Fine Tuned Just for Me?—Conclusion

There is another group of people who feel they have the answer for why the universe is as it is; why all those physical parameters have precisely the value they must have, if life was to have come about. These folks have put forth an explanation called the “anthropic cosmological principle.” There are several versions of this principle, but they all state that the laws of nature must allow for the creation of beings who are then capable of studying the laws of nature. This point of view has never settled well with me, as it seems to contain circular thinking: “I am, therefore the world must have been fashioned in a way that I could be.” I don’t believe that explanation really solves anything.

Different factions have stated the anthropic principle in various ways. One argument is the notion that there are an infinite number of universes, that the cosmos we know is, in fact, just one part of the so-called “Multiverse.” The countless other universes may indeed possess alternate versions of physical laws; thus only some of them have developed anything like the cosmic structures of our universe, and none of them likely resulted in life (at least as we know it). The result is that those other universes might exist but would be unknowable to us, or us to them. There is something inherently unsatisfactory to me in this explanation, since it’s beyond our ability to test this hypothesis. It is another fantastical explanation. There is no way to prove or disprove it.

Furthermore, I believe that the anthropic principle is too close to being a mythical explanation clothed in scientific terms. The word anthropic is defined by the dictionary as “having to do with mankind or with the period of man’s existence on Earth.” And it is uncomfortably close to being anthropocentric, which the dictionary defines as “considering man to be the central or most significant fact of the universe.” Is the anthropic principle really that much better than the fable given in Genesis—that places humans at the center of the universe? I don’t think so.

So I don’t feel satisfied with either the church’s explanation or the anthropic cosmological principle. As another way of looking at the issue, let me go from all of life to just one individual: myself. How did I come to be? Why am I alive?

I know that I am the result of a long line of ancestors. I came into existence after the occurrence of an uncountable string of incidents and decisions made by those forebears. My very existence depends upon history having unfolded exactly as it did. If any one of my ancestors (all the way back to the first single-celled creature?) had done anything different—in any way—I may not be here. If any one of them had mated with a partner other than the precise one they chose, I’d not be here. If any one of them had perished before they mated, I would not exist. If any one of them had eaten something nasty and gotten too ill to procreate exactly when they did, I wouldn’t have been born. My existence is the result of an essentially endless string of coincidental events. It all led to me. Wow! Therefore, it all must have all been designed just for me!

But wait. Did God (or any other power) design all this, just for me to be here? Did God guide all those ancestors to do precisely what they did, just so I’d be born? Isn’t it the epitome of hubris to suppose that it all happened just for my sake? What humongous self-centeredness to think that I’m the culmination—the be-all and end-all—of this long, complex process!

OK, maybe that line of thinking is stretching it a bit. Alternatively, I could posit the Personal Anthropic Principle to explain my existence: the long string of ancestors must have been set up for me, because here I am! Or better yet, the principle of multi-me’s: there are an infinite number of other me’s out there, in parallel existences, who cannot see each other, each one born out of a slightly different sequence of events. OK, maybe I’ve gotten carried away again.

It seems to me that what causes people to invent ideas and beliefs like a God-designed, fine-tuned universe or an anthropic-principle explanation, is that they cannot live with the mystery. There appears to be a deep human drive to have answers, and even to want the answers to be definitive—something that one can count on, forever.

We don’t want simply to understand things—in fact, for many people, understanding is not nearly as important as simply knowing. We want to be knowledgeable about things, to be certain. We want to “put the question to bed.” Living with uncertainty is very uncomfortable, if not terrifying for many people. Our culture admires those who know—whether that knowledge comes from reason, from myth, or from a powerful institution that forces its beliefs on people. We tend to regard knowledge as something we collect and own. Understanding is not really our intent, it’s the possession of knowledge—he who possesses the most is the best.

I draw much comfort from being able to admit that I don’t know; that no matter how much I strive to understand, it’s only a partial comprehension, and tomorrow’s understanding may bring a wholly new (and more valid) viewpoint. I can live with the mystery and give truth the time to reveal itself. I can look at this universe and be filled with wonder and amazement about why it is as it is. In fact, the harder I work to understand it, the more I see that I don’t know—and never will (nor will any human). The qualities of the universe may be due to this possibility, or that possibility, or maybe a new possibility that will surface tomorrow.

I don’t need to posit a reason for why things are the way they are—especially if it’s beyond my ability to come up with an answer today. If I delude myself into believing in a particular answer—when there is no basis to do so—I lock myself into a particular mindset that excludes other possibilities that may be closer to the truth. If I do so, one of them may later show itself to be closer to the truth than my belief and I’ll find myself fighting to hold on to the false story I’ve latched onto—much like the church did, when Galileo spoke up to say the Earth was not the center of the universe. Meanwhile, I’ll let the mystery be.