Determinism, Contingency, Chance and Finality in Nature

Folder 18: Part 4 – pages 19-47

1. Determinism, Materialism and Evolution

There is no doctrine less evolutionist than determinism. We realize perfectly the paradoxical
character of this assertion, since most evolutionist “systems” were entirely determinist. And yet, if
evolution happened in a rigorously determinist manner, it would be necessary to say that all the
future in nature was already perfectly predetermined in the initial constellation of the world. It would
follow that a sufficiently powerful human intelligence, which knew this original arrangement would
be able to see determinately all that will be and would not be able to learn anything more in the
course of time. One knows the formula of Laplace: (citation lacking) [see Note 1 below]

Pierre-Simon Laplace

One could render this idea more concrete by applying it to the cosmological hypothesis of Abbe
Lemaitre.
Lemaitre

We should then say that the primitive atom contained already determinately all that was ever going
to appear in the course of time. So that the intelligence which had known this primitive atom to the
extent of all that it had in it would be able to learn nothing more in the course of time. The unfolding
of the cosmos would be as that of a bad play in which one foresaw, beginning with the first act,
what would follow right to the end.

Such a natural determinism is at the root of materialism. By materialism, we mean here a doctrine
which accords priority to the necessity of matter. Let us explain this expression “necessity of
matter” which we encounter in Aristotle. (Physics II, chap. 9) For example, the artisan who makes
a saw chooses a hard metal. This is necessary by reason of the end which this tool must serve.
But the metal can comprise certain disadvantages: it can be more or less fragile, it can rust, etc.
Now, the artisan does not choose these properties. He did not desire this metal for its fragility, nor
because it can rust. If he could have avoided these defects, he would have done so. If he can
make the metal rustproof, he will do it. In short, among the properties of the matter employed, there
are those which are required and desired for the perfection of the instrument: but there are others
which render it defective in certain respects. In the measure to which these last are inevitable, they
are called necessary by reason of the matter. These are properties which are imposed on us
although we would desire to avoid them. They are sometimes relatively, sometimes absolutely
insurmountable. Now, this pitfall belongs to the genus of absolute necessity, as opposed to that of
the necessity called hypothetical, that is to say, of the conditions under which an end can be
achieved. Thus, the saw must be made of metal by reason of the work that one wants to do with
such an instrument: if one wants to saw wood, the instrument must be such and such. It is
necessary to employ metal and fashion it in such and such a fashion by reason of the end that one
sets for oneself. (citation lacking)
We encounter these two sorts of necessity in the works of Nature. The absolute necessity of matter
and the hypothetical necessity of the end suppose, the one and the other, that natural beings act for
an end. And this end is not simply a term at which certain processes end up, following the order of
time, but it was the reason for which was done what has been done. Now, there are authors who
have maintained that all that happens in Nature happens by reason of the necessity of matter. And
they do not limit themselves to recognizing that certain things come forth from this necessity, but
they affirm that all is dominated by it. Here is how Aristotle describes this conception. (Physics, II,
chap. 8, 198b19-32)
It is therefore with reason that one calls this doctrine materialist. It accords, in fact, absolute priority
to matter. Not only is the latter not ordered to form, but form itself no longer has the nature of form:
form itself would be purely accidental. All rationality would be found on the side of matter, and what
we attribute to form and to the end would be supplied by pure chance. The rationality of form
would be, in nature, of the purely irrational: the irrational that comes forth from matter would be the
only rationality in itself. Such must be the position of all those who neglect finality in treating
chance. Scientific knowledge therefore would reduce to the sole knowledge of the necessity of
matter. Knowledge of what must be by reason of matter would be perfectly exhaustive of reality.
That is why we say that this determinism is materialist.

But this determinism is at the same time a sort of logicism. Everything that happens in nature would
unfold from matter as consequent from antecedent. It is not without paradox that this materialism
should be at the same time a sort of idealism. Such is however the ineluctable consequence of the
identification of the necessity in natural things with that, a priori, that one encounters in
mathematics, for example. (Physics II, c. 9, 200a15-30)
One sees now where determinism is opposed to every idea of true evolution. What we call
“species” would be for it the fruit of pure chance: the species itself would never be able to be other
than a purely accidental reality. As well, in such a conception of Nature, evolution is something very
easy to admit since, at root, it is not necessary (puisqu’au fond il n’en faut pas): if there is no true
form, neither is there true evolution. Every possible difficulty is thus found eliminated in advance.

One sees from this how important is the distinction of the different species of causes: final, efficient,
formal, and material. However, one can accept this division without according priority to final cause.
But the priority of this cause, that is to say, of the good, means that matter is for the sake of form,
even though this form may never be able to dominate matter to the point of escaping from what it
brings with it of necessity. And, in this respect, one cannot remove from it a relative priority, a
priority due to certain features which unfold from such or such matter. These features of a given
matter, which depart from the order of the end, and which from then on are there outside of the
intention of the agent, Aristotle calls “accidents of the individual.” St. Thomas several times cites
this remark of the Philosopher: “It is not in the accidents of the individual that one must seek the
final cause, but only the material cause.” (De Malo, q.5, a.5, c.) [see Note 2] But why “accidents of
the individual”? One would not mention the fragility of the metal and its oxidizable character in the
definition of the saw unless it were useful for the end of the saw.

2. Finality and Contingency

We have made these considerations in order to show the very close connection which exists
between finality and contingency in Nature. There would not be true contingency in Nature, if the
latter did not act for an end, and if there were not this “indisposition” of matter, to overcome by a
process of alteration spread out in time. It is precisely the distinction between the form and the
matter to be disposed which is the root of this contingency. There would be no contingency
properly speaking in Nature if the intention of the end necessarily led to the execution of this same
end. In order to eliminate this contingency, it would be necessary either to accord priority to matter,
or to remove from natural agents all true causality. On the one hand, the priority of matter would
assure the existence of the end, so that one would be able to say: the iron exists, therefore the saw
will be; but this end would have in no way the nature of end: it would not be the cause of what is
done, and would no longer be a form, – it would be pure result. On the other hand, natural agents
would not truly be agents: because, in order to act, it would be necessary that they attain the
infallibility of the absolutely first universal cause. One would thus return to the position of those who
deny real causality to all created agents.

And, by true contingency, we do not mean that which one calls “extrinsic” and which can be
attributed to every creature from the fact that it was able not to be. This contingency, in fact, is
defined by the active indetermination of the free agent, and more precisely by the liberty of
contradiction. The thing that I have done, but that I was free not to do, is contingent in this sense.
On the contrary, the contingency of which we speak here, envisaged first of all in all its generality,
has its root in the finite agent (by opposition to the absolutely universal cause) in so far as it is finite.
Because it is the property of such an agent not to be able to dominate all that can happen to that
which it accomplishes. In created but free agents, this contingency finds its reason in the limitation
of their intelligence and, consequently, of their will; (citation lacking) and, in the beings of Nature, it
has its cause not only in the limited character of natural agents, but even more properly in matter in
so far as it is subject of privation.

