Interview by Jeremy Stangroom

In his book, The God Experiment, the physicist Russell Stannard talks about a 'prayer experiment' that is currently underway in the United States. The participants are 1,200 heart surgery patients. Half of these will be prayed for by a group of volunteers, the other half will not. The patients themselves, whilst knowing that they are part of an experiment, will not know whether they have been prayed for or not. The point of the experiment is to find out whether after two years there are significant differences in the progress of the two groups. In other words, the experiment is designed to test the efficacy of prayer and thereby perhaps tell us something about the existence of God.

Stannard's book, The God Experiment, is a widening out of the prayer experiment. It is an attempt to look at a whole range of evidence, most particularly that offered up by science, in order to determine whether the hypothesis of God's existence is supported. This endeavour is quite unusual because many scientists and theologians insist that science and religion deal with different kinds of questions. Stannard tells me that this is a view with which he has some sympathy.

'Very broadly speaking, science is concerned with "how" questions, whereas religion is more concerned with "why" type questions, why are we here, what's the purpose of life and that sort of thing. Science is successful because it delineates the kinds of questions that it can answer. As long as it sticks to its brief, it's unsurpassed.

'But,' he continues, 'I don't believe that science and religion are hermetically sealed from each other, there are points of contact between the two. For example, there has always been this religious idea that human beings are basically flawed; that we are self-centred rather than God centred. And therefore it requires a positive act to repent, to reorient yourself to become God centred. This idea underpins much of Christian theology.

'Until fairly recently one had to accept this notion of "original sin" on trust. But as soon as you come to evolution by natural selection, and you realise that there are in-born tendencies encoded in the DNA, and that they're all to do with survival, then that leads to the question what kinds of in-born tendencies are there in human beings as evolved animals. And certainly, selfishness is one of them. Therefore, you would expect from the moment of conception that there is this tendency to be selfish, which has got to be combated if you're going to make your life God-centred. So in this example, science confirms a part of Christian theology, and in that sense science and religion are not hermetically sealed from each other.'

Whilst there can be no doubt that science impacts on theology, not least in the sense that modern theologians modify their beliefs in light of scientific discoveries, it is not so clear that it works the other way around. Presumably, Stannard does not think that science in any way requires religion?

'Science is not dependent on religion,' he agrees. 'You can be a thoroughly good, prominent scientist, without being religious. And science itself can indeed proceed in a water-tight way, with the sort of questions that it deals with - the "how" questions. But as soon as you start saying, where did this world come from, why is there anything at all, science says, well those aren't scientific questions, I'm not going to answer them.'

I wonder whether Stannard thinks that this is a fair response. Are these in fact the kinds of questions that science should just leave alone?

'I think they are perfectly good questions,' he replies. 'If nothing exists, then that seems to me to be a state that does not call for explanation. It seems quite natural that nothing should exist. But as soon as something exists, then you have problems. Why does it exists? Why is it this universe, rather than some other? Why is it an intelligible universe? Why is it run by laws? Why these laws, rather than some other set of laws?'

But does this mean that he also thinks that God's existence requires some kind of explanation?

'One way of approaching theology is to define God as the source of all existence,' he answers. 'In other words, given that you have existence, its seems a perfectly natural question to ask what the explanation for existence is, and the answer is - whatever is the ground of all being, and that is what I call God.'

There is a problem with this reply - and it is one identified by the evolutionary biologist, Richard Dawkins. It seems bizarre to argue that the universe must have an explanation, and that it must be sustained in some way by a creator, and yet simultaneously to maintain that this creator, presumably an extremely intelligent and complex being, itself does not require explanation. I put this point to Stannard.

'There is a category mistake going on here,' he responds. 'God is not just one more existent thing, which is then the cause of the universe, because if that was the case then you are in the Dawkins type problem.'

It is not at all clear that this reply avoids the difficulty. The category mistake only occurs because God is defined in a certain way. It seems then that the problem is ruled out on definitional grounds. But this is arbitrary, and significantly, the same move can be made when considering the existence of the universe; that is, the universe can be defined as the kind of entity, the existence of which does not need explanation.

'Yes,' admits Stannard, 'that is the line that Dawkins would take. He obviously feels comfortable with it, but I don't, because of all the particularities of this universe. I just instinctively feel that as soon the world exists, questions arise - why this world, rather than some other world. One of my concerns about this kind of argument, or other arguments about science and religion, is that many people get involved in them on the understanding that it is possible to be argued into a belief in God. I don't think that anybody has ever been argued into a belief in God.'

