Some of the earliest personifications of nature were the
projections of God as a king and a lawmaker. In prehistoric, low-tech
societies, the most important inventions, after language and the ego
themselves, were the hunting tribe and then the Neolithic village. Laws were
needed to maintain the social order and ancient theists and animists understood
the rest of the world to be similarly regulated by hidden personages. The
supernatural world was just an invisible social order in which the absolute
ruler and his aristocrats and entourage created and governed the natural world
much as we construct our microcosmic societies, that is, our tribes, civilizations, empires, and so on, as
oases from the wilderness.
That kind of personalizing cognition became obsolete with
modern objectification. We still habitually personify
ourselves and each other, because we’re too proud to consider ourselves
animals, but the fictional characters of the gods died in importance for most
of the modern intelligentsia. Instead of a remote social realm, there were just
more and more objects, as scientists discovered; for example, the lights in the
sky turned out to be stars, not gods. Coincidentally or not, the pace of Western
technical innovations quickened with the Renaissance and then with Industrial
Revolution, just as modern scientists from Copernicus to Newton, and Darwin to
Einstein used their new methods of discovery and mathematical description to
model nature as a machine. The philosophy of deism prevented the masses that
still depended on the old gods for their sanity and morality, from revolting
against science for having depersonalized the universe and banished the gods to
nowhere. For a time, informed people could think of the universe as a
self-regulating machine designed by a great architect. But given the modern
biologist’s mechanical explanation of the design of organisms and the quantum physicist’s
account of the creation of universes from chaos, the cosmicist implications of
modern objectification are logically inescapable. People are outgrowths of
impersonal systems; we’re not metaphysically fundamental and so we ought to
feel alienated from automated nature. Luckily, most people can’t hope to follow
the scientist’s logic nor are they interested in following it, in the first
place, because even as science undermines our comforting fictions, applied
science is a cornucopia of goodies which distracts us from the ghastliness of
the hand that feeds us.
As modern scientists came to see nature in its corporeal
splendor, through their telescopes and microscopes, they depersonalized
themselves, developing the scientific institutions and using experiments to circumvent
their prejudices and the prevailing dogmas, to explain what they saw. Thus, the world’s undeadness came to match
that of nature’s heralds. Of course, scientists were prone to the same
animalistic tendencies as the rest of us: they bickered, harbored resentments,
and competed for power in their dominance hierarchies; some even worked
feverishly on theological problems, as in the case of Isaac Newton. But the
scientific methods themselves coldly detach hypotheses from such messy social
contexts, algorithmically sorting adequate from useless models. In short,
science became a social machine to mirror the natural systems that were measured
with ever greater exactness by the extended senses in the laboratories.
Engineering and the Undeadness of Natural Machines
Two kinds of scientific worldviews emerged from those
revolutions, which I’ll call the engineer’s and the mathematician’s. These
worldviews aren’t scientific theories, but tendencies in science to interpret
theories according to different naturalistic assumptions. Moreover, the point
isn’t that all professional engineers and mathematicians line up on one side or
the other, but that these two flavors of naturalism arise especially out of
those two disciplines. That is, I’m talking about two types of naturalism that derive
from certain attitudes among scientists, born from different kinds of
scientific work. There’s some overlap between engineering and mathematics, but
these groups are also divided by different mindsets and cultures. So, then, the
engineering-centered picture takes for granted the technologies that provide scientists with the data needed to
formulate their hypotheses. In addition, the engineer appreciates the work that goes into scientific
explanation, including the economic and political systems needed to separate
Church from State in modern Europe, which allowed early modern scientists to
work with less and less fear of persecution. Finally, the engineer’s sort of
naturalism is pragmatic in that the
engineer is inspired by the power of natural causes to determine their effects
and thus he takes science to be the means by which we control nature, in turn. Incidentally,
engineering-centered scientists are overwhelmingly male.