Now, this last contingency would not exist (we mean the contingency which is proper to the order of
generation and of corruption) if, in all things, the matter were perfectly subordinated, perfectly
subject to form: if matter were, by its nature, perfectly disposed to form. But, if it were thus with it,
not only would it have this form always and necessarily (just as the matter of the celestial bodies of
the ancients), but it would no longer be able to have the sort of finality which is characteristic of
Nature, finality which is not encountered in incorruptible beings, and which is precisely the term of
becoming as such. It is the production of substance and of its perfection which are the proper term
of the operations of Nature: alteration and growth. Now, if matter were by its nature immediately
disposed to form, there could not be anything more in Nature except local movement. But that
latter, let us note, cannot be, by itself, a term. (citation lacking) And this characteristic finality of
beings which are born and perish cannot be found in incorruptible beings, because those come to
be, not by becoming, but by creation. Certainly, the substantial being of the incorruptible is a good,
but it is a good that preexists the being which seeks after it. (citation lacking)

One sees therefore, here again, to what point determinism destroys all there is that is most
characteristic of Nature. (Cf. II Cont. Gent., c.30; ibid., III, c. 72.) In a sense, it denies the
imperfection proper to natural beings, but in another sense it denies what they have that is most
perfect: it denies privation, but it denies form at the same time. Nor is the coincidence of these two
negations accidental, because privation is defined by form; matter, indeed, tends only toward the
form of which it is deprived.
3. Chance and Natural Contingency

Contingency in Nature is said first of chance. The latter is the attribute of a natural and efficient
cause, in so far as, acting for one end, it attains to another end, which was not in its intention, and
which, moreover, is present only rarely. The nature of chance is understood better by the light of
fortune which is more familiar to us, since it takes place in human actions. (citation lacking) [see
Note 3] We speak of fortune when, for example, a creditor goes to the market to buy victuals and,
although he did not expect it and he did not go to the market for this end, he encounters his debtor.
This encounter is a good fortune for the creditor, it is a bad one for the debtor if the latter wished to
avoid him. Now, the same kind of causality can present itself in purely natural things. Thus a horse
held in captivity by the enemy, walks in the meadow to graze the grass and finds itself all at once
before an opening in the fence through which it passes in order to achieve liberty. We note that the
creditor and the horse would have gone to these places if they had known that they would find in
them their good. We add, however, that only the event that occurs rarely is called fortuitous or by
chance. We would not speak of fortune if the creditor had expected to encounter his debtor at this
place and at this moment: and he could have expected as much if such encounters were frequent.

(citation to III Cont. Gent., c.6.)

All these examples make us realize how finality is essential to chance. If there were not action for
an end, and if there were not the possibility of attaining a term which is not the object of such action,
there would be question neither of fortune nor of chance. (For the general doctrine of chance, see:
S. Thomas, In I Periherm., lect. 13-15; In VI Metaph., lect. 2-3; In II Phys., lect. 8-10; Ia, q. 116;
also John of St. Thomas, Curs.phil.)
Contingency is said secondly of what happens usually, by opposition to what happens always. The
contingent is then opposed to the necessary. We say, indeed, of certain things that they happen
only usually because they admit of exceptions which will be called by chance, provided that they
meet the conditions that we have enunciated in the definition. Now, it is because the things that
happen usually are opposed to those that happen necessarily that we can call them “contingent.”

Now, the moderns often employ the term “chance” in a slightly different sense, which can lead to
confusion. One will say, for example, in the theory of the formation of planetary systems proposed
by Sir James Jeans, that the earth was formed by chance.
(citation lacking?)

Sir James Jeans

Manifestly, this theory is only an hypothesis. But one can find examples of such a “chance” closer
to us and surer. A mushroom, for example, spreads millions of spores which are disseminated by
the wind. Compared to the total number, the few spores that will produce mushrooms are almost
negligible. We find ourselves here before a law of propagation that is almost general. Once we
place ourselves in the quantitative point of view, the immense profusion of spermatozoa is an
almost total waste. Does this not prove that, in reality, Nature succeeds only in exceptions? In
short, must one not reject this Aristotelian principle: what happens usually, happens by nature?
Not at all. (citation lacking)

Alluding to the theory of Jeans on the formation of the planetary system, Eddington extends this
same idea to the astronomical universe: (Citation lacking)

The part of the truth that the mutationist hypothesis would contain could be explained in the same
fashion. It is especially in the writings that expound this hypothesis that one can see to what point
the ambiguity of the term “chance” can lead to confusion. If one places oneself in the statistical
point of view, it is indeed understood that successes will be only by chance. Consequently, in
Nature, what is statistically “most likely” can be only a means. In this perspective, the object of
intention of Nature can only be the “improbable.” It is clear from this that the calculus of
probabilities and statistics have nothing to do with Nature and chance, in the philosophical sense of
these terms. And the reason for this is that, necessarily, the calculus of probabilities, and statistics,
abstract from finality. But the authors do not always make this distinction, and they do not hesitate
to identify the highly improbable of the calculus of probabilities with chance such as it was
understood by Aristotle. Let us remark, however, that we do not at all wish to reject the statistical
notion of chance, nor even this use of the term. It suffices to take account of the equivocal nature
of this term and of the capital importance of chance, understood in these two senses, for better
understanding the problem of evolution.

The Root of Chance

If matter has not always been the subject of the most perfect form that it desires, it is because it was
not disposed and proportioned to that form from the sole fact of its transcendental ordination. This
indispositio presents to Nature a task to accomplish – and this task will not be simply an affair of
automatism and routine. When authors treat of the dynamic coordination of the universe, they have
a marked preference for the image of the machine. One can understand the reason. For the
human intelligence, the machine, complex as it is, has all the desired clarity. It is, indeed, a work of
man who knows the reason for each of its parts. But, in reality, it is the creationist conception of the
universe which is better accommodated to the image of a mechanism. The works of Nature are
then compared to the uniform products of a machine assembled from the beginning (“machine
montee depuis le debut”). We do not want to underestimate the profound sense of repetition in
Nature. We said above that one can see in the succession of the individuals of one identical
species following the order of generation and corruption, an attempt at imitating the divine. (Ia.
q.110, a.2) But perhaps this attempt is yet more profound in Nature which tends not only to imitate
the divine – that is to say the perpetual, the incorruptible -, but also to realize it in disposing matter
for the immortal soul of man. And this operation of Nature is then compared to the invention and
the assembly of the machine, rather than to the functioning of the latter already all made. As well,
the work, the term of this operation that Nature tends to accomplish, is very far from being only a
machine!
But one can ask why, the perfection of the universal causes being given, the process of the
disposition of matter must be so long; why must Nature make so many detours in order to arrive at
the term of its intention, and how can it fail so frequently? To this question, one can respond with a
single reason: the universal causes are not able to make the natural beings obey their will. It would
be necessary, indeed, that these causes have a creative power and that they be able thus to create
matter itself. (Ia, q.110, a.2 (which is correct reference?)). On the other hand, if God, the
absolutely universal cause which all creatures obey “ad nutum,” were to intervene to do the work of
the secondary causes, his work would take a miracle: He would act outside of the order commonly
observed in natural things. (Ia. q. 105, a.6; ibid., q. 105, a. 5; III Cont. Gent., cc. 101 et 102;
ibid., cc.77 and 79; In II Sent., d. 1, q. 1, a.4, ad 1.) [see Note 4]
Moreover, in order to act in Nature, universal created causes are dependent on natural agents
which are their instruments, just as the carpenter whose work depends on the quality of the saw.
And here is the reason. In the generation of a natural being, it is the composite that is engendered,
and not the form as such; but, “omne agens agit sibi simile”; it is therefore only the composite as
such which is normally able to engender a composite. That is why universal created causes, being
under the dependence of natural agents for producing their effects of universal causes, are never
other than extrinsic causes. They are not able to move things here below except by means of local
movement which does not affect of itself the mobile in itself. This movement, indeed, is a
movement of a thing already in act, and this thing is not in potency except by relation to place,
which is something extrinsic to the mobile. On the contrary, alteration, which is by its nature “via ad
generationem,” is the action of the natural agent and the passion of the mobile. But since there is
no movement of alteration without local movement, separated agents are able to be causes of
alteration by the mediation of local movement, with or without the intermediary of a composite
generator. (citation lacking)

Alteration being a true movement, it is a continuous process. It is by reason of this continuity that
alteration is spread out (repartie) over time. From thence the slowness of the natural formation of
cosmos.

Because universal causes move natural agents in a manner conformed to their nature –
“quodcumque enim recipitur in altero, secundum modum recipientis recipitur” -, (citation lacking)
[see Note 5] and because the form of these agents is not entirely determined “ad unum,” these
causes cannot rigorously predetermine their effects in Nature. This is why they remain exposed to
chance and to prodigies.