This is an interesting response, because it seems that Stannard is conceding that arguments about scientific evidence are never going to be enough to persuade someone that God exists. That being the case, was anything up for grabs in the writing of The God Experiment? Is it possible that he might have reached different conclusions or does personal experi ence - in his case, the experience of a loving God - trump everything?

'In The God Experiment,' he answers, 'I am really saying that the whole of life is a kind of experiment, where different kinds of questions and indications of God crop up - the most important one being one's own prayer life. It is possible to argue as much as you like about the source of existence, or about the anthropic principle, but if that was all that I had to go on, I would not believe in God. Or it would be a belief that did not affect me. By far and away the most important aspect of religious life is one's own personal dealings with God.'

Does this mean that it is quite reasonable for someone who not does have a personal relationship with God, to conclude, on the basis of the evidence that Stannard considers in his book, that there is no justifiable reason for a belief in God?

'I would simply say,' Stannard answers, 'that they have not done the most important part of the experiment, which is to give prayer a genuine try.'

This is all very well, but it seems that in privileging prayer like this, Stannard has moved well away from the kinds of procedures that would normally be considered scientific, particularly, in that prayer takes place in a hidden domain.

'Yes,' admits Stannard, 'it does take you out of the public domain, where you can say - here is an experiment, you're looking at it, I'm looking at it, and we can agree on the evidence. This is crucial for the physical sciences, but I have never made the claim that theology is like the physical sciences. However, if you're thinking in terms of say, psychology, and both Freud and Jung, regarded psychology as a science…'

I interrupt here, because psychologists have precisely the same concern about the scientific validity of introspective reports. Indeed, the whole behaviourist movement in psychology can be seen as a response to just these concerns, where they attempted to put into a 'black box' the kind of introspective evidence that had dominated psychology up to that point.

'Okay, lets take physics as an example,' he responds. 'I believe a lot of things about physics, not having personally done the experiments. And it is because I trust the people who have done the experiments. It seems to me that if you're dealing with religious people, who all engage in this prayer activity, and time and again, they keep on coming up with the idea that they are in contact with someone, and yes, that someone does have the characteristics of love and forgiveness and all the rest of it - now that is repeatable, and I think to myself, well, why shouldn't I trust these people that they are accurately reporting their experiences? What you look for is consensus, and when the consensus is the kind of consensus that gets distilled into the major world religions, I don't myself see why that shouldn't be accorded something of the same kind of respectability and trust as in the physical sciences.'

The obvious response here is that there is a difference to do with the potential for falsifiability. It is not at all clear what would falsify the hypothesis that prayer involves a direct experience of God.

'It is falsifiable in the individual's life,' Stannard answers. 'If I was engaged in prayer, and I became convinced that I was not in contact with anybody, if that continued, I wouldn't waste my time with it.'

But this is precisely the experience of some people, and yet it has no impact on Stannard's hypothesis, because it is trumped by his own personal experience, so aren't we back to unfalsifiability, I ask?

'Well,' he responds, 'there are periods where I go through a "dry-patch" in terms of prayer, but one comes through it. And when you look back on those occasions, it is not always clear why you went through that dry-patch. But one can only suspect that there was something wrong with one's own mindset, that one was so totally preoccupied with oneself at that time, that one loses the contact. So recognising that there are times where my own prayer life has been flawed, that I have been putting up barriers to God, I can only presume that people who have given up on the religious life because they could not get through to God, could not have been doing it properly.'

But this is precisely the difficulty. When I offer an example of the kind of thing that Stannard claims will falsify the hypothesis, one finds that the hypothesis isn't falsified, because it is possible to add in a caveat, or rationalisation - in this instance, 'well, they can't have been praying properly'. If that is always possible, then surely, I insist, the hypothesis that one can enter into a direct relationship with God in prayer is not falsifiable, and therefore, of a different kind to those of science?

'I think that what you have to realise,' Stannard answers, after a pause, 'is that when you are talking to a religious person, they feel that they have such strong internal evidence. It's like Jung said, I don't have to believe in God, I know that God exists - that is how I feel. So when I come across somebody who tells me that they have tried prayer, but they have no contact, what am I supposed to say except that they must be doing something wrong?'

In The God Experiment, Stannard looks at a number of theological concerns and examines how science might inform how we think about them. One of these is freewill, arguably a central tenet of Christian theology, because it is linked to ideas about individual responsibility, moral culpability, repentance and so on. I ask him how he reconciles his belief in freewill, given that he thinks that thoughts are determined by brain events, with the apparent causal closure of the physical world, that is, the fact that physical events are wholly caused by other physical events.

