Catholic Teachings  -  Evolution

by James B. Stenson

Since 1859, when Charles Darwin first published his *Origin of Species*, 
the scientific question of evolution has aroused intense and often bitter 
controversy.  Time and again over the years, a supposed conflict between 
"science" and "religion" has raged in the public forums--in courtrooms, 
classrooms, and the press.  This past decade has witnessed a new and even 
more heated debate concerning textbooks and school curricula.

Television has not ignored the dramatic possibilities of these 
confrontations.  On newscasts and talk shows, partisans from both sides 
have had their say on camera.  On the one hand, fundamentalist Protestants 
have insisted on an absolutely literal interpretation of Genesis: a 
"special creation" of each separate species in only seven days, beginning a 
few thousand years ago.  Opposing them, some  scientists-turned-celebrities 
have proclaimed with equal fervor the supreme triumph of chance: matter 
blindly developing from molecules to man, with no intervention by a Deity, 
and no need for One to explain anything.  Thus the controversy has been 
reduced, in public perception, to a disquieting choice--"superstition" vs. 
"atheism."

What is a Catholic to make of this? To anyone who knows even a little 
theology and science, the choice presented here is clearly false.  In this, 
as in so many other heated controversies, the first casualty is truth.  The 
Catholic faith is dedicated to truth, indeed to Truth Himself.  And 
science, open-mindedly and fairly exercised, is committed  to the pursuit 
of truthful knowledge.  A Catholic should suspect, therefore, even before 
studying the question closely, that faith and scientific knowledge must 
complement, not contradict, each other.

This suspicion is confirmed by fact.  The more one studies what the 
Catholic Church teaches and what science knows for certain, the more 
clearly he sees that Catholic faith and scientific knowledge are wholly 
compatible.  The conflicts being aired today are really a pseudo-
controversy.  Dogmatic fundamentalists do not reflect Catholic tradition, 
and dogmatic evolutionists do not fairly represent science.

In the following pages, we want to examine briefly what the Church has 
clearly taught and what science has clearly learned about evolution, 
especially in recent years.  By an honest pursuit of the truth, we can 
avoid entanglement in pointless disputes, like the Sadducees whom Our Lord 
upbraided so long ago--those who "knew neither the scriptures nor the power 
of God" (Mt. 22,29).

What does "evolution" mean?

Any intelligent understanding of a complex problem requires, at the outset, 
a definition of terms.  In fact, much of the present confusion  stems from 
a vague association of several meanings with the term "evolution." Properly 
speaking, the word should embrace a biological concept founded on careful 
scientific study from several interrelated disciplines.  But by extension 
the term has also been used in other senses--historical, sociological, and 
philosophical.  We will concern ourselves here with the two principal 
definitions that impinge upon religious faith: the biological and 
philosophical.

For a properly scientific definition of the term, we may cite a formula  
established by fifty internationally known scientists at the Darwin  
Centennial Celebration, held in 1959: "*Evolution* is definable in general  
terms as a one-way irreversible process in time, which in its course  
generates novelty, diversity, and higher levels of organization."

In the field of biology (where revolutionary studies have been most 
extensive and productive), the term more specifically means: "a process 
whereby organisms change with the passage of time so that descendants 
differ from their ancestors."

Note that these definitions deal with a *process*, a succession of 
observable events measured over time.  Science deals essentially and 
necessarily with material phenomena, those which can be measured.  It tries 
to deduce reasonable explanations for the cause-and-effect relationships 
between events.  Because it limits itself to material facts, its 
generalizations are necessarily mechanical.  A biologist concerns himself 
with *how* events occur.  For him, the question *why* lies outside the 
proper limits of his discipline.

This is important because, in the properly scientific sense, "evolution" as 
a *how* question poses no problem for Catholic belief. For decades now, 
scientists have established a chronology of how life forms succeeded one 
another over eons of time.  It is beyond reasonable doubt that some sort of 
process has taken place. (As we shall see later, the mechanics of this 
succession have yet to be fully understood.)  Whatever science determines 
on this *how* level is compatible with a Catholic principle: that God 
ordinarily carries out His creative acts in natural ways.

No problems with Christian belief generally arise when "evolution" is 
loosely used in a broad philosophical sense.  This meaning is substantially 
different from the scientific one above.  It may be defined as follows: "an 
ideological frame of mind which sees the entire universe in terms of 
matter-in-development and which consciously denies the existence of 
spiritual or supernatural reality; all phenomena--scientific, historical, 
economic, and  social--are explainable in exclusively material terms."

