“The Natural Providence” by John Burroughs

“…there is nothing aritificial in Nature.”

– John Burroughs, “The Natural Providence”

This is a fairly interesting article, and if you haven’t read it yet, you might think about giving it a shot. For me, it really helped to put things in perspective, as we to say so often. Furthermore, if you haven’t quite gotten the idea in your head that you’re just a single organism on a single planet orbiting a single star in a single galaxy in a universe and that you’re only going to be around for a single fraction of a second, this might help you in realizing that wonderfully sobering truth.

It may seem cynical, but really, it’s not. It’s the truth, and the sooner we all find beauty in that, the better.

I think this is where Burroughs really helps. On the one hand, he makes sure in the beginning of his article to outline the fact that Nature is Nature: she (or he, it, etc.) is not to be evaluated anthropocentrically, nor are we to evaluate her in any terms but her own. It’s difficult to do so (coming to the conclusion that, say, cows weren’t made so we could eat steaks is a bit more challenging than you think), but in the end, it’s the only way that we’ll ever be able to find truth in this universe.

Burroughs is basically saying that Nature is so grand, the universe so large, that any sort of human tendency to make dualistic or categorical descriptions of those two formerly mentioned is ultimately fallacious. Human terms, which are built out of short and tiny human experiences, cannot begin to describe the realities of Nature and the universe at large.

It sort puts all of the scientific jargon and theories sort of into perspective, doesn’t it? I mean, if we do accept the fact that Burroughs is right about our inability to describe Nature in our personal worldviews, what sort of implications does Burroughs’ thesis (I use the term loosely) have for the seemingly objective “worldview” given to us by science? To what extent is science valuable in describing Nature?

“As far as I have got, or ever hope to get, toward solving the problem of the universe is to see clearly that it is insoluble,” Burroughs states. However, to be fair to the clamoring masses of white lab coats, it seems as if the process by which he was able to get somewhere by his admittance of utter confusing was a philosophic and not scientific one. Though we certainly can’t be sure from this one essay, we can be reasonably sure that Burroughs was not toying with quantum physics and string theory, nor was he pioneering research in genetics. He was a writer and, by necessity, a philosopher.

So could one make the argument that Burroughs falls short of solving the problem because he is using ill-adapted tools? Sure. Could one continue further and make the argument that a scientist equipped with a microscope or a telescope is far better suited for the job of unraveling the mysteries of the universe? Of course. But would they be right? Hmm…suffice it to say, I am not convinced.

But to continue the discussion of Burroughs more precisely, let us leave those questions of epistemology on the wayside, at least for now.

One interesting idea, and perhaps the most interesting idea that he spells out, is that Natural Providence is the action of Infinity in reality. It’s pretty strange, when you really think about it. At first, I sort of just skimmed through the bit where Burroughs introduces the idea of the Infinite. But now, thinking back on it, it’s pretty strange. Burroughs is basically saying that a metaphysical concept is acting in the physical world. How is this possible?

Let’s be clear here: Burroughs could be using the word “Infinite” as a much more glamorous substitute for the word “Time.” And to an extent, he probably is. But I think that he ascribes a sort of holy significance to the Infinite, something beyond the simple continuance of existence. Burroughs really is talking about something that exists in the past, present, and future, a characteristic that cannot be ascribed (at least in my understanding) to time. Time exists in the present, but it has no true existence in the future, nor does it have true existence in the past, just as you and I may well exist now in the present, but are certainly not existing the past and future all at once.

That said, I think a more accurate description of what Burroughs is talking about is Potentiality. What he is essentially saying is that there are innumerable possible futures, and of these, only a few are chosen. However, in many cases, those possible futures contain within them the futures that were neglected. It’s a hard concept to fit your mind around, but in a way, it makes sense.

Think of it this way: if in the future, I choose to have ice cream instead of a cookie, the fact that I chose the ice cream does not preclude the eventual consumption of a cookie in a later future. Similarly, if life had not arisen approximately three and a half billion years ago, that does not mean it could not have arisen two and a half billion years ago (that is, if we ignore the change in initial conditions that led to the rise of life three and a half billion years ago, but would not have been present two and a half billion years ago, etc.).

What I think is interesting about all this is that basically Burroughs is talking about probability. It’s cold hard statistics, in a way. “…in a world of conflicting forces like ours, chance plays an important part; many of the nuts get scattered, and not all devoured.” For Burroughs, it seems as if it all comes down to random luck that we’re here at all, and it may well be so. And to those who would argue that Earth is far too perfect for our existence to be “just chance,” I think Burroughs responds well in saying that “It [Nature] hits its mark because it hits all marks.”

The easy thing to do, now, of course, is to assume that there is meaninglessness. It is a strange phenomenon of human psychology to ascribe meaning with order and meaninglessness with chaos. As to why this is so, that will have to be for another meditation, but it is a compelling idea. Nonetheless, I suppose for some reason, a reason I feel that I am unable to articulate at this point, there isn’t a meaninglessness for me in this chaos, if it is even that. It’s more of a realization that even if it is mere chance, perhaps the existentialists like Camus were right: life’s meaning is the meaning we make for it.

 Bryson Nitta