Chance and the Work of Nature

Let us remark, however, that chance, as fortune, are not of themselves causes of failure. It is true
that fortune can be the cause of an evil. This was the case of the debtor in the example of Aristotle.
It can also be the cause of a good, and it is even from this that fortune was defined from the
beginning. It is the same with chance. Saint Thomas goes so far as to say that the universe would
be less perfect if there had not been chance or fortune. And he gives the proof of it: (citation
lacking)

It is even necessary to say that, among things generable and corruptible, the existence of
individuals always owes a part to chance or to fortune. It is true that they are engendered by
nature, but nature would not have engendered them if there had not previously been some purely
accidental encounters. Here is an example of this: (citation lacking) (footnote on this page without
antecedent : “C. De Koninck, dans Revue Thomiste, art. cit., pp. 250-251) [see Note 6]

Chance is not, therefore, of itself contrary to nature. It is even necessary to specify that if certain
events are strictly by chance or fortuitous even in relation to the ensemble of all created causes,
they remain always the effects of the absolutely universal cause which is God. The first cause is
the cause of being in its entirety. Now being is divided into necessary and contingent. God is
consequently the cause per se of the contingent just as much as of the necessary. And in a sense
he is even more of the contingent to the extent that he alone can be the per se cause of the
contingent without destroying the contingency of the latter.

We have said that one must not confound chance understood in the Aristotelian sense with the
chance of the calculation of probabilities. This last is defined without finality. However, it can be
applied in the domain where there is finality. We have already said that that which, from the
statistical point of view, is extremely improbable can have in reality the nature of an end. In this
regard, the probable becomes a pure function of the improbable. The consideration that we borrow
from Emile Borel gives us an entirely striking example: (citation lacking – page includes a footnote
“Op. cit., p. 306.) [see Note 7]
Physicists and Astronomers agree in seeing in life an extremely improbable phenomenon and, in
fact, almost negligible. But, from the moment that we regard life in the perspective of finality, we
see in the statistically probable a case of what we have called “necessitas materiae.” It is in this
necessity of matter that we understand the measure in which matter remains disproportioned to
form. This is why Saint Thomas can speak of a “victory of form over matter.” (citation lacking) [see
Note 8]

Inferior living things are, in their manner, a sign of the resistance of matter, because they are not
desired for themselves. But in regarding them from the perspective of man, in their ever more
perfect organization, we see that the universal cause — cause per se of the form in natural
generations — subjects matter more and more to itself. This victory manifests itself in the fecundity
of living things. However, this fecundity by which the natural agent reproduces its like does not
have the nature of an ultimate term. But thanks to univocal generation, natural agents render
immediately possible and are able to be instruments of a further conquest of the advent of a more
elevated form.

Whatever be the real value of the theory of mutations, it seems to us that it is in no way opposed to
the doctrine of finality. (citation lacking) [see Note 9]

Mutations, it is said, appear by chance. Those which are progressive and which succeed in
maintaining themselves are extremely rare. The exceptional character of mutation, and the yet
more exceptional case of the successful mutation, manifest on the one hand the resistance of
matter, but, on the other hand, a “victoria formae super materia.” From the point of view of the
universal cause, the infra-human individuals are desired only for the species, and the inferior
species for another more perfect. Does the mutation constitute a transformation of species? this
expression, we have already indicated, is very equivocal and has given rise to many
misunderstandings. Let us say that all definable nature is immutable and, in this regard, there can
be no question of a changing of species. But the species as such does not exist. If we say of a
species that it exists, it is by reason of the existence of one of several individuals of this species. It
is only the individual which exists per se. Consequently, the production of a new species means
quite simply the production of one or several individuals of a new species. The evolution of species
cannot signify for us anything other than this: the appearance of the first individual or individuals of
a more elevated species, under the dependence of the organization of matter in an individual of an
inferior species.

**

** **

Thus understood, the general theory of evolution, far from conducting to materialism, would be
rather a visible sign of the depth of the divine causality. Indeed, as we have seen, the divine
wisdom is manifested (sentence perhaps incomplete) . . . (citation lacking) [see Note 10]

Manifestly, we find nowhere in Saint Thomas the idea of evolution. Equivocal generations in no
way had for an end the establishment of a more perfect species. But it is necessary not to forget
that, in his time, it was believed that the world had only existed for some thousands of years and he
would not therefore be able to suspect the very perfect role that created universal causes could play
in the formation of the world. But when one reads his doctrine on the nature of their causality, one
does not hesitate to apply it to evolution. When, on the other hand, one sees how the doctrines of
final causality and of universal causality in nature have been almost entirely neglected by most
scholastics of modern times, one no longer wonders at their anathema.

Translated by David Quackenbush

Edited and corrected by Father Hildebrand Garceau

Additional editing and notes by Bart Mazzetti

Notes (Supplied by Editor)

n. 1. On Laplace:
Cf. Charles De Koninck, “The Unity and Diversity of Natural Science,” Mélanges à là Memoire de
Charles De Koninck, pp. 5-25:
Why, then, has the wholly artificial distinction between philosophy and science been so readily
accepted? It has in some measure been forced upon us by inevitable specialization, or, to put it
another way, by the limitations of the single brain. But these limitations are not to be projected upon
natural science and its subject. The fact that no mathematician now knows more than part of
mathematics ought hardly be taken to mean that the only subject of the science is confined to the
part that he knows. The knowability of a subject should not be restricted to and identified with what
a given man may actually know of it with some exactness. This is another way of saying that what is
knowable as to us must not be confused with what is knowable in itself.

The unscientific limitation just mentioned finds ample illustration in the history of science. Let me
quote an example of what I here intend. It is again from [Max] Born. He has in mind Laplace’s
idea of causality, namely, that the future is wholly predetermined in the past. “An unrestricted
belief in this type of causality leads necessarily to the idea that the world is an automaton of which
we ourselves are only little cogwheels. This means materialistic determinism.” Such a
generalization, reared upon a still primitive astronomy, was unscientific, if only because it ignored
human responsibility. It was no doubt an “idee claire et distincte,” yet, like most such ideas, utterly
lacking in wisdom, if only because it clashed with a hard though intangible, fact of experience, just
as obvious as the succession of night and day. Hypotheses of this type are those of a scientist gone
mad or, if you wish, of a bad philosopher. Are we to conclude from this that it is precisely the
business of the philosopher, as distinguished from the scientist, to defend things such as human
freedom, and to show that determinism is an unsound hypothesis? I should say that the wise
scientist too, should know as much, since he does and must philosophize. §
On the views of Max Born, cf. Natural Philosophy of Cause and Chance, The Waynefleet Lectures
(Oxford, 1949) pp. 1-20:
From the Introduction, pp. 1-4.
The notions of cause and chance which I propose to deal with in these lectures are not specifically
physical concepts but have a much wider meaning and application. They are used, more or less
vaguely, in everyday life. They appear, not only in all branches of science, but also in history,
psychology, philosophy, and theology; everywhere with a different shade of meaning. It would be
far beyond my abilities to give an account of all these usages, or to attempt an analysis of the exact
significance of the words ’cause’ and ‘chance’ in each of them. However, it is obvious that there
must be a common feature in the use of these notions, like the theme in a set of variations. Indeed,
cause expresses the idea of necessity in the relation of events, while chance means just the
opposite, complete randomness.

Nature, as well as human affairs, seems to be subject to both necessity and accident. Yet even
accident is not completely arbitrary, for there are laws of chance, formulated in the mathematical
theory of probability, nor can the cause—effect relation be used for predicting the future with
certainty, as this would require a complete knowledge of the relevant circumstances, present, past,
or both together, which is not available. There seems to be a hopeless tangle of ideas. In fact, if you
look through the literature on this problem you will find no satisfactory solution, no general
agreement. Only in physics has a systematic attempt been made to use the notions of cause and
chance in a way free from contradictions.