This understanding of "evolution" is not scientific, though it derives much 
prestige from association with the sciences.  It is not founded on 
experimental knowledge or rational deduction.  It is rather a preconceived 
set of attitudes and values, a prejudice that is not merely unscientific, 
but irrational.  For it is altogether credulous to hold that complex organs 
like the eye are not indicative of an ordering intelligence, but are 
instead the result of blind chance which of course cannot know or plan the 
end (seeing) to which the eye's single parts combine and evolve.  In fact, 
it is a latter-day form of philosophical materialism which has been with us 
since the time of the Greeks.

Inasmuch as it is really an outlook on life, it is a kind of religion.   
Properly speaking, therefore, this set of beliefs should not be called  
"evolution" but rather "evolutionism".  To subscribe to creation (which  is 
*not* the same as "creationism"), that is, the contingent world's  ultimate 
dependence on a necessary, creative being, is not, on the  contrary, an act 
of religion at all.  It is a matter of philosophy, of  drawing sure 
conclusions from incontrovertible premises.

Like the other religion-substitute "isms" of our time, evolutionism has 
adherents from all walks of life.  Some physicists, astronomers, and 
geneticists believe in it.  But so do many journalists, economists,  
teachers, and historians--and cab-drivers and businessmen and poets.   The 
atheism of a biochemist is really no more significant than that of  a file 
clerk, but it can have more sway on public opinion.

A Catholic can, as we shall see, give qualified assent to evolution in  the 
scientific sense but not to evolutionism.  The fact is that many  
scientists engaged in evolutionary studies are themselves devout Catholics.   
These people see no contradiction between what the Church teaches and what  
science, as science, has learned.  Let us examine why this is so.*

Catholic teachings*

It comes as a surprise to many Catholics to learn how little the church  
teaches in this area--how few tenets are established as true beyond doubt,  
and therefore how much latitude is left to Catholics for their personal  
judgment.  The Church has not been concerned with evolutionary questions  
as such, but rather with their possible implications for Catholic belief.

The Church has maintained that the first three chapters of Genesis contain 
historical truth.  Their inspired author used a popular literary form of 
his day to explain certain historical facts of Creation.  These were named 
specifically by the Pontifical Biblical Commission, with the approval of 
Pope Pius X in 1909.  The official document states that the literal 
historical meaning of the first three chapters of Genesis could not be 
doubted in regard to:

   "the creation of all things by God at the beginning of time; the     
special creation of man; the formation of the first woman from the     
first man; the unity of the human race; the original happiness of     our 
first parents in the state of justice, integrity, and immortality;     the 
command given by God to man to test his obedience; the transgression     of 
the divine command at the instigation of the devil under the form of     a 
serpent; the degradation of our first parents from that primeval state     
of innocence; and the promise of a future redeemer."

Note that the Church says nothing definite about how, in specific detail, 
God created the world and its various forms of life, or how long any of 
this took.  The only "special creation" mentioned is that of man, who is 
unique in having a spiritual immortal soul.  In the Church's eyes, Genesis 
deals with historical fact, not scientific process--with the *what* of 
creation, not the *how*.

In 1950, Pope Pius XII addressed the question of man's origins more 
specifically in his encyclical *Humani Generis*.  With a few terse 
paragraphs, he set forth the Church's position, which we may summarize as 
follows:    1.  The question of the origin of man's *body* from pre-
existing     and living matter is a legitimate matter of inquiry for 
natural    science.  Catholics are free to form their own opinions, but 
they    should do so cautiously; they should not confuse fact with    
conjecture, and they should respect the Church's right to define    matters 
touching on Revelation.    2.  Catholics must believe, however, that the 
human *soul* was    created immediately by God.  Since the soul is a 
spiritual substance    it is not brought into being through transformation 
of matter, but    directly by God, whence the special uniqueness of each 
person.    3.  All men have descended from an individual, Adam, who has    
transmitted original sin to all mankind.  Catholics may not,     therefore, 
believe in "polygenism," the scientific hypothesis that     mankind 
descended from a group of original humans.

So, from the Catholic point of view, the scientific questions of  evolution 
are largely left open to debate.  Evolutionary hypotheses which  attempt to 
explain the development of living things may be accepted  except where they 
conflict with these few explicit truths.

This position clearly contrasts with that of many fundamentalist Protestant 
sects.  Lacking belief in the Church's teaching authority, fundamentalists 
have usually insisted on treating Genesis as a scientifically accurate, as 
well as historically true, account.  Unfortunately, this stance has often 
appeared in the media as definitive Christian doctrine.  Its details have 
contrasted so sharply with established scientific knowledge that "Christian 
belief" has been held in ridicule.