'I haven't a clue,' he laughs. 'But the important point is that we have no other choice than to live our lives as though we have freewill.'

But surely in theological terms more is required - one has to be committed to the idea that we actually do have freewill, otherwise notions of guilt, repentance, sin, and so on just dissolve. Yet they are all central to Christian theology. Wherein, for example, lies the merit of a person's repentance, if it is the inevitable product of the working out of certain physical laws?

'I suppose,' answers Stannard, 'that a behaviourist would say - okay, a person couldn't help but commit adultery, however, adultery is not a good thing from society's point of view, so society will conform people not to commit adultery, we will punish that person. They weren't responsible, they couldn't help it, but punishment has a desirable deterrent effect, so it is worth carrying out.'

This is a straightforward utilitarian argument, but it doesn't depend on notions of culpability, which makes it very different from any kind of Christian theological position. So the question stands, given that in scientific terms we cannot begin to explain freewill, in terms of the project of The God Experiment, how do we get freewill from the evidence?

'I just don't know,' admits Stannard, 'but I think the whole question hinges on what takes precedence, experience of life or science. I would say that the role of science is to try to explain life's experiences. One puts together an edifice of science which explains certain regularities in experience. It then seems that for some people, science, which was invented to explain experience, becomes autonomous in its own right. In the case of freewill, the difficulty is that scientific conclusions seem to deny an incredibly important aspect of experience, namely, that we are free and responsible. I think it is then very doubtful to say that I am therefore wrong in taking this aspect of experience at face value. So one is placed in the situation of saying that there is something wrong with the science.'

Perhaps the least convincing section of The God Experiment is that which deals with the problem of evil; that is, the problem of explaining the presence of evil in a world created and sustained by a loving God. Stannard deals with this problem in a fashion fairly typical of Christian apologetics, by invoking a series of arguments, most premised on the assertion that God will create human beings with freewill, which are designed to demonstrate the inevitability of evil in a world created by a loving God. However, to the extent that The God Experiment is supposed to be an evaluation of the evidence for the existence of God, wouldn't it have been more plausible, I ask him, to conclude, in line with the dictates of Ockham's razor, that the most likely explanation for the presence of evil in the world is that there is no God or that God is not loving?

'If one was just looking at day to day life, and the way that people interact with each other, then I would agree with you,' he admits. 'One would come to the conclusion that if there was a deity, then at the very least it was a deity that had a shadow-side as well as a good side. But when you go beyond that - and again it's about internal experience, and also the life of Jesus - I simply can't attribute 'What takes precedence, experience of life or science?' to the person I meet in my prayer life an evil side. So one is then forced into the situation of thinking, if He is not evil, what is the explanation?

'The one characteristic that defines God,' he continues, 'and this comes through in prayer-life, is love. Now as soon as you make love the overriding principle, and not human happiness, then all sorts of tough consequences result: free will, the abuse of free will, suffering so that you have the opportunity to prove your love, all these kinds of things immediately follow.'

This is a standard response to the problem of evil. But it is easier to get a grasp on exactly what is at stake here, if one talks about specific examples. So I ask Stannard about the horrendous suffering of a child. It is interesting that in The God Experiment, when talking about the suffering of children, he admits that all the explanations of evil amount to nothing if there isn't the possibility of an afterlife, which will put right the wrongs that occur during this lifetime. But in terms of weighing up the evidence for God, isn't this just the equivalent of throwing up one's hands and saying 'the arguments just don't work for children'. I put it to him that it's a cop-out.

'I can see that it would look like this to an atheist,' he concedes, 'it does seem like a cop-out. But you must think this through - would you really want an afterlife without children?'

But the problem with this response is that there is a huge difference between children dying and children dying horribly.

'The afterlife absolutely has to be an integral part of any conception of a belief in a loving God,' Stannard admits. 'It does not make sense for a Christian not to believe it. It is hard to believe in the afterlife, but what is absolutely certain is that if there is not an afterlife, then the whole idea of a loving God collapses. This is something that just has to be accepted in faith, obviously we have no proof of it.'

This final answer is consistent with the others given in the interview. It is clear that, for Stannard, personal experience, and the 'knowledge' that flows from that experience, is crucial for The God Experiment. What this means for the scientific credibility of the experiment is at best a moot point. Stannard himself seems rather ambivalent about it. But perhaps that is not surprising, for there appears little at stake for him in the experiment, because as he says, he doesn't have to believe in God, he knows that God exists.