Physicists form their notions through the interpretation of experiments. This method may rightly be
called Natural Philosophy, a word still used for physics at the Scottish universities. In this sense I
shall attempt to investigate the concepts of cause and chance in these lectures. My material will be
taken mainly from physics, but I shall try to regard it with the attitude of the philosopher, and I hope
that the results obtained will be of use wherever the concepts of cause and chance are applied. I
know that such an attempt will not find favour with some philosophers, who maintain that science
teaches only a narrow aspect of the world, and one which is of no great importance to man’s mind.
It is true that many scientists are not philosophically minded and have hitherto shown much skill and
ingenuity but little wisdom. I need hardly to enlarge on this subject.

The practical applications of science have given us the means of a fuller and richer life, but also the
means of destruction and devastation on a vast scale. Wise men would have considered the
consequences of their activities before starting on them; scientists have failed to do so, and only
recently have they become conscious of their responsibilities to society. They have gained prestige
as men of action, but they have lost credit as philosophers. Yet history shows that science has
played a leading part in the development of human thought. It has not only supplied raw material to
philosophy by gathering facts, but also evolved the fundamental concepts on how to deal with them.
It suffices to mention the Copernican system of the universe, and the Newtonian dynamics which
sprang from it. These originated the conceptions of space, time, matter, force, and motion for a long
time to come, and had a mighty influence on many philosophical systems.

It has been said that the metaphysics of any period is the offspring of the of the preceding period. If
this is true, it puts us physicists under the obligation to explain our ideas in a not-too-technical
language. This is the purpose of the following lectures on a restricted though important field. I have
made an attempt to avoid mathematics entirely, but failed. It would have meant an unbearable
clumsiness of expression and loss of clarity. A way out would have been the reduction of all higher
mathematics to elementary methods in Euclidean style — following the celebrated example of
Newton’s Principia. But this would even have increased the clumsiness and destroyed what there is
of aesthetic appeal. I personally think that more than 200 years after Newton there should be some
progress in the assimilation of mathematics by those who are interested in natural philosophy. So I
shall use ordinary language and formulae in a suitable mixture; but I shall not give proofs of
theorems (they are collected in the Appendix).

In this way I hope to explain how physics may throw some light on a problem which is not only
important for abstract knowledge but also for the behaviour of man. An unrestricted belief in
causality leads necessarily to the idea that the world is an automaton of which we ourselves are
only little cog-wheels. This means materialistic determinism. It resembles very much that religious
determinism accepted by different creeds, where the actions of men are believed to be determined
from the beginning by a ruling of God. I cannot enlarge on the difficulties to which this idea leads if
considered from the standpoint of ethical responsibility.

The notion of divine predestination clashes with the notion of free will, in the same way as the
assumption of an endless chain of natural causes. On the other hand, an unrestricted belief in
chance is impossible, as it cannot be denied that there are a great many regularities in the world;
hence there can be, at most, ‘regulated accident’. One has to postulate laws of chance which
assume the appearance of laws of nature or laws for human behaviour. Such a philosophy would
give ample space for free will, or even for the willed actions of gods and demons.

In fact, all primitive polytheistic religions seem to be based on such a conception of nature: things
happening in a haphazard way, except where some spirit interferes with a purpose. We reject today
this demonological philosophy, but admit chance into the realm of exact science. Our philosophy is
dualistic in this respect; nature is ruled by laws of cause and laws of chance in a certain mixture.
How is this possible? Are there no logical contradictions? Can this mixture of ideas be cast into a
consistent system in which all phenomena can be adequately described or explained? What do we
mean by such an explanation if the feature of chance is involved? What are the irreducible or
metaphysical principles involved? Is there any room in this system for free will or for the interference
of deity? These and many other questions can be asked. I shall try to answer some of them from
the standpoint of the physicist, others from my philosophical convictions which are not much more
than common sense improved by sporadic reading. The statement, frequently made, that modern
physics has given up causality is entirely unfounded. Modern physics, it is true, has given up or
modified many traditional ideas; but it would cease to be a science if it had given up the search for
the causes of phenomena. I found it necessary, therefore, to formulate the different aspects of the
fundamental notions by giving definitions of terms which seem to me in agreement with ordinary
language. With the help of these concepts, I shall survey the development of physical thought,
dwelling here and there on special points of interest, and I shall try to apply the results to philosophy
in general.

From Part IX, Chance

There is no doubt that the formalism of quantum mechanics and its statistical interpretation are
extremely successful in ordering and predicting physical experiences. But can our desire of
understanding, our wish to explain things, be satisfied by a theory which is frankly and shamelessly
statistical and indeterministic? Can we be content with accepting chance, not cause, as the
supreme law of the physical world?

To this last question I answer that not causality, properly understood, is eliminated, but only a
traditional interpretation of it, consisting in its identification with determinism. I have taken pains to
show that these two concepts are not identical. Causality in my definition is the postulate that one
physical situation depends on the other, and causal research means the discovery of such
dependence. This is still true in quantum physics, though the objects of observation for which a
dependence is claimed are different: they are the probabilities of elementary events, not those
single events themselves.

Part X, Metaphysical Conclusions

The statistical interpretation which I have presented in the last section is now generally accepted by
physicists all over the world, with a few exceptions, amongst them a most remarkable one. As I
have mentioned before, Einstein does not accept it, but still believes in and works on a return to a
deterministic theory. To illustrate his opinion, let me quote passages from two letters. The first is
dated 7 November 1944, and contains these lines:

`In unserer wissenschaftlichen Erwartung haben wir uns zu Antipoden

entwickelt. Du glaubst an den würfelnden Gott und ich an volle Gesetzlichkeit in
einer Welt von etwas objektiv Seiendem, das ich auf wild spekulativem Weg zu
erhaschen suche. Ich hoffe, dass einer einen mehr realistischen Weg, bezw. eine
mehr greifbare Unterlage für eine solche Auffassung finden wird, als es mir
gegeben ist. Der grosse anfängliche Erfolg der Quantentheorie kann mich doch
nicht zum Glauben an das fundamentale Würfelspiel bringen.
(In our scientific expectations we have progressed towards antipodes. You believe
in the dice-playing god, and I in the perfect rule of law in a world of something
objectively existing which I try to catch in a wildly speculative way. I hope that
somebody will find a more realistic way, or a more tangible foundation for such a
conception than that which is given to me. The great initial success of quantum
theory cannot convert me to believe in that fundamental game of dice.)
The second letter, which arrived just when I was writing these pages (dated 3 December 1947),
contains this passage:

