The Rationality of Belief: Why Do Most Scientists Today Not Believe in Hashem?

His name is Graham, and his professional resume makes me feel that my career aspirations have always been too ordinary. He holds a doctorate in biological anthropology (did you even know such a field exists?) specializing in the study of great apes, particularly orangutans. He splits his time between the U.S., Germany, and China, holding teaching and research positions in each. Of course, his work cannot be confined to a lab; he spends extensive time trekking through the jungles of Indonesia, at rehabilitation camps for rescued apes, zoos, and safari parks worldwide.

A few weeks ago, I contacted him to obtain information I needed about orangutans. Conversations with scientists are a regular part of my work, which I enjoy for two reasons: firstly, it's always a pleasure to receive clear, eloquent, and intelligent answers from those well-versed in their field. Secondly, scientists love being interviewed and answering questions. They are thrilled by the idea that what interests them also interests others, and they usually share their knowledge generously and more extensively than expected.

Graham was undoubtedly one of the most successful interviewees I have ever encountered. He had an organized and clear answer to every question, backed by precise numbers, statistics, and data. He was clear, sharp, and an excellent analyst of his field (which, of course, pertains solely to the future of orangutans, not humanity, but it's always good to meet someone deeply knowledgeable in their field). Since I also requested some photos of the apes he photographed, he promised to email them to me when he had access to a better computer. Meanwhile, he suggested I check out his website.

Graham's site contains, aside from his impressive resume, summaries of all his research, and plenty of photos, information about his career as a writer. As it turns out, Graham published a book that became a bestseller in many countries, including a Hebrew edition. I clicked with curiosity on the image of the book, 'Encyclopedia of Life.' What is it about? Here is the description on the site: "The book offers an amazing view of 30,000 years of biological evolution. Filled with the latest science... readers will feel awe at the incredible diversity of the natural world and a renewed appreciation of their place within it."

Common clichés for describing science books? Certainly, but also a reason for a deep sigh on my part.

I love talking with scientists. As a group, they fascinate me endlessly. I love their endless curiosity about the world, their persistence in finding answers, the single-mindedness that characterizes many of them. It's no wonder I write a lot about popular science; I enjoy gaining access to researchers and scientists, engaging in in-depth discussions, receiving precise scientific answers to seemingly banal questions ('Why do I have ants in my kitchen? Thank you, amazing Professor Deborah Gordon), hearing nascent theories that could lead to major breakthroughs in medicine, physics, or any other field.

However, this interaction with the world of scientists repeatedly brings me face to face with an uncomfortable reality for a believer: most of them believe in things that Judaism considers heretical. Some believe in Hashem, but it's their personal variation of Hashem. Most believe in evolution. They mostly believe our earth is very old. Sometimes they manage to convince themselves they can link religious beliefs into their scientific worldview, in a patchwork of foot here, foot there (yes to Hashem, but also evolution. Yes to creation, but millions of years ago). In any case, their beliefs about the origin of the universe, about human origins, about the reasons for Earth's biological diversity – are light years away from mine.

The sigh I let out when I read the promotional text for Graham's book expresses a feeling that often strikes me while working with scientists and researchers. They are so intelligent, so dedicated to their field, so rational... yet they believe in things I simply cannot.

"Hashem Does Not Need to Reset His Clock"

Why is it that despite all my exposure to science and admiration for scientists, my religious beliefs remain unshaken? Why do I trust Graham completely when he provides answers about orangutan genes, yet instantly reject his positions on evolution? How can I regard scientists I speak with as marvelously brilliant but still, with a fraction of their scientific knowledge, completely disagree with them?

Perhaps the scientists I know would have already shaken my faith if I didn't love not just science but also history. The history of science, of course, is a niche I particularly love. Anyone versed in this history knows that brilliant scientists existed in previous generations. True, their labs were much more primitive, and they didn't know many things taken for granted today – but the phrase 'dwarfs standing on the shoulders of giants' is nowhere more accurate than in the world of science. And these scientists, admired even by today's scientists, had entirely different beliefs.