To give one example: In the 17th century, an Anglican clergyman, Bishop 
James Ussher, calculated from Biblical genealogies that God created the 
world on an October morning in 4004 B.C.  Many fundamentalists today would 
hold this as an article of faith.  For virtually all scientists, the figure 
is absurd.  From the Catholic point of view, Bishop Ussher spoke only for 
himself, not for the Church; his feat was one of arithmetic, not theology.

Of course, Catholics *may* share many of these fundamentalist beliefs as 
their personal opinions.  The point is they are not *required* to.  With 
the exception of the few matters mentioned above, Catholics may hold 
whatever scientific positions seem reasonable and intellectually 
convincing.

This leads to the next consideration.  Just how much does science know with 
certainty?  What are the strengths and limitations of science in helping us 
find the truth?*

Scientific certitude*

Popular accounts of science--in textbooks, magazines, and television 
features--are often misleading about the certitude of scientific knowledge.  
Writers who explain science to the general public must simplify a host of 
complex matters to make them understandable and interesting.  But this task 
frequently leads to oversimplification.  Non-scientists are led to believe 
that science is essentially a stable body of factual knowledge.  In 
reality, however, it is a dynamic process, constantly engaged in self-
correction and even radical revision.  Interpretation, guesswork, and 
imagination play a larger role in scientific study than most people are 
aware.

Consequently, knowledge derived from this inquiry has several distinct but 
overlapping levels of certitude.  Some scientific matters are known to be 
factually true; that is, they are beyond doubt.  Others are reasonable 
conjectures, generally accepted as true by specialists in the field.  Still 
others are untested hypotheses awaiting verification through further work.

Let us take one case in point: *Australopithecus* was an ape-like creature 
who lived more than a million years ago in Africa.  It is fact that his 
brain size averaged about 500 cc. and that his leg-bone had some humanlike 
features.  It is, however, a conjecture that he walked upright much of the 
time; this is a reasonable guess but not so certain as the aforementioned 
facts.  But it is only an hypothesis that his body gave rise to that of 
man.  These distinct degrees of probable certitude are often blurred in 
many popular science articles.

The evolutionary sciences are especially susceptible to difficulty in 
establishing certitude.  Unlike physics or chemistry, which are verifiable 
through controlled laboratory experimentation, the evolutionary disciplines 
are essentially historical.  All the forms of paleontology (including 
paleoanthropology, the study of ancient man) seek to determine what 
happened to living things over the course of time.  When researchers 
advance hypotheses to explain fossil phenomena, they are giving *reasonable 
interpretations* which are verifiable only through subsequent research.  
Later findings may confirm these explanations, or perhaps render them less 
plausible, or even prove them *wrong*--that is, very highly unlikely.  Thus 
what is generally accepted by specialists today may be outmoded only a few 
years from now.  The field is highly dynamic.

Evolutionary research over the past century, and especially in recent 
years, has taken many such twists and turns, often leading in unexpected 
directions.  This unsettled condition stands to reason. The relative 
scarcity of fossil evidence, the high reliance on imaginative 
interpretation, the inherent problem of verification--all combine to make 
this "detective" work subject to ongoing uncertainty.  Unfortunately, 
textbooks seldom convey the cautious and provisional nature of evolutionary 
thinking at any given time. Science knows less for certain about 
evolutionary phenomena than is generally supposed.

The history of science offers many examples of this self-corrective 
process.  It is worth our while to examine a few of these, even briefly, to 
see the dynamic at work. (And, parenthetically, it is interesting to see 
how many outmoded scientific beliefs still survive in popular thinking.)*

The cave-man myth*: Fossil evidence does not speak for itself; it must be 
interpreted, and this task requires imagination.  Scientists at the turn of 
the century took greater liberties in describing ancient man than their 
counterparts today would.  Their image of paleolithic man has entered 
popular imagination: a hairy, hunched-over, stupid, and ferocious creature, 
speaking in grunts and living by violence.  Countless illustrations have 
shown him this way, and still do today in some popular media.

Today's specialists would disavow this image because it does not fit the 
facts.  From fossil evidence alone, one cannot say anything about ancient 
man's hairiness or intelligence or speech or facial expression or supposed 
ill-manners.  These details were supplied through imagination.  The  
"survival of the fittest" motif called for ape-like characteristics in 
early man, and these were dutifully provided.  The bones themselves said 
nothing.