`Meine physikalische Haltung kann ich Dir nicht so begründen, dass Du sie
irgendwie vernünftig finden würdest. Ich sehe natürlich ein, dass die principiell
statistische Behandlungsweise, deren Notwendigkeit im Rahmen des bestehenden
Formalismus ja zuerst von Dir klar erkannt wurde, einen bedeutenden
Wahrheitsgehalt hat. Ich kann aber deshalb nicht ernsthaft daran glauben, weil
die Theorie mit dem Grundsatz unvereinbar ist, dass die Physik eine Wirklichkeit
in Zeit und Raum darstellen soll, ohne spukhafte Fernwirkungen…. Davon bin ich
fest überzeugt, dass man schliesslich bei einer Theorie landen wird, deren
gesetzmässig verbundene Dinge nicht Wahrscheinlichkeiten, sondern gedachte
Tatbestände sind, wie man es bis vor kurzem als selbstverständlich betrachtet hat.
Zur Begründung dieser Überzeugung kann ich aber nicht logische Gründe,
sondern nur meinen kleinen Finger als Zeugen beibringen, also keine Autorität,
die ausserhalb meiner Haut irgendwelchen Respekt einflössen kann.
(I cannot substantiate my attitude to physics in such a manner that you would
find it in any way rational. I see of course that the statistical interpretation (the
necessity of which in the frame of the existing formalism has been first clearly
recognized by yourself) has a considerable content of truth. Yet I cannot seriously
believe it because the theory is inconsistent with the principle that physics has to
represent a reality in space and time without phantom actions over distances…. I
am absolutely convinced that one will eventually arrive at a theory in which the
objects connected by laws are not probabilities, but conceived facts, as one took
for granted only a short time ago. However, I cannot provide logical arguments
for my conviction, but can only call on my little finger as a witness, which cannot
claim any authority to be respected outside my own skin.)
n. 2. On De Malo q. 5, art. 5, c.:
Cf. On Evil: Disputed Questions By Saint Thomas Aquinas. Translated by John A. Oesterle and
Jean T. Oesterle (Notre Dame, 1995 [pb. 2001]), q. 5, art. 5, c. (in part):
Response:
According to the Philosopher in Book II of the Physics, 85 “natural” is spoken of in two ways: either of
that which has a nature, as we call bodies natural, or of that which follows on the nature as being
according to the nature, as we say tending upward is natural to fire. And in this way we are
speaking here of the natural which is according to nature. Hence since ‘nature’ may refer to two
things, namely, the form and the matter, something is called natural in two ways, either according to
the form or according to the matter. According to the form, it is natural to fire to give off heat, for
action follows upon the form; and according to the matter, as it is natural to water that it can be
heated by fire. And since the form is more properly nature than the matter, 86 what is natural
according to the form is more natural than what is natural according to the matter.

But that which follows on the matter can be taken in two ways: in one way according as it is suited
to the form, and this is what an agent chooses in matter; in another way not according as it is suited
to the form—rather it may be even contrary to the form and end or purpose—but what follows from
the necessity of matter,87 and such a condition is not chosen or intended by the agent. For example,
the artisan who makes a saw for cutting looks for iron because it is a material suitable for the form
of a saw and for its intended end on account of its hardness. However there is found in iron a
condition according to which it is not suitable either for the form or its intended end, for instance that
it is breakable or subject to rust or something of the kind, which is an impediment to the end or
purpose; hence such conditions are not chosen by the agent, but rather would be rejected by him if
it were possible, Hence the Philosopher says in Chapter XIXOn the Animals,88 that the final cause
is not to be sought, but only the material cause, in the accidents, i.e., attributes of the individual, for
they arise from the disposition or composition of the matter, not from the intention of the agent. So
then something is natural to man according to his form, as for instance to understand, to will, and
the like; but some things natural to man according to his matter, i.e., his body. [remainder omitted]
85 Arist. Phys. II, 1 (192b8-193a1)
86 Hence since nature may refer to . . . than the matter: Arist. Phys. II, 1 (193a9-193b18).
87 from the necessity of matter: Arist. Phys. II, 9 (199b834ff.)
88 On the Animals XIX (= On the Generation of Animals V) ch. 1 (778a30-b10); see Albert De
Animal. XIX, tr, un., c. 1, nn. 2-3 (Stadler II, 1246). §
Cf. also Quaestiones Disputatae De Anima by Thomas Aquinas translated as The Soul by John
Patrick Rowan St. Louis & London: B. Herder Book Co., 1949. Html edition by Joseph Kenny, O.P.,
art. 8, c. (in part):
ARTICLE 8
WHETHER THE RATIONAL SOUL SHOULD BE UNITED TO A BODY SUCH AS MAN
POSSESSES
[Summa theol., I, q.76, a.5; Contra Gentiles, II, 90; Sent., II, dist. 1, q.2, a.5; De malo, q.5, a.5.]
…In the light of what is stated above, the nature of a disposition of the human body must be
determined in relation to the particular [dispositions] proper to man. However, we must take into
consideration that in those things which are constituted of matter, some dispositions exist in the
matter itself, and that on account of these a definite matter is chosen for a definite form. There are
also some dispositions which proceed from the necessary character of matter, and not from the
choice of the agent. For instance, when an artisan chooses hardness in iron to make a saw in order
that it may be useful for sawing. But the fact that sharpness can be given to iron, and that it can
rust, results from the necessary character of matter. For the artisan would rather choose a matter in
which defects are not present, if it could be found. But because it cannot be found, the artisan does
not neglect to work with the available matter of this kind simply because of the defects intrinsic to
such matter. This also occurs in the human body, for, likewise, whatever is combined and disposed
according to parts in order that such a body may be best fitted for sentient operations, is selected in
this matter by the Maker of man. But that this body is corruptible, that it may become fatigued, and
have defects of this kind, follows from the necessary character of this matter. For the body, as a
mixture of contraries, must be subject to such defects. Nor can any objection be raised in view of
the fact that God could make it otherwise, because we do not investigate what God could make in
the establishment of nature, but what the nature of things undergoes as made, as Augustine says in
the Super Genesim ad litteram [II, 1].
Moreover, it must be recognized that when God remedied these defects in man at his creation, He
employed the help of original justice whereby the body was made subject completely to the soul
and the soul to God, so that neither death nor passion nor any defect could affect man unless the
soul were first separated from God. But when the soul turned away from God through sin, man was
deprived of this gift, and is subject to the defects which are intrinsic to the nature of matter.

n. 3. On what Aristotle understands by luck and chance, cf. the following:

Of things which come to be, some come to be for the sake of something and some
do not. Of the former, some [come to be] according to choice, and some not
according to choice; but both sorts are among those which are for the sake of [20]
something. Whence it is clear that, even in those which are beyond the necessary
and what is for the most part, there are some about which “that for the sake of
which” can be present. Whatever could be done by thought or by nature is for the
sake of something. Such things, then, when they come to be accidentally, we say
are by luck. For just as what is exists either in virtue of itself or accidentally, so
also can it [25] be a cause. For example, the art of house-building is the cause of
the house in virtue of itself, but accidentally, white or musical is. What is a cause
in virtue of itself, therefore, is determinate, but what is so accidentally is
indeterminate, for infinite things may chance to be in one thing. As was said,
therefore, when this comes to be among things which are [30] for the sake of
something, then it is said to be by chance and by luck.[1]
In the foregoing text, Aristotle explains that when the sort of thing done for the sake of something as
a result of nature or thought happens by accident, it is said to be ‘by luck’. For, in the words of St.
Thomas Aquinas (In II Phys., lect. 8, n. 10), luck is “an accidental cause in things which come to be
for the sake of a willed end and for the least part” (fortuna est causa per accidens in his quae fiunt
secundum propositum propter finem in minori parte, tr. Michael A. Augros). More explicitly, luck is
“an accidental cause in something which acts on account of an end proposed by reason, and of
other things, on account of which it does not act, which are nonetheless the kinds of things sought
or avoided on account of an end proposed by reason, and which come about by it for the least part”
(Michael A. Augros, Unpublished Paper). But the simultaneous occurrence of the battles at Salamis
and Himera[2] is of this sort, since it is something that could have been done for the sake of
something as a result of thought but was not (and this among those things which are for the least
part). Consequently, just as the art of the house-builder is the per se cause of the house, but the
white or the musical the incidental or per accidens cause insofar as the house-builder happens to
be white or musical (here what is accidental being conjoined to the cause), so also the per se cause
of the sea-fight at Salamis happening on the day that it did (let us say that it is the Athenian
commander Themistocles) is also the incidental cause of the battle with the Carthaginians in Sicily
because the per se cause could have intended this result, even though he did not; the two events
merely happening to occur on the same day (in this case the accidental being conjoined to the
effect). And so their happening at the same time, or co-incidence, is said to be ‘by luck’, and it is
Aristotle’s view that the recording of such a fact is proper to, as well as typical of, history; whereas
their being due to deliberate intention would make a good story, and so be appropriate to the poetic
art.
n. 4. On In II Sent., d. 1, q. 1, art. 4, ad 1, cf. c. and ad 1:
Respondeo dicendum, quod circa hanc quaestionem sunt tres positiones. Quarum una est, quod
Deus immediate operetur omnia, ita quod nihil aliud est causa alicujus rei; adeo quod dicunt quod
ignis non calefacit, sed Deus; nec manus movetur, sed Deus causat ejus motum, et sic de aliis. Sed
haec positio stulta est: quia ordinem tollit universi, et propriam operationem a rebus, et destruit
judicium sensus.