Take, for example, what is known in history as the 'Leibniz–Clarke Correspondence.' This correspondence was initiated by Princess Caroline of Wales, wife of the British heir apparent in the early eighteenth century, later Queen of England. Caroline grew up in Prussia, and her tutor was none other than Gottfried Leibniz, who retains a reputation as one of history's greatest intellectuals. Leibniz was a true polymath, engaged in mathematics, science, philosophy, and metaphysics.

After moving to Britain upon her marriage, Princess Caroline met another intellectual giant, this time an Englishman: Sir Isaac Newton, who revolutionized the world of science. Newton was a great and innovative physicist and mathematician (he discovered, among others, the law of gravity) who laid the foundation for classical mechanics – which is, in turn, the basis for modern engineering.

Newton and Leibniz held differing views on various scientific questions, including the definitions of time and space. There were no scientific forums for them to confront each other directly at the time, but Princess Caroline – by her royal privilege – decided to create such a forum. She demanded that Leibniz confront Newton directly through correspondence with the philosopher Samuel Clarke, Newton's loyal student, who consulted him before writing each letter. The letters from both sides were sent to Princess Caroline, who forwarded them to their destination. Cumbersome? Absolutely. But thus was created the most important philosophical and scientific correspondence of the eighteenth century.

Reading these letters impresses us not only with the intellect of the writers but surprises modern readers with the frequency with which they mention Hashem. Leibniz, Newton, and Clarke were all very religious, and their debates revolved around different religious interpretations of how Hashem governs the world. Newton, whose religious insights from his scientific work led him to reject the Christian doctrine of the Trinity and believe in one Hashem, argued, for instance, that certain scientific phenomena could only be explained by Hashem's direct intervention. According to Newton's calculations at that time (later corrected), natural laws were insufficient to keep the planets in their orbits, necessitating the 'hand of Hashem,' an active divine intervention in natural laws from time to time to ensure the world's continued existence.

Leibniz, however, rejected this claim entirely. His philosophy asserted there was no doubt that a perfect Hashem created a perfect world that wouldn't require 'fixes' along the way. In a letter to Princess Caroline, which prompted her to initiate the Leibniz–Clarke Correspondence, he sarcastically complained: "Sir Isaac Newton and his followers have a strange opinion of Hashem's actions. According to their doctrine, Almighty Hashem must wind up his clock from time to time..."

The Leibniz–Clarke Correspondence is a fascinating example of the mindset among scientists when 'enlightenment' wasn't interpreted as 'secularism.' True, the theory of evolution had not yet been formulated in their time, but heretics existed even then. As anyone who has read Maimonides' works knows, beliefs in an ancient world or a world without a ruler were prevalent long before Darwin. But the brightest and most educated people, groundbreaking scientists and philosophers like Newton and Leibniz, didn't hold such beliefs. Their belief in Hashem was not the result of social indoctrination either; the Christian environment Newton grew up in, after all, didn't prevent him from rejecting basic Christian doctrines based on logical contradictions. Their belief in Hashem was an integral part of their scientific observations and logical reasoning. In the absence of the rebellion against religion that arose in later generations, and without the desire to liberate society from all moral principles deriving from the Bible, past scientists had no incentive to ignore what seemed to them as solid and unequivocal truth: the intricate universe and the wondrous human consciousness must be the creation of a higher power.

I believe in the creation of the world as told in the Torah, not because Newton believed so. I believe it because Jewish and Torah sources provide me with enough evidence and arguments to seriously consider no other possibility. Yet, the strong faith of people like Newton and Leibniz makes it easier for me to separate the impressive factual knowledge of researchers I encounter from their beliefs based on theories. The genetic diversity of orangutans, after all, has no bearing on the way we choose to live. Beliefs about these apes' origins and their familial link or lack thereof to humankind do have implications.

I don't know if scientists who believe in evolution do so out of fashion, self-conviction, or genuine misunderstanding. But I know for sure that the fact that someone is a brilliant scientist never makes his statements on the creation of the world and humanity something that would shake my faith. Human thinking is a complex process, and our cognitive abilities aren't always equal across different subjects. Yes, even highly intelligent scientists can err, like all of us, in amateur or biased thinking. Moreover, this definition of thinking leading to heresy is not mine – Isaac Newton himself concluded: "Whoever thinks carelessly won't believe in Hashem; but whoever thinks truly must believe in Hashem."