Peter ATKINS, On being.

A Scientist's Exploration of the Great Questions of Existence, Oxford

University Press, Oxford / New York 2011, xv + 115 pp.

At this stage there is no need to introduce Peter Atkins, a fellow of Lincoln College, University
of Oxford and a world-renowned chemistry professor. Moreover, he has written some popular
science bestsellers. In these pages devoted to the great questions of existence –the beginning
of the universe, emergence of life and its evolution, birth, death, the end of the universe– he
honours more than enough his reputation for being a clear, witty, caustic and engaging writer.
To read this short book would be a pleasure, were it not for its gross scientism and the
impression one ends up with of not having gone at all deeply into the essence of being, as the
book's title promises.

The prologue is probably the most substantial part of the book. It is where Atkins
presents his conception of scientific method and formulates the two guiding principles of his
worldview: the most radical physicalism (or naturalism or materialism, all terms are synonyms
for him) and scientism.

For Atkins, scientific method consists essentially of a distillation of common sense (in
alliance with honesty): to make observations and compare notes. However, of course, with
much more exactness than that required by everyday life. That's why «science has as a central
principle the publicly shared, controlled observation that we call experiment, and where
appropriate is guided, enhanced, and propagated by the austerely logical rigour of
mathematics» (p. ix). Scientific method so understood is said to be of boundless reach and able
therefore to illuminate all questions, even the most profound ones human beings wonder
about; furthermore, it can offer answers to these questions that are more truthful and
accurate than those delivered by religion, a mere remnant of mythology. But is Atkins'
definition of scientific method not too vague, too wide?

The ultimate reason of scientific method being of boundless reach is, according to the
British chemist, that everything existing is physical or material in character and, therefore,
susceptible of being empirically observed. What allows us to affirm that all that exists is of
physical nature, denying squarely the existence of anything non-physical? The fact that we do
not have any empirical evidence of something non-physical, the fact that alleged non-physical
reality cannot be studied by science, the only and exclusive avenue to sure knowledge (see p.
x). Are we not falling here, inadvertently, into the trap of circular reasoning? This intertwining
of scientism and physicalism is subject to another serious objection: that of being self-
contradictory in the last analysis. Indeed, what empirical evidence is there for the thesis that
scientific method is the only genuine means for discovering the true nature of reality? As
Atkins knows well that there is none, he has got no alternative but to appeal to faith ( scientific
faith, of course): «My own faith, my scientific faith, is that there is nothing that the scientific
method cannot illuminate and elucidate» (p. 104). Yet, he himself underlines, «faith is not
evidence» (p. 43). Let's recall that the claim of scientism is that science makes all faith
unnecessary...

It is undeniable that Atkins' presentation of the various subjects which this book
addresses is full of wit as well as of scientific rigour and honesty (and occasionally much
coarseness, as in the chapter devoted to death). His intention is to show, first, the enormous
power of the understanding already reached by science and, second, that what science reveals
about reality is all there is. To look for an additional sense for the universe and for life, to try
see the hand of a Supreme Being operating in and guiding natural evolution, to hope that
death does not have the final say, yielding ultimately to a renovated life: all that is absolutely
superfluous and must be left out if Occam's razor be applied. The only problem is that what
Atkins regards as unnecessary elaboration, as «jam on the plain bread of [scientific]
explanation» (p. 34) has huge relevance for many people, for whom the real great questions of
existence begin exactly where he leaves them. Or must we admit that, once you know what
mitosis and meiosis are, there is nothing else to say about the wonder of the conception and
birth of a new human being? Does having a perfect scientific knowledge of what causes both
albor mortis and rigor mortis help in the slightest to better handle the tragedy of the
unexpected death of a close relative or friend or cease from fearing our own personal
disappearance?

A last short remark: Atkins' book does not make any real contribution to the dialogue
between science and religion, because he prefers deriding creationists, rapture enthusiasts
and other extremists to engaging into deep conversation with serious, open-minded and well-
balanced theological thinking. He grants that such thinking is not completely unreasonable and
deserves even some respect; but since unfortunately it lacks all empirical support, it is not
worthy of any attention. Should we apply the same criterion to what Atkins tries to tell us in
this handful of pages?