Secunda positio est quorumdam philosophorum, qui ut proprias operationes rerum sustineant,
Deum immediate omnia creare negant; sed dicunt, quod immediate est causa primi creati, et illud
est causa alterius, et sic deinceps. Sed haec opinio erronea est: quia secundum fidem non ponimus
Angelos creatores, sed solum Deum creatorem omnium visibilium et invisibilium.

Tertia positio est, quod Deus immediate omnia operatur, et quod res singulae proprias operationes
habent, per quas causae proximae rerum sunt, non tamen omnium, sed quorumdam: quia enim, ut
dictum est, secundum fidem non ponitur creatura aliqua aliam in esse producere per creationem,
nec virtute propria nec aliena; ideo omnium illorum quae per creationem in esse exeunt, solus Deus
immediate causa est.

Hujusmodi autem sunt quae per motum in esse exire non possunt, nec per generationem. Primo
propter simplicitatem essentiae suae, in qua subsistunt: quia omne quod generatur, oportet esse
compositum ex materia et forma; unde nec Angeli nec animae rationales possunt generari, sed
solum creari; secus autem de aliis formis, quae etiam si sint simplices, non tamen habent esse
absolutum, cum non sint subsistentes; unde exitus in esse non debetur eis, sed composito habenti
talem formam, quod per se generari dicitur, quasi per se esse habens. Formae vero praedictae non
dicuntur generari nisi per accidens: et eadem ratione materia prima, quae generationi substat,
propter sui simplicitatem non generatur, sed creatur.

Secundo, propter elongationem a contrarietate, ut corpora caelestia: omne enim quod generatur,
generatur ex contrario. Tertio, propter necessitatem generantis similis in specie generato: propter
quod primae hypostases immediate a Deo creatae sunt: ut primus homo, primus leo, et sic de aliis:
non enim homo generari potest nisi ab homine.

Aliter autem est de illis rebus ad quarum generationem non requiritur agens simile in specie, sed
sufficit virtus caelestis cum qualitatibus activis et passivis, ut quae ex putrefactione generantur.
Aliorum vero quae per motum et generationem producuntur, creatura causa esse potest, vel ita
quod habeat causalitatem supra totam speciem, sicut sol est causa in generatione hominis vel
leonis; vel ita quod habeat causalitatem ad unum individuum speciei tantum, sicut homo generat
hominem, et ignis ignem. Horum tamen causa etiam Deus est, magis intime in eis operans quam
aliae causae moventes: quia ipse est dans esse rebus. Causae autem aliae sunt quasi
determinantes illud esse. Nullius enim rei totum esse ab aliqua creatura principium sumit, cum
materia a Deo solum sit; esse autem est magis intimum cuilibet rei quam ea per quae esse
determinatur; unde et remanet, illis remotis, ut in libro de causis dicitur. Unde operatio creatoris
magis pertingit ad intima rei quam operatio causarum secundarum: et ideo hoc quod creatum est
causa alii creaturae, non excludit quin Deus immediate in rebus omnibus operetur, inquantum virtus
sua est sicut medium conjungens virtutem cujuslibet causae secundae cum suo effectu: non enim
virtus alicujus creaturae posset in suum effectum, nisi per virtutem creatoris, a quo est omnis virtus,
et virtutis conservatio, et ordo ad effectum; quia, ut in libro de causis dicitur, causalitas causae
secundae firmatur per causalitatem causae primae.
[3469] Super Sent., lib. 2 d. 1 q. 1 a. 4 ad 1Ad primum ergo dicendum, quod non est ex indigentia
Dei quod causis aliis indiget ad creandum, sed ex bonitate ipsius, qui etiam dignitatem causandi
aliis conferre voluit.
See also St. Thomas’ discussion of God’s causality in Super Primam Decretalem.
n. 5. On “quodcumque enim recipitur in altero, secundum modum recipientis recipitur”, cf. In II De
Anima, lect. 24, nn. 2-4:
CAN IN LIBROS DE ANIMA II ET III LB2 LC24N.-2

dicendum igitur, quod licet hoc sit omni patienti, quod recipiat formam ab agente, differentia tamen
est in modo recipiendi. nam forma, quae in patiente recipitur ab agente, quandoque quidem habet
eumdem modum essendi in patiente, quem habet in agente: et hoc quidem contingit, quando
patiens habet eamdem dispositionem ad formam, quam habet agens: quodcumque enim recipitur
in altero secundum modum recipientis recipitur. unde si eodem modo disponatur patiens sicut
agens, eodem modo recipitur forma in patiente sicut erat in agente; et tunc non recipitur forma sine
materia. licet enim illa et eadem materia numero quae est agentis, non fiat patientis, fit tamen
quodammodo eadem, inquantum similem dispositionem materialem ad formam acquirit ei quae erat
in agente. et hoc modo aer patitur ab igne, et quicquid patitur passione naturali.
CAN IN LIBROS DE ANIMA II ET III LB2 LC24N.-3

quandoque vero forma recipitur in patiente secundum alium modum essendi, quam sit in agente;
quia dispositio materialis patientis ad recipiendum, non est similis disposition materiali, quae est in
agente. Et ideo forma recipitur in patiente sine materia, inquantum patiens assimilatur agenti
secundum formam, et non secundum materiam. Et per hunc modum, sensus recipit formam sine
materia, quia alterius modi esse habet forma in sensu, et in re sensibili. nam in re sensibili habet
esse naturale, in sensu autem habet esse intentionale et spirituale.

CAN IN LIBROS DE ANIMA II ET III LB2 LC24N.-4

et ponitur conveniens exemplum de sigillo et cera. non enim eadem disposition est cerae ad
imaginem, quae erat in ferro et auro. et ideo subiungit, quod cera accipit signum idest imaginem
sive figuram auream aut aeneam, sed non inquantum est aurum aut aes. assimilatur enim cera
aureo sigillo quantum ad imaginem, sed non quantum ad dispositionem auri. et similiter sensus
patitur a sensibili habente colorem aut humorem, idest

saporem aut sonum, sed non inquantum unumquodque illorum dicitur, idest non patitur a lapide
colorato inquantum lapis, neque a melle dulci inquantum mel: quia in sensu non fit similis dispositio
ad formam quae est in subiectis illis, sed patitur ab eis inquantum huiusmodi, vel inquantum
coloratum, vel saporosum, vel secundum rationem, idest secundum formam. assimilatur enim
sensus sensibili secundum formam, sed non secundum dispositionem materiae.

n. 6. On the citation of Revue Thomiste:

Cf. “Réflexions sur le problème de l’Indéterminisme”, Revue Thomiste t. 43 (1937), pp. 227-252 and
393-409, translated as “Reflections on the Problem of Indeterminism” in The Writings of Charles De
Koninck, Vol. 1 (Notre Dame, 2008), pp. 401-442. See esp. pp. 407-411 on contingency in nature.
Cf. also David Quackenbush, “De Koninck’s Cosmos”. Lecture given at Thomas Aquinas College on
March 11, 2011.[3]
n. 7. On Emile Borel:
Cf. “God and the Laws of Science: The Laws of Probability” by Jeff Miller, Ph.D:[4]
THE SINGLE LAW OF CHANCE

The second problem with the assertion of evolutionary inevitability is implied by the work of the
renowned French mathematician, Emile Borel, for whom the lunar crater, Borel, is named
(O’Connor and Robertson, 2008). In 1962, Borel discussed in depth the law of probability known as
the Single Law of Chance—a law that he said “is extremely simple and intuitively evident, though
rationally undemonstrable” (1962, p. 2). This principle states that “events whose probability is
extremely small never occur” (1965, p. 57). He further stated that we “at least…must act, in all
circumstances, as if they were impossible” (1962, p. 3, italics in orig.). The law, he said, applies to
the sort of event, which, though its impossibility may not be rationally
demonstrable, is, however, so unlikely that no sensible person will hesitate to
declare it actually impossible. If someone affirmed having observed such an event
we would be sure that he is deceiving us or has himself been the victim of a fraud
(1962, p. 3, italics in orig., emp. added).
To clarify the meaning of “extremely small” probabilities, he defined different categories of events in
which the probabilities are so small that they are “practically negligible,” including events from the
human, terrestrial, and cosmic perspectives (1965, p. 57).

