The splitting of the atom, whether it is used for the production of energy for industry or for military ends, raises questions of a theological nature; the "how" of its use brings up moral and ethical questions.
Following are four issues that the split atom raises. Despite their seemingly sociological nature, theology cannot be indifferent to them.
The limits of science
It is with some trepidation that anyone broaches the insoluble question of the limits of science: if such and such a research is called "scientific," is it therefore legitimate and proper? Do we have the right to do anything and everything?
It is quite clear that the modern age, to the extent that it has no criterion for life other than scientific "truth" and is dazzled by research results, will spontaneously answer yes. But the Christian has to phrase it a bit differently: do we, before God, have the right to do absolutely nothing in protest of a type of research simply because it is scientific? That is the true problem.
Christians are often afraid to take a stand, first because they share the prejudices favorable to science held by all and sundry in this era and, second, because they remember the errors committed by the "obscurantist" church in the Middle Ages--for example, the ban on dissecting cadavers, and the Galileo affair (let's not forget that the medieval church was not as obscurantist as we're led to believe and that Galileo was able to pursue his research thanks only to a pension from the pope!).
We must get beyond this difficulty. Are there limits? Are there any spheres before which we must remain silent or research must stop? Is it good that science recognizes no limit?
Of course, no direct answer is given in the Bible, notwithstanding the hint given in Ecclesiastes 1:18 ("...he who stores up knowledge stores up grief"), and the author of that book had Greek science in mind. But this warning is not enough. Can we un-create? Can we go back to the source, to the origin, to the crucial point when life or matter appears? Is that not a forbidden place, an unacceptable action? Don't we see (clearly enough, I think) that here we reach, not God, but the point of an action of God where we tend to substitute ourselves for God?
The comparison is with the third chapter of Genesis, in which Eve takes the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, that is, the possibility for us to decide from then on, by ourselves, what is good and evil. Until then, God alone could declare good and evil. At that moment, we tried to take over a role reserved for God.
The question I pose is exactly the same: in laying claim to alter the structure of matter, to transfer matter into energy, to split the atom, so also in claiming parthenogenesis or the artificial "creation of life" and the whole complex of genetic engineering, are we not precisely at the limit beyond which we make ourselves equal to God, where we do what God does--and can we enter into this competition?
I know that here I am broaching a question that is inadmissable for scientists and formidable and apparently insoluble for theologians, who prefer not to hear it discussed. Nevertheless, if we do not dare to pose it, perhaps we'll have to expect, as a result of our trespass, consequences as dire as those following the first transgression. I cannot supply a scientific response. Rather than giving a direct answer, I believe that all we can do is reach a certain probability in the answer through an analysis of some of the consequences.
The question of the limits of science seems to me particularly radical, especially in the area of atomic research. If it were simply a matter of knowing the constitution of matter, there would be no problem. We all know the traditional answer of Christian scholars: the more we come to know about the reality of creation, the more we are led to adore the Creator. But in atomic research we are not dealing with knowledge so much as manipulation, transformation, and disintegration. Here there is no respect for either the Creator or the creation.
The spirit of power
All atomic research is research for power. It is not simply "nuclear energy." Some countries, such as France, must compensate for oil deficiencies; other nations must guarantee continuous growth in energy consumption; still others must escalate nuclear weapons in order to guarantee national security. In all cases, power is indeed at stake. We have the fixed idea that matter contains an unlimited amount of power and is completely at our disposal.
We have always been imbued with the spirit of power, which is one of the marks of evil in the Bible. There it is called "pride" and "lust."
Past theologians often erred in relegating these tendencies to individual psychological defects, whereas the Bible talks about much more fundamental powers. These are powers that overcome us and make us act; they are existential and collective impulses which have to be situated in relationship to the affirmation of Jesus as Lord or the reality of the kingdom of God. Pride and lust are not particularized sins, but rather the source and expression of our radical opposition to God.
In the past, the spirit of power existed vis-a-vis God and was only potentially concrete, for it did not have the means to express itself fully. It did not have "the power." Now this situation has changed. We have acquired the means to serve our spirit of power, particularly with the technology of energy.
The development of atomic energy is closely linked to the spirit of domination, conquest, and human lust. People get all fired up about nuclear power not for the sake of its usefulness or its profits (though, of course, these play a role too), but because they are driven by the unrestrained search for power. This is what is dangerous. We are no longer capable of saying at any given moment, "Enough! We're stopping!" We have neither the criterion nor the motivation not to pursue to the nth degree everything that can satisfy our spirit of power.
