In Origin of the Species, in Chapter 6, in the paragraph immediately before the summary, Charles Darwin wrote:
“It may be difficult, but we ought to admire the savage instinctive hatred of the queen-bee, which urges her instantly to destroy the young queens her daughters as soon as born, or to perish herself in the combat; for undoubtedly this is for the good of the community; and maternal love or maternal hatred, though the latter fortunately is most rare, is all the same to the inexorable principle of natural selection.”
It is not just difficult; it is impossible. I don’t want to admire “savage instinctive hatred” or to see its justification in the “good of the community.” I refuse.
If maternal love and maternal hatred are “all the same” to the principle upon which life is founded and organized, then the universe is a horrible place to live.
Lost Borders 
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January 11, 2008 at 3:47 pm
Jake
Wow, brother. I don’t remember reading that on my (admittedly not too recent) last reading of the OoS. Do you think there are ways to spin that passage more successfully than the author himself was able to?
January 11, 2008 at 6:35 pm
Ken
I have been thinking about this and need to think about it more. Here is what is going on in my thoughts now.
In a way, trying to defend nature, as Darwin did here, involves a process something like trying to defend God given the evil and suffering and death that are part of life as it is. One problem is that I don’t think science can defend nature. Science is, and I think must be, indifferent. When Darwin says that instinctive maternal hatred and love are the same in the sense that they both result from natural selection, he is making a scientific observation. When he says that we ought to admire it, I don’t think this is a scientific observation. It requires some system of value other than indifference – “ought” and “admire” are not the words of indifference.
It is possible to defend God in ways not available to science. Or, it is possible to just confront God as Job did. I suppose in my posting I was confronting nature in the way that Job confronted God.
I think what Darwin did was to use a utilitarian ethic (the good of the community) to suggest that indifference, even to instinctive maternal hatred ought to be admired in the context of natural selection.
I think this raises as much conflict between natural selection and theology as does the topic of creation. Theology has always needed to deal with evil, suffering and death. To me natural selection seems to complicate the problem because it seems to imply that things we might consider cruel are absolutely essential to life. On the other hand, maybe it does not complicate the problem – many theologies regard all of creation as being in need of redemption.
I suppose my tendency is to see cosmic benevolence in nature. I am trying to reconcile that with natural selection. I think Darwin saw cosmic grandeur, but not benevolence unless that benevolence is seen in the tendency to support life inherent in things like variation, adaptation and, above all, in natural selection.
So, those are a sample of the thoughts struggling with each other for survival in my mind right now.
January 13, 2008 at 8:04 pm
Jake
How appropriate that you have a battle of survival of ideas in your head as you consider benevolence and evolution…
Anyway, a struggle it will be. As Wendell Berry’s character, Jayber Crow, speaks with his theology professor:
“So,” I said, “I reckon what it all comes down to is, how can I preach if I don’t have any answers?”
“Yes, Mr. Crow,” he said. “How can you?” He was not one of your frying-size chickens.
“I don’t believe I can,” I said, and I felt my skin turn cold, for I had not even thought that until then.
He said, “No, I don’t believe you can.” And we sat there and looked at each other again while he waited for me to see the next thing, so he wouldn’t have to tell me: I oughtn’t waste any time resigning my scholarship and leaving Pigeonville. I saw it soon enough.
I said, “Well,” for now I was ashamed, “I had this feeling maybe I had been called.”
“And you may have been right. But not to what you thought. Not to what you think. You have been given questions to which you cannot be given answers. You will have to live them out — perhaps a little at a time.”
“And how long is that going to take?”
“I don’t know. As long as you live, perhaps.”
“That could be a long time.”
“I will tell you a further mystery,” he said. “It may take longer.”
January 14, 2008 at 2:15 am
Ken
Wendell Berry is such a wise man. One of these days I need to give more time to reading his work.
I do hope to further sort these thoughts into categories so that I can at least more clearly see the options and what is at stake even if I never find an answer, or a reconciliation. I find Darwin’s writing very helpful in seeing the options and what is at stake. He had a fine mind and was so transparent and modest in presenting the world as he saw it. I would love to be able to talk to him. Fortunately, I have friends with the same attributes that I can talk to.
January 18, 2008 at 3:57 am
JakeB
I agree, Darwin was unique in his willingness to face the true upshot of his conclusions, and deal with them directly, at least on the page. I don’t know much about his personal life after his Beagle voyage, but I imagine it didn’t lack for tumult.
More soon.