In his discussion on the probabilities of certain cosmic events, he argues convincingly from
mathematical calculations and intuition that reasonable human beings consider probabilities of
chance cosmic events that fall below one in 1045 to be negligible (1965, p. 59). In other words, if the
probability of a certain event happening in the Universe is less than one in 10 45 (i.e., a one with 45
zeros after it), human beings intuitively categorize that event as so unlikely that we consider it to be
an impossible event.

Several years ago, evolutionist Harold Morowitz of Yale, and currently professor of biology and
natural philosophy at George Mason University, estimated the probability of the formation of the
smallest and simplest living organism to be one in 10340,000,000 (1970, p. 99). A few years following
Morowitz’s calculations, the late, renowned evolutionist Carl Sagan made his own estimation of the
chance that life could evolve on any given single planet: one in 10 2,000,000,000 (1973, p. 46)! Note also
that these calculations were made before the last several decades have revealed with even more
clarity the complexity of life (cf. Deweese, 2010). These probability estimations for the formation of
life, made by the evolutionists themselves, are, of course, so far beyond the limit articulated for
cosmic events by the Single Law of Chance that we must respond in shock, rather than humor, at
the big lie that has been perpetrated on the world at large by so many in the scientific community in
thrusting macroevolution on the masses. The distinguished British astronomer, Sir Fred Hoyle once
said regarding evolution, “the chance that higher forms have emerged in this way is comparable
with the chance that a tornado sweeping through a junk-yard might assemble a Boeing 747 from
the materials therein” (1981b, 294:105). He further stated:

At all events, anyone with even a nodding acquaintance with the Rubik cube will concede the near-
impossibility of a solution being obtained by a blind person moving the cubic faces at random. Now
imagine 1050 blind persons each with a scrambled Rubik cube, and try to conceive of the chance of
them all simultaneously arriving at the solved form. You then have the chance of arriving by random
shuffling at just one of the many biopolymers on which life depends. The notion that not only
biopolymers but the operating programme of a living cell could be arrived at by chance in a
primordial organic soup here on the Earth is evidently nonsense of a high order (1981a, 92:527,
emp. in orig.).

Borel’s Single Law of Chance certainly lays plain the impossibility and incredibility of the
evolutionary proposition. However, Borel tried to distance himself from the implications of his
findings and their application to the spontaneous emergence of life by noting that the laws of
chance do “not seem possible to apply” to some evolutionary events (1963, p. 125, emp. added).
He further stated:

[I]t is generally held that living beings are the result of a slow process of
evolution, beginning with elementary organisms, and that this process of
evolution involves certain properties of living matter that prevent us from
asserting that the process was accomplished in accordance with the laws of
chance (1963, p. 125).
In other words, evolutionary processes are not considered a succession of random, chance events.
Instead, it seems that they are considered intentional events that somehow occur without intention.
However, since non-living matter has no mind of its own, the progression of events that would have
to occur to lead to the optimal arrangement of that matter allegedly to bring about life would have to
be just that—a succession of random, chance events. In making the assertion that the laws of
chance do not apply to evolution, he tacitly acknowledges the fact that the evolutionary model
would actually require multiple, successive random events taking place gradually over time in order
to bring even the pre-living “organism” to a place in which life could allegedly burst into existence.
And as if to further drive the tombstone into the grave, according to Borel, himself, “[i]t is repetition
that creates improbability” (1962, p. 3). Such almost endless successive random events would
actually create more of a problem for evolution. “[I]t is their [the successive repetition of improbable
events leading towards significant complexity—JM] almost indefinite repetition that creates
improbability and rightly seems to us impossible” (1962, pp. 3-4, emp. added). After all of these
successive evolutionary events leading towards life, the final random, chance event in which all the
circumstances happen to be “just right” to bring about the jump from non-life to life is so
improbable, according to the evolutionists themselves, that the Single Law of Chance would
consider the event impossible and not worthy of human attention. [NOTE: We are not suggesting
that it is possible for life to be spontaneously created from non-life, no matter what the
circumstances or arrangements of matter may be. We are only noting the implications of the
evolutionists’ own arguments and their application to the laws of science.]

REFERENCES
Borel, Emile (1962), Probabilities and Life (New York: Dover).
Borel, Emile (1963), Probability and Certainty (New York: Walker & Company).
Borel, Emile (1965), Elements of the Theory of Probability (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall).
Dawkins, Richard (1982), “The Necessity of Darwinism,” New Scientist, 94:130-132, April 15.
Deweese, Joe (2010), “Has Life Been Made From Scratch?”
http://www.apologeticspress.org/articles/240389.

DeYoung, Donald (2005), Thousands…Not Billions (Green Forest, AR: Master Books).
Erwin, Douglas (2000), “Macroevolution is More Than Repeated Rounds of
Microevolution,” Evolution and Development, 2[2]:78-84.
Gubner, J.A. (2006), Probability and Random Processes for Electrical and Computer
Engineers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Hoyle, Fred (1981a), “The Big Bang in Astronomy,” New Scientist, 92:521-527, November 19.
Hoyle, Fred (1981b), “Hoyle on Evolution,” Nature, 294:105,148, November 12.
Jackson, Wayne (1983), “Our Earth—Young or Old?,”
http://www.apologeticspress.org/rr/reprints/yng-old.pdf.

May, Branyon, et al. (2003), “The Big Bang Theory—A Scientific Critique,” Reason & Revelation,
23[5]: 32-34,36-47, May, http://www.apologeticspress.org/articles/2635.
Miller, Jeff (2007), “God and the Laws of Thermodynamics: A Mechanical Engineer’s
Perspective,” Reason & Revelation, 27[4]:25-31, April,
http://www.apologeticspress.org/articles/3293.
Morowitz, Harold J. (1970), Entropy for Biologists (New York: Academic Press).
Morris, H. (1974), “The Young Earth,” Acts & Facts, 3[8], http://www.icr.org/article/young-earth.
O’Connor, John J. and Edmund F. Robertson (2008), “Felix Edouard Justin Emile Borel,” The
MacTutor History of Mathematics Archive, http://www-history.mcs.st-
andrews.ac.uk/Mathematicians/Borel.html.
Sagan, Carl, ed. (1973), Communications with Extra-terrestrial Intelligence (Boston, MA: MIT
Press).
Simpson, George G. and William S. Beck (1965), Life: An Introduction to Biology (New York:
Harcourt, Brace & World).
Smith, Anthony (1975), The Human Pedigree (Philadelphia, PA: J.B. Lippencott).
Sproul, R.C., John Gerstner, and Arthur Lendsley (1984), Classical Apologetics (Grand Rapids, MI:
Zondervan).
Thompson, Bert (1989), “The Bible and the Laws of Science: The Law of Biogenesis,” Reason &
Revelation, 9[6]:21-24, June, http://www.apologeticspress.org/articles/330.
Thompson, Bert (2001), “The Young Earth,” http://www.apologeticspress.org/articles/1991.

