start, or--?
No, you start.
OK.
It is a huge problem.
In fact, it was explicitly
demonstrated, again,
in my country, there's a
nut running for president
called Rick Santorum.
And he specifically,
when it comes
to climate change, which by
the way, in the United States,
the vast majority of the
public believe climate change
is a hoax.
All polls suggest that now,
because a tremendous amount
of money has been spent on that.
But using Fox News.
Yeah, exactly.
Rupert Murdoch.
But he said that that's a
hoax propagated by scientists
who care more about
the Earth than they
do about humans, that humans
have been given dominion
over the Earth, and the Earth
will take care of itself.
So that is a problem.
But at the same time, to be
fair, there are movements--
indeed, evangelical movements
in the United States.
There's a whole wing of
different religious groups
that are now saying
we have to accept
the fact that the Earth is a
dynamic entity that changes.
And we're impacting
it in a negative way.
So somehow that message
is getting through.
But I think you're
absolutely right.
If you don't recognize that the
universe doesn't care about us,
that it's not going to
always make it right,
then you're not prepared
to address the challenges
of the 21st century.
Which is one of the
reasons, getting
back to what I
said earlier, why I
think it's a problem to base
your public policy on myths.
It may be more
comforting, but you'll
be comforted all the
way to the point where
vast parts of the population of
the world will lose their land.
And so the comfort will
lead you right over a cliff.
Yes, I think the most obvious
problem is that religious one.
But even if we were to agree
on what the best policy was
to save the world,
it's a bigger problem
to achieve the political
unanimity to actually put
into practice what the
scientists will tell us
that we need to do.
So there's a very, very
big political problem.
I, actually, let me
ask you a question,
whether you're as pessimistic
as I am about this.
All of the challenges
of the 21st century
are now global challenges.
They're no longer local--
from energy to the
environment to population.
All of these things that
have to be addressed.
And I see no likelihood that the
political systems in the world
will allow those
to be addressed.
Instead, we'll have to
deal with the consequences
rather than addressing
them proactively.
Do you think that's likely?
Our colleague Martin Rees
is even more pessimistic,
and thinks that actually
we will be lucky to survive
the 21st century.
Because with weapons of mass
destruction becoming available
not just to major
scientific powers,
like they were in the past, but
available to any nutcase who
actually wants to
die a martyr's death,
then the outlook is even more--
I don't want you to be depressed
about that, by the way.
I will say, I was,
Richard, a friend of mine,
Cormac McCarthy,
who is a writer--
and a very bleak writer--
is a very cheerful fellow.
And I asked him, how
come you're so cheerful?
He said, well, I'm a
pessimist, but that's
no reason to be gloomy.
[LAUGHTER]
I'd like to question
your religion,
because it seems
to me that you make
science a religion in itself.
In what way?
Well, it seems like there's
kind of a Richard Dawkins cult.
Richard Dawkinsism-like.
Science really, nothing
is certain in science.
It works in statistics.
You can't prove
anything to 100%.
So how can you say
that science is better
than religion, than
what you're trying to do
is still [INAUDIBLE] people
that bring order to the world.
Well, you can't prove
anything to 100%.
But 100% is a hell
of a lot better
than 0%, which is what you can
prove by religious reasoning.
[APPLAUSE]
I guess we'd be giving up.
I mean I think--
let me try again on that.
The idea that science is a
religion, when in fact, science
is interested in
evidence, and is
prepared to change its mind
if contrary evidence comes in,
that's very, very
different from a religion.
As Lawrence said
earlier, in science
we're constantly open
to the possibility
of having to change our minds.
And science proceeds by
progressive refinement,
and changing minds.
And that there are
things that I suppose
will never be
disproved, things like
that the planets orbit the sun.
That's never going to change.
I don't think that
the fact of evolution
is ever going to be disproved.
It's always going
to be true that we
are cousins of chimpanzees and
of monkeys and of kangaroos.
So there are certain things that
we definitely know to be true.
The evidence is so
overwhelming, that to,
in Stephen Gould's words,
to object would be perverse.
But so-called religious truths
have absolutely no evidence
going for them whatsoever.
[INAUDIBLE] If I challenged
you as Richard Dawkins,
you'd probably have
a problem that.
Does it matter who I am?
No.
No.
We're listening to you now.
You're challenging me now.
And I'm accepting the challenge.
Fair enough.
Look.
I'm a Catholic.
I don't agree with
what [INAUDIBLE]..
But I don't think he's
a pedophile either.
Like--
No, I don't suppose he is.
Just, you know--
I don't know.