One set of bones was significant, however.  In 1911, the famous French  
anatomist, Marcellin Boule, carefully studied a recently discovered  
Neanderthal skeleton.  This specimen was important for it was the first  
nearly complete skeleton of an ancient man.  Using it, science could  
understand the details of a typical Neanderthal's body structure.

Boule's reconstruction of Neanderthal showed a hunched-over, misshapen 
creature with bent legs and face thrust forward, not unlike  the stance of 
a gorilla.  This depiction was highly influential for decades thereafter; 
it was reproduced in textbooks, drawings, and museum displays around the 
world.  But later discoveries of Neanderthal finds cast doubt on Boule's 
work.  Then in 1957, a team of anatomists re-examined Boule's original 
skeleton and found a serious source of error: the Neanderthal man had 
suffered from a case of severe arthritis.  His stance was indeed hunched-
over, but it was not genetic in origin and was not typical.  Today, we 
believe that ancient people walked and stood erect almost exactly as we do.

The image of ferocity was also without factual support.  Over the years, in 
fact, many archaeological sites have shown evidence of cooperation and even 
compassion among primitive people.  Numerous fossils came from carefully 
prepared graves, some as old as 100,000 years.  In several instances, the 
deceased had been old and crippled (like Boule's specimen) and had received 
care for years before being laid to rest.  In one grave, a youth had been 
buried carefully on his side, with one arm tucked under his head, as if he 
were sleeping; in one hand, he held a beautifully carved quartz knife. In 
another grave, archaeologists found the body of an elderly Neanderthal who 
had had his forearm amputated years before in his youth.  (Surgery 60,000 
years ago!)  He had been cared for all his life.  And in yet another 
Neanderthal site, researchers found evidence that the deceased had been 
buried with flowers.

Care for cripples and burial with flowers give a dimension of humanness  to 
ancient man that earlier scientists would have found astonishing.*

Species classification*: Several decades ago, scientists habitually 
classified almost every new hominid (man-like) find into a separate 
species.  These fossil creatures were thus named "Peking ape-man", "Java 
ape-man", "Neanderthal man," and so forth.  Drawings of the day used to 
show an upward development: some primitive ape leading to the ape-man, who 
in turn led to Neanderthal, who then led to Cro-Magnon (identical to 
"modern" man in nearly every respect).

Within the last 25 years, these have all been reclassified.  All the "ape-
man" types (from 100,000 to 500,000 years ago and more) now belong  to one 
species, *Homo erectus*, the "upright man."  Neanderthal, we now  believe, 
was a racial type of modern man, *Homo sapiens*.  But this  distinction 
needs some clarification.  In what sense were these two forms  of man 
different?  Were they really separate and distinct species?

The true test for species difference is genetic isolability--that is, 
whether mating of two individuals will produce sterile offspring or not.   
But obviously we have no way to determine this among creatures long dead.

It is important to realize that, when scientists classify ancient fossils  
into distinct species, they do so exclusively on the basis of anatomical  
structure.  If a given specimen has bone configurations within the known  
range of a given species, then it is called by that species' name.  If,  
however, some significant features lie outside that range, then it probably  
belongs to a different species and is thus classified differently.  *Homo  
erectus* had several anatomical features which differ from those of modern  
man.  He had, for example, a prominent brow ridge over his eyes, a smaller  
stature, and a smaller average brain size.

The key point here is that both were forms of man, the genus *Homo*, with 
all that this implies.  The anatomical variation was possibly, even 
probably, the only significant difference.  We know that *erectus*, even 
from remotest antiquity, made several types of tools and used fire.  Both 
of these activities show intelligent manipulation of  nature.  In other 
words, he, like the *sapiens* form, could think.*

Brain size*: At one time, scientists believed that relative brain size 
correlated closely with intelligence.  The viewpoint has been modified 
considerably because of subsequent research data.

Modern man's brain averages 1250 cc., but with wide variation.  It 
typically falls between the extremes of 1000 cc. and 2000 cc.  *Homo 
erectus*, being small in stature, varied between 775 cc. and 1200 cc.   All 
of these figures are much larger than those for apes and ape-like  
creatures: 450 cc. on the average.

But the wide variation in modern man seems unrelated to thinking powers.   In 
at least one instance, a man with 900 cc. brain size exhibited normal  
intelligence.  Consequently, we cannot with certainty predicate a lower  
level of intelligence to early man merely on the basis of his brain size.*

Tool-making*: as far back as man's fossil record indicates (currently about 
two million years), we find evidence of tool-making. Several decades ago, 
scientists correlated tool-making skill with native intelligence.  A 
primitive tool indicated a primitive mind; a more complex form, showed a 
relatively stronger intelligence.  This value judgment no longer holds sway 
among specialists.