Wald, George (1954), “The Origin of Life,” Scientific American, 191:45-53, August.
Cf. also the following quotation:

Probabilities must be regarded as analogous to the measurement of physical

magnitudes; that is to say, they can never be known exactly, but only within a
certain approximation.
Émile Borel
— Probabilities and Life
n. 8. On “the victory of form over matter”:
Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, Book II: Creation. Translated, with an
Introduction and Notes by James F. Anderson (Notre Dame, 1975), ch. 30, nn. 8-13:
[8] In created things, however, there are diverse modes of necessity arising from diverse causes.
For, since a thing cannot be without its essential principles, which are matter and form, whatever
belongs to a thing by reason of its essential principles must have absolute necessity in all cases.
[9] Now, from these principles, so far as they are principles of existing, there arises a threefold
absolute necessity in things. First, through the relation of a thing’s principles to its act of being.
Since matter is by its nature a being in potentiality, and since that which can be can also not be, it
follows that certain things, in relation to their matter, are necessarily corruptible animals because
they are composed of contraries; fire because its matter is receptive of contraries. On the other
hand, form is by its nature act, and through it things exist in act; so that from it there results in some
things a necessity to be. And this happens either because those things are forms not existing in
matter, so that there is no potentiality to non-being in them, but rather by their forms they are always
able to be, as in the case of separate substances; or because their forms equal in their perfection
the total potentiality of their matter, so that there remains no potentiality to another form, nor
consequently, to non-being; such is the case with the heavenly bodies. But in things whose form
does not fulfill the total potentiality of the matter, there still remains in the matter potentiality to
another form; and hence in such things there is no necessity to be; rather, the power to be is in
them the result of the victory of form over matter, as we see in the elements and things
composed of them. The form of an element does not embrace the matter in its total potentiality, for
matter receives the form of one element only by being made subject to one of two contraries; but
the form of a mixed body embraces the matter according as it is disposed by a certain kind of
mixture. Now, contraries, and all intermediaries resulting from the mixture of extremes, must have a
common identical subject. The manifest consequence of this fact is that all things which either have
contraries or are composed of contraries are corruptible, whereas things not of this sort are
everlasting—unless they be corrupted accidentally, as forms which are not subsistent but which
exist by being in matter.
[10] Secondly, from essential principles of things absolute necessity arises in them from the order of
the parts of their matter or of their form, if it happens that in certain things these principles are not
simple. For, since man’s proper matter is a mixed body, having a certain temperament and
endowed with organs, it is absolutely necessary that a man have in himself each of the elements
and humours and principal organs. Even so, if man is a rational mortal animal, and this is his nature
or form, then it is necessary for him to be both animal and rational.
[11] Thirdly, there is absolute necessity in things from the order of their essential principles to the
properties flowing from their matter or form; a saw, because it is made of iron, must be hard; and a
man is necessarily capable of learning.
[12] However, the agent’s necessity has reference both to the action itself and the resulting effect.
Necessity in the former case is like the necessity that an accident derives from essential principles;
just as other accidents result from the necessity of essential principles, so does action from the
necessity of the form by which the agent actually exists; for as the agent actually is, so does it act.
But this necessitation of action by form is different in the case of action that remains in the agent
itself, as understanding and willing, and in action which passes into something else, as heating. In
the first case, the necessity of the action itself results from the form by which the agent is made
actual, because in order for this kind of action to exist, nothing extrinsic, as a terminus for it, is
required. Thus, when the sense power is actualized by the sensible species, it necessarily acts; and
so, too, does the intellect when it is actualized by the intelligible species. But in the second case,
the action’s necessity results from the form, so far as the power to act is concerned; if fire is hot, it
necessarily has the power of heating, yet it need not heat, for something extrinsic may prevent it.
Nor in this question does it make any difference whether by its form one agent alone suffices to
carry out an action, or whether many agents have to be assembled in order to perform a single
action—as, for example, many men to pull a boat—because all are as one agent, who is put in act
by their being united together in one action.
[13] Now, the necessity in the effect or thing moved, resulting from the efficient or moving cause,
depends not only on the efficient cause, but also on the condition of the thing moved and of the
recipient of the agent’s action; for the recipient is either in no way receptive of the effect of such
action—as wool to be made into a saw—or else its receptivity is impeded by contrary agents or by
contrary dispositions in the movable or by contrary forms, to such an extent that the agent’s power
is ineffective; a feeble heat will not melt iron. In order that the effect follow, it is therefore necessary
that receptivity exist in the patient, and that the patient be under the domination of the agent, so that
the latter can transform it to a contrary disposition. And if the effect in the patient resulting from the
agent’s victory over it is contrary to the natural disposition of the patient, then there will be necessity
by way of violence, as when a stone is thrown upwards. But if the effect is not contrary to the
natural disposition of its subject, there will be necessity not of violence, but of natural order; the
movement of the heaven, for example, results from an extrinsic active principle, and yet it is not
contrary to the natural disposition of the movable subject, and hence is not a violent but a natural
movement. This is true also in the alteration of lower bodies by the heavenly bodies, for there is a
natural inclination in lower bodies to receive the influence of higher bodies. Such is the case, also,
in the generation of the elements; for the form to be engendered is not contrary to prime matter,
which is the subject of generation, although it is contrary to the form that is to be cast aside; for
matter existing under a contrary form is not the subject of generation.
n. 9. On mutations appearing by chance, cf. “The Lifeless World of Biology,” fn. 11:
11 I must not convey the impression that Professor Beck’s negation of purpose in nature is the
common view amongst biologists today. Quite the opposite was held by Guyenot and Cuenot, who,
in their later years, could reconcile random mutations with finality; and by C. H. Waddington, a
scientist who is fully aware of the limitations of mathematics in biology, as may be seen from a
reading of his The Strategy of Genes.
n. 10. On “the depth of the divine causality,” perhaps De Koninck has in mind the course of
reasoning he pursues in “The Nature of Man and His Historical Being,” footnote 12:
12 There is, of course, a sense in which even the absolute being or a man is an historical one,
since natural improbability, further augmented by chance and fortune, renders his very coming-to-
be quite unpredictable, and irrational m the same measure. When we view it in the light of created
causes alone, the generation of this individual in particular is so unlikely as to verge on the
impossible. Even within the relatively narrow margin of the proximate possibilities just before
conception, his chance is but one out of a quarter-billion. As we recede into the past and look
forward, the unlikeliness spirals out into an increasing improbability interwoven with chance and
fortune. Hence, if nature intended this individual, she would be like the man who takes a bath so
that the sun might be eclipsed. (Aristotle, Phys. II, chap. 6. 197b25.—“Natura enim intendit
generare hominem, non hunc hominem; nisi inquantum homo non potest esse, nisi sit hic homo.”
St. Thomas, Quaestio disputat de Anima, a. 18. c.) This individual, to be sure, is a work of nature, at
least as to his substantial being. But originally he was no more intended than was the fact that this
particular fragment of birdshot should down the duck—in fact considerably less so. Although the
generation of Socrates Jr. is ultimately a natural event, his already very tenuous possibility could
only materialize owing to a strictly fortuitous event. It was quite by chance that Socrates first met
Xanthippe.

[1] Phys., II. 5, 196b 18-30 (tr. R. Glen Coughlin)

[2] Cf. Poet. Ch. 23 (1459a 17–30) (tr. B.A.M.):
As for the art imitative in narrative and in metre, it is clear that its plots should be
constructed the way they are in tragedies, dramatically, and around one action,
whole and complete, [20] having a beginning, middles, and an end, so that, like
one whole living thing, it may produce its proper pleasure—and not be like the
compositions of histories where what is required is an exposition not of one
action, but of one period of time, and whatever happened during it, whether to
one man or to many, of which each [incident] stands to the other just as it
happens. For [25] as the sea-fight at Salamis and the battle with the
Carthaginians in Sicily took place at the same time without tending to the same
end; so also in those things which take place in successive times, one thing may
sometimes happen after another from which no one end results. But almost all of
the poets [30] do this.