I've never asked--
My point is that you as
an eminent scientist, if I
challenge your scientific
doctrine, maybe
your theories, or opinion,
you disagree with me.
Well, I will, I mean, when
you say disagree, I will say,
where is your evidence?
Here's my counter evidence.
And I'll ask for yours.
Let's sit down together
and look at the evidence.
I mean, that's very different
from saying that I'm
arguing from authority.
In fact, let me jump in.
Authority-- that's
the key point.
Richard is not an authority.
I'm not an authority.
There are no
scientific authorities.
That's a key point.
There are scientific experts.
Richard knows a
lot about zoology.
I know a lot about physics.
But there's no one whose views
are not subject to question.
And that's the key point.
And there's no student
that should ever
be afraid of saying to a
professor in a science class,
you're wrong and here's why.
Except in Germany.
Anyway, maybe I think--
[INAUDIBLE] now?
Like isn't that the same thing?
Isn't that like you're
one of my professors?
No, what?
We're trying to
have a discussion.
But maybe I think the point
is maybe we should move on.
I mean, well, you say
you're a Roman Catholic.
And--
I also study physics.
Yes.
But I mean, do you
think the wafer
turns into the body of Jesus?
No.
Good.
I'm delighted to hear it.
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]
And the other thing that's
important about science--
and we had this discussion last
night in the Muslim forum--
I mean, I might,
to give an example,
people didn't really buy
the whole relativity thing
when Albert Einstein
first came up with it.
It was when those
former scientists
started dying, that
was when people
started accepting relativity.
But the difference
is, that there's
a fundamental difference.
And you should really
appreciate this.
And I'm surprised in some
sense that you don't yet.
But I hope you will.
Well, tell me.
Is that listen, listen
to me for a second,
is that there's a difference
between a story and something
that makes predictions.
And the only thing that
really makes science
really interesting is it works.
And so last night, when I was
debating with this Muslim,
I challenged him when
he says it's rational.
You're choking.
I have two choices.
I do the Heimlich maneuver,
or I pray for you.
Which do you want me to do?
And I think the real point
of science is that it works.
And if it didn't work, none of
us would give a damn about it.
Really.
The point is it works
until someone comes up
with a better theory?
Right?
What was that?
No, it works.
A car works.
An airplane works.
The lights in this room work.
Well, [INAUDIBLE] until someone
came up with a better theory.
Yeah.
So?
That's what happens.
Anyway.
OK.
I think we should move on.
No, everyone here
has been scared away.
You, may have partially
answered my question.
My question is about truth.
And it was raised last
night, but not pursued.
It's whether you believe that
you can arrive at truth other
than through direct observation,
logic, rationality, and reason.
In other words, are there
other pathways to truth?
And a related question
is, do either of you
have any sympathy for the view
that in some instances truth
is culture bound?
And what's true for a
Navajo Indian may not be
true for a Harvard scientist?
Thanks.
Why don't you start?
I once was having an argument
with a social anthropologist
who said that he was
studying a tribe that
believed that the moon was only
a few feet above the treetops.
And that he said that that
was true for that tribe.
And he said that the scientific
truth, that the moon is
a large sphere of rock a
quarter of a million miles away,
whatever it is, is only true
for Western scientific culture,
and that his tribal
culture, their truth
is every bit as valid.
I strongly objected
to that on the grounds
that Lawrence has just said,
that the truth of science
works.
If you build things using
what scientists think is true,
then they work, and you can
actually go to the moon.
If you correctly compute
the necessary orbits,
the necessary escape
velocity, and so on, it works.
Whereas other culturally-bound
so-called truths don't work.
And I think that's all
there is to be said, really.
And I rather sarcastically said
to the anthropologist, when
you go to an
international convention
of social anthropologists, you
get on board a Boeing 747, not
a magic carpet.
Exactly.
And I think you're a hypocrite
if you think the Earth is 6,000
years old and you drive a car.
Because the same laws
of chemistry and physics
that make the car
work tell us the Earth
is not 6,000 years old.
But I want to sort of add to
the point you said a little bit.
Because, in fact, you
got hit on last night
for reflecting an important
aspect of science when
you said you can't
absolutely prove that there's
no God, because it's true.
You can't.
But another major
misconception about science
is that science is
involved with the truth.
Science cannot prove something
to be absolutely true.
There are no absolute
truths in science.
That's also how it
differs from religion.
Science can prove things
to be absolutely false.
That's how science progresses.
Because an idea that disagrees
with the evidence of experiment
is false.
And it's false today, and
it'll be false tomorrow.
I can hold a ball up.
I can predict that
it will fall up.
I check.