Today it is generally held that mastery of technique is distinct from 
native intelligence.  Tool-fashioning is a skill acquired through learning 
and practice.  Moreover, today's anthropologists have a much higher regard 
for the considerable skill which ancient man wielded in fashioning his 
implements.

One remarkable detail is the great variety of these ancient tools.  For 
scores of thousands of years, paleolithic man fashioned dozens of different 
tools--axes, scrapers, awls, burins, saws, knives, and many other types of 
implement.  These were formed with extraordinary consistency, and even 
artistry, through hundreds of generations. Many were expertly fashioned in 
quartz and semi-precious stone.

Such variety in this paleolithic tool-chest implies that early man used 
tools extensively on other materials (wood, leather, bone) which have, of 
course, perished without a trace.  Tools imply intelligence, not only 
because they are deliberately fashioned (an intelligent act itself), but 
because they are intended for some purpose further in the  future.  Such 
purposeful planning is a clear sign of rationality.  So  scientists believe 
today.

How much could early man have accomplished with these primitive stone 
tools? To find out, a team of anthropologists recently hired an expert 
Scandinavian woodsman and supplied him with a set of genuine paleolithic 
tools.  The craftsman hafted stone axe-heads onto wooden shafts and 
experimented with various cutting techniques.  Shortly afterward, he 
succeeded in felling large trees, splitting logs and making them into 
planks.  Within three months, the expert constructed a complete one-story 
frame house.

Clearly, skill lies in the minds and hands.  Little can be predicted from 
crudity of the tools.*

Current theoretical developments*: Over the past ten years, several major 
developments in research have left the theoretical picture highly 
unsettled.  These are too complex to explain in detail here, but they are 
worth noting in brief.

From the mid-1920's until the early 1970's, scientists generally believed 
that man evolved gradually from a small ape-like creature called 
*Australopithecus*.  As we mentioned earlier, this animal lived more than a 
million years ago and its fossils showed some human-like characteristics.  
It may have walked upright, at least some of the time, and its teeth 
approximated those of man.  Moreover, researchers often found stone tools 
scattered among its fossils.

The theory during these decades held that some form of *Australopithecus*,  
enjoying relatively free use of its hands, developed tool-making, and this  
skill gave rise to an ever-larger brain through the forces of natural  
selection.  Countless drawings in magazines and textbooks showed the  furry 
*Australopithecus* standing next to *Homo erectus*, his distant  
evolutionary offspring.

But in the early 1970's researchers were astonished to discover forms of 
*Homo erectus* from almost two million years ago, complete with tools.   In 
other words, man had lived alongside and even before some forms of  
*Australopithecus*.  Most likely, it was he who had fashioned the tools  
found among the ape-man fossils.  This discovery threw into question, to  
say the least, the evolutionary relation between the two forms of life.   
As of this writing, the problem is still being debated.

Around this time, several prominent paleontologists went on record to 
question the prevailing theory of gradualism, the well-known Darwinian  
position of evolution through natural selection.  (High school and  college 
textbooks taught this as virtual dogma up until recently.)  These  
researchers claimed that, contrary to Darwin's predictions, the fossil  
record does not show gradual transitions between species.  On the  
contrary, they maintained, the evidence shows extreme stability of form.   
Species seem to appear suddenly on earth, remain virtually unchanged for  
millions of years, and then disappear just as abruptly.

What could account for this phenomenon?  Current theory holds, among other 
positions, that major genetic alterations resulted in relatively  sudden 
appearances of new species.  This genetic leap is called  "macroevolution."  
Meanwhile, within species at any given time, the forces  of natural 
selection were at work effecting minor alterations of structure --like 
reshaping of finches' beaks, noted by Darwin.  This process is  called 
"micro-evolution."  How genetic and environmental forces have  interacted 
to produce new species is, at this point, an open question.

Our purpose here has been to demonstrate the dynamic nature of scientific  
inquiry.  Even these few brief sketches show how evolutionary thinking  has 
undergone an evolution of its own and still does.  Science has many  
uncertainties and very few dogmas.  This uncertain quality accounts, in  
large measure, for the fascination scientists find in their work.

Catholics have nothing to fear from science's honest inquiries, honestly 
explained.  On the contrary, every new discovery is a source of wonder and 
a reason for giving praise to God.  Of the Creator, we can say with St. 
Paul, " ... from the foundations of the world, men have caught sight of His 
invisible nature, His eternal power and His divinity, as they are known 
through His creatures" (Rom 1,20).