Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
the theological preferences of individual scientific practitioners so much as
on the attractiveness of this theology in the broader society. Thus even if we
agree with Henry that there is no “really convincing reason why Puritans
should have been more concerned about, more successful or more produc-
tive in science than any other religious group,” we cannot conclude that
Puritanism therefore did not advance science in an important way.
53
Certainly it makes sense to suppose that, since Puritan theology
had become a defining part of the English public identity by the mid-
seventeenth century, individual pursuits thought to enact its beliefs would
have also attained special value. What I am asking readers to consider as I
bring rhetoric into this equation is whether something more was needed.
Even though such a society might identify Protestant redefinitions of the
Christian role with the scientific role, would those individuals possessed
of intellectual interests conducive to scientific activity care about this link-
age? And what would make the Puritan version of this theology especially
capable of spurring such choices? The conventional answer to such ques-
tions is found in a subsidiary supposition that Merton derived from Max
Weber's notion of the Protestant work ethic. Puritanism relied upon out-
ward signs of spiritual fruit as evidence of the believer's inward state of
grace, and this made the instrumental outcomes associated with science
especially attractive.
54
By this reasoning, the utility promised by empirical
science filled a need for spiritual assurance that was no longer satisfied
through the sacramental religious performances now rejected by radical
Calvinists. But while this is broadly consistent with an increased interest
in scientific activity, it cannot explain why this particular vocation should
have suddenly prospered over other professions more obviously tied to
practical life and charitable good works.
A rhetorical understanding of the Puritan spur resolves this problem
by bringing in once again Burke's notion of language's special powers of
selection. Even before the Puritan movement had achieved its social ascen-
dancy, Bacon had specifically crafted linkages between empirical science
and Reformation values. For the Puritan intellectuals who were making
vocational choices later in the century, these connections had already been
made available and salient (if the reader will pardon my anachronism) by
the “Jeffersonian” reach of Bacon's art.
Without recognizing the selective power of particular messages, we
could still say with Merton that specific religious beliefs spurred interest
in natural philosophy, but this would be a bit like saying that it was the
establishment clause that caused Madalyn Murray O'Hair to sue Baltimore's