It falls down.
That idea I threw
out the window.
I could say the earth is flat.
I go out.
It isn't flat.
We don't need constructive
criticism classes forever
to debate whether the
Earth is flat or round.
But what we do in science is we
get rid of all the falsehoods.
And what remains has
an element of truth.
But even if something satisfies
the test of every experiment
today--
in fact, that's what this
young lady was referring to--
it doesn't mean that we won't
discover we have to modify it,
be it Newtonian gravity
to general relativity
or classical mechanics
to quantum mechanics,
or whatever we're going to
learn at the edge of physics
or biology.
So we progressed.
But we never say we
know the absolute truth.
Because that's a claim
that's anathema to science.
It's just not the
way science works.
In the [INAUDIBLE] science,
nature identifies two forms
of nihilism, or what
he calls nihilism.
One of those is the belief
in some transcendent meaning,
and the other is the crude
denial of that meaning--
atheist being defined as sort
of the opposite to theology.
Do you think in that
respect in some sense
it implicitly carries with it
some parts that are theology,
and in that way still is
within a theological sort
of framework?
Oy vey.
That's a technical term.
Well, I hesitate to enter into
a philosophical discussion,
except I would argue
that the kind of atheism
that Richard and I
talk about is not
a complete denial of anything.
It's a question
of what's likely.
And that's what Richard
was saying last night.
I can't prove that there
isn't a teapot orbiting Mars.
But it's not likely.
And everything we know
about the universe, at least
for Richard and I, leads
us to the conclusion
there's no evidence of purpose,
or of divine intervention.
But that doesn't mean,
we argue definitively
that we can prove that
that can't be the case.
So we're not denying.
We're just asserting
the evidence of reality.
And in fact, I don't describe
myself as an atheist.
I have learned from my friend,
again, Christopher Hitchens,
I describe myself
as an anti-theist.
Namely, I cannot prove
that there is no God.
I just certainly wouldn't want
to live in a universe with one.
I don't know if you
want to add anything.
Uh, no.
[LAUGHTER]
A common claim made by religious
people is that you cannot
disprove the existence of God.
Do you think science
will advance to a point
where it can disprove
the existence of God,
and if so, would
religious people become
atheists, or they would find
something else to believe?
Actually, some religious
people have been asked that.
I mean, specifically with
respect to Christianity.
There've been Christians
have been asked,
what if archaeological
evidence showed conclusively
that Jesus never existed?
And many of them said, no, I
would go on believing in him.
Which is hard to credit.
But the X-Files got it right.
People want to believe.
And I think that people
want to believe in belief.
And you pointed it out.
I mean, the young lady
described herself as a Catholic,
but most people who describe
themselves as religious
don't accept the doctrines
literally of their religion.
They pick and
choose the ones they
like that they find acceptable,
and throw out the others.
And what they really want
to believe is in believing.
And it's really hard
to give up believing.
There's no doubt about that.
But I would say to
answer your question,
the assertion of a existence of
God is always not falsifiable.
And science can only deal with
questions that are falsifiable.
I cannot prove that we weren't
all created here 35 seconds ago
with the memory of a
remarkable evening.
And I can't prove that.
It's not a falsifiable question.
Bertrand Russell
used that example.
And he said, "complete
with holes in our socks."
Yeah, exactly.
And so at some level,
if it's not falsifiable,
science can't address it.
On the other hand,
what you can do
is amass evidence
and understanding.
And what we now, for a
small example of that,
is biology, the notion
of intelligent design.
The notion that we're
intelligently designed
has clearly been shown
to be beyond the pale,
to be so much counter-evidence
that it is so highly
unlikely as to be thrown out.
No sensible person
talks about it,
except the cardinal
and a few other people.
But
[INTERPOSING VOICES]
It's true.
No sensible person
talks about it.
But I think that's
as far as you can go.
Hello.
This is going to be a little
bit of change of subject.
But I wanted to see what
Richard himself, and maybe
even Lawrence, if you
had a similar experience,
thinks of people
on the internet,
and even to a lesser
extent in real life,
misquoting or taking what
you say at face value,
almost raising what you
say, or who you are,
to a God-like status.
I'm sure there are
people here who
have browsed websites such
as Reddit, seen things
on Facebook, 4chan, of people
who just kind of use you,
or people such as Carl Sagan,
as Neil deGrasse Tyson, people
who say important things,
and who are smart, obviously.
But they just take what
they say at face value.
How do you feel about that being
used in like an atheistic kind
of argument?
People kind of
reversing the tables.
They're almost treating you
guys on like a god-like status.
I don't know how.
How would you feel about that?
Or have you even observed
that in the first place?
I don't think I
have observed it.
But if I did, I would
be very disturbed.
I would be very upset
if anybody treated me
the way Roman Catholics are
taught to treat the Pope.
I mean, I think it's
a truly horrible idea.
You always make me kiss your
ring every time I meet you.
What are you talking about?
[LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE]
I think it's a
truly horrible idea
that anybody should
believe something simply
because person X believes
it, and tells them
that that's what
they've got to believe.
It's one of the most
disagreeable parts of the Roman
Catholic Church, that
it constantly argues
from authority, and
passes the word down,
especially when the
word is, frankly,
made up in the first place.
In fact, you know, I mean, I'm
happy when people quote us,
if they like what we say.
But again, I found it
in the debate yesterday,
it's really interesting
when I read people,
and they say this is the case
because so-and-so wrote it,
because whether it's you,
or me, or Carl Sagan,
or whoever, or a philosopher.
And it's like, what does
it matter what they say?
What they say,
they can be wrong.
And so it really is important.
Whenever anyone starts quoting
something by saying so-and-so
said this, say it doesn't
matter what so-and-so said.
Really, they could be wrong.
What's the evidence for that?
And so, yeah, I
absolutely agree.
It's an awful way of arguing.
And unfortunately
it's a way of arguing
in a number of different
fields, and certainly theology
is one of them.
There's a famous story
that Galileo was once
demonstrating something through
his telescope to somebody.
And the man looked through
the telescope and said,
Signor Galileo, your
demonstration is so convincing,
were it not that Aristotle
positively states the contrary,
I would believe you.
Yeah, that's right.
I think we have time.
We'll take one
more question here,
and one more question there.
I'm sorry for the people
who were over there.
And you should come over here.
No, but anyway.
Yes.
Hi.
I'm assuming you guys have
both read the Bible properly.
I'm interested in what your
favorite story from the Bible
is, simply because
you can't read a book
and not find something
good about it.
Like I know the Bible is mostly
a load of crap, sorry, people.
But being involved with
someone who has actually
read the Bible, and being
forced to listen to it myself,
I do know that there are some
good ideas, moral stories,
whatever you want to call it.
I'm interested in what
your favorite one is.
I'm not sure that I
have a favorite story.
I think, I mean, my two
favorite books of the Bible
are the Song of Songs, which
is not by Solomon, by the way.
It's a collection
of erotic poems.
And at least in the
authorized version
it's extremely beautiful.
I suspect it's been completely
murdered in modern versions.
And the other one
is Ecclesiastes,
that these two books come
together in the Old Testament.
And they're both lyrically
beautiful in the 17th century
English.
And I read both of
them frequently.
I wouldn't call them
call them stories.
Neither of them
are really stories.
But they are
hauntingly beautiful.
Yeah, in fact, well, it's
not surprising that I agree.
It's the lyricism of
certain aspects of the Bible
that are beautiful.
And in fact,
because if you think
about how the Bible
was written, it
was written by
taking songs, poems,
the literature of the time,
and sometimes adapting
the most beautiful
stories of the time.
And in fact, a friend of
ours, Anthony Grayling,
who is a philosopher,
remarkably,
wrote a beautiful book,
which I highly recommend,
called The Good Book, which
is he tried to do in a secular
way what the Bible did.
He borrowed the most beautiful
poems, songs, stories right
through human
history, and put it
in a way in the form of the
Bible without mentioning God.
But it's a book about
how we've learned
to live well based on
the most beautiful things
that humans have said.
And I think I suspect that
it's that beautiful lyricism
of that part of the Bible
that I've enjoyed reading
the most as well, I think.
But I wouldn't take it in
the modern translation.
If you think about the most
famous lines from Ecclesiastes,
"Vanity of vanities, sayeth
the preacher, all is vanity,"
at least one modern
translation I've seen
says, "Futile, futile.
It's all futile."
It won't do.
But actually that does relate
to something that's often said,
is that when you
talk about the Bible.
And one of the things, our
comments that happened again
last night to me,
is that people say,
well if you don't really
understand-- the reason you're
criticizing is you don't
read Aramaic, or Arabic
in the case of the Quran.
And the answer, which again, was
given by Christopher Hitchens,
is it's hard to believe
that God is a monoglot.
I mean, that somehow if
you don't read Hebrew
that you miss the point.
Anyway.
One more.
One last question.
Upstairs.
Upstairs.
Oh, good.
We didn't get-- I'm sorry.
Upstairs.
That's OK.
I just want to say,
I wholeheartedly
agree with everything
you believe in, and--
I believe in nothing.
Let me make that clear.
I don't believe in anything.
Well, yeah, I'm an agnostic.
Maybe an anti-theist.
"Belief" is not a word I use.
But I agree with you everything,
except perhaps your approach.
And allow me to
politely disagree here.
I study political science.
And in political science,
if you look at history,
the church, the scientific
institutions, and the state
have always been in constant
conflict and turmoil.
It's a struggle of power
relations between these three
sort of societal constructs.
And it was the case
in Darwin's time.
And Darwin was very
hesitant to even broach
his subject of The Origin of
Species, because of opposition
from the church, and even
some of his fellow scientists.
We don't live in that
same world today.
But in politics, power comes
not just from conflict.
Power comes from collaboration.
And I guess my only criticism
of the atheist approach,
as I see it, is that
this idea of conflicting
with religious groups, of
politely ridiculing people
with religious
beliefs can perhaps
have more of negative
consequence for furthering
the reason and logic as the
higher purpose of society
than it does good.
And so I'm going to pose
two questions to you.
The first question is,
what does success look like
for, say, the atheist movement?
And is success achievable
through polite ridicule
of people of religious beliefs?
I think that's a
very fair question.
And one of the things
that Edward O Wilson--
he's gone off the rails
in his latest book.
But in an earlier
book he made the point
that we have some really, really
serious problems for humanity
to solve.
And the time is running out.
And we need to get people
of goodwill, whatever
their religious beliefs or
lack of them, to get together.
And so he wants to compromise
for precisely the reasons
you're talking about, and
to get decent, reasonable,
religious people on
our side, as opposed
to the nuts like Santorum.
And I think there is a
lot to be said for that.
And if your goal is, say, to
make the world a better place,
then I think there
could be something
to be said for making a compact
with the relatively recent--
I mean, people like the
Archbishop of Canterbury--
decent, intelligent,
religious people.
If your aim however, is to
understand the universe;
if your aim is that
of a scientist,
I cannot help regarding all
religions as somehow counter
to that aim.
And so I think I agree with you
about the politics of making
the world a better place.
But my ultimate aim would be
to try to understand the world,
and understand the universe.
And there, I can't help
finding religion the enemy.
It's an interesting question.
It's similar to the
first question we ever
talked when we first met.
We have somewhat differing
views on this, although I think,
again, we've come
together in certain ways.
But I'm sympathetic to what
you're saying in many ways.
The question is, what are
you trying to achieve?
I think as a
scientist, absolutely,
you cannot compromise.
I agree with Richard entirely.
However, as an educator,
which I also have a hat on,
I firmly believe that I
have no interest in arguing
against God or religion.
It's not of interest to me.
All I'm interested
in is getting people
interested in learning how
the universe really works.
Because that's so amazing.
And if, as a consequence,
they give up a belief in God,
that's fine.
Because I think inevitably
that will happen, personally.
But that doesn't matter to me.
What really is more
important, I think,
is ultimately getting
people to take the blinders
off one way or another.
And you're absolutely right.
The only way to reach
people is to seduce them,
is to go to where they are
and get them interested.
And it's, to some extent,
although the effect
has been sometimes the
opposite, as it was last night.
The book I just wrote was to use
religion as a seduction tool.
The question "Why is there
something rather than nothing?"
sounds like a
religious question.
But I get to sneak in
all of modern cosmology.
Anyway, thank you very much.
[APPLAUSE]
Richard, Lawrence.
One of the things you can't
do without a moderator
easily is to thank yourselves.
That's my role here.
I'm going to be the moderator.
It gives me a chance to
have the last word, too.
Very, very grateful here.
One of the things an institution
like the ANU is about
is about debate and ideas.
And what we've
heard this evening
is a very intimate conversation.
And that's really quite
a remarkable thing
to do in a place
like Llewellyn Hall.
But it's a conversation
and questions
and a debate about
things that matter
to us from two respected
scientists in biology
and in physics.
And it's been interesting
and enthralling.
So once again, can
you join with me
to thank Lawrence and Richard?
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
[INAUDIBLE]
I did say I do
want the last word.
And I was trying to think
hard how to get out of this.
And so I want to take a quote.
And it's a quote
from an Irishman,
because of course the
Irishmen have the best quotes.
But it's a quote from
the comedian Dave Allen.
And for those who feel
old enough, like me,
Dave Allen was a comedian that
spent much of his life actually
challenging religion
for various reasons--
particularly Catholicism
and Anglicanism.
And the way he
always used to finish
was to say, "Good evening,
thank you, and may
your God go with you."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]