In other words, the field of nuclear power, more than any other technical area, has seemingly unlimited development. Thus, when it comes to nuclear armaments, for instance, it is pointless to hope for a "non-proliferation" treaty or a serious enactment of an arms limitation agreement. This is confirmed by the very rapid proliferation of atomic weapons.
Iraq, thanks to France's delivery of enriched uranium, will soon have nuclear weapons, just as Israel has established a nuclear force, thanks to France's delivery of a reactor. And Pakistan is even closer to this possibility with aid from Libya, which itself seems to be at least well on the way if not already in possession of nuclear force.
Non-proliferation is a pious ideology, a virtuous declaration which masks a reality that is quite the opposite (exactly as happens with the declaration of human rights). The root of this phenomenon is the unbridling of the spirit of power that can do nothing but will the means to its own satisfaction, no matter the cost. All other reasons are superficial. This is truly a question posed to Christians who, above all, must fight against all manifestations of this spirit of power.
Human self-sufficiency
When separated from God, we claim complete mastery over the world; we want to be independent and autonomous, reckoning that we can cope with everything. On entering the nuclear realm, though, we face immense responsibilities.
First, we have entered a world of total uncertainty. If I object to all nuclear development, I do so because, when all is said and done, we don't know what we are doing. When I read expert and scientific reports--each as serious, as learned, as competent as the next--I am struck by the mass of contradictions among them.
What is the maximum radiation dose a person can be exposed to without danger? The answers vary from the straightforward to double talk. What are the results over a number of years? Impossible to say, as not enough time has elapsed. This lack of certainty dominates every aspect.
From the standpoint of economics, what is the cost per kilowatt hour for nuclear electricity? Once more, the answers vary, with even greater fluctuations in the estimates before and after the construction of a power plant. (In any case, the actual construction consumes a considerable amount of energy; for example, the French nuclear program involves an enormous increase in petroleum imports for 10 years.)
What are the chances of an accident? Statistics show that they are quite small. Fair enough. At the same time, solid mathematical studies show that calculations of probability mean nothing when the risk verges on the absolute.
How to get rid of the wastes? There are no reliable and long-term solutions. Reprocessing? Most recent studies have demonstrated that reprocessing plants end up producing more plutonium than they process.
How are we going to "de-construct" the atomic piles in the core of the reactor once the plant has finished its cycle of production? Even experts favoring the atomic enterprise recognize that nobody knows. The only general answer is that they "hope" that technological progress will solve the problem 20 years from now.
I could go on listing the detailed questions which give rise to either total uncertainty or contradictions among the experts. This list is enough, though, to assert clearly that as long as we do not know the risks, as long as we do not know the meaning of what is being done, we must not do it.
This prudent guideline, I maintain, is linked directly to faith in Jesus Christ. Faith cannot lead us to an irresponsible attitude under the guise of "confidence in God." We cannot take cover under the conviction that God, good and all-powerful, will set things straight. That is bad theology.
We are called to act as responsible beings, and the central question remains: "What have you done to your sister and brother?" In this nuclear business, all we can answer is, "I don't know anything about it."
This is precisely the answer that God cannot tolerate. It is the answer of the lukewarm, the flighty, the irresponsible person. This answer is fundamentally the inverse of the Word of God. If we do not know what we are doing, we must not do it.
A second aspect of self-sufficiency, equally unacceptable, is the irreversible nature of the trends brought about by nuclear development--irreversible trends that bring irreparable results. If there is an atomic catastrophe, it will be irreparable from every point of view--not just for the dead (in which case it wouldn't be different from other catastrophes), but also because of the genetic results and the devastation to the natural environment.
Vast stretches of land would be sterile; thousands of square miles would no longer have any use at all. No material, medical, or even financial restitution would be possible. No insurance company could cover atomic risk.
There is an ethical rule of thumb which, it seems to me, also stems from the Word of God: when the risk generated becomes well nigh inevitable and totally irreparable, the action must not be undertaken. No argument can prevail against this maxim. This situation presents us with a modern, sociopolitical application of the commandment, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."
In other words, our pursuit of the spirit of power has been a matter of contempt and transgression against the first great commandment, a lack of respect for the limits that God places on our actions. In a nuclear age, it is a clear violation of the second great commandment given by Jesus Christ.
The rigidity of the system
The growth of the atomic system brings about ever more impressive economic, political, and structural flexibility. The whole industrial process changes with the introduction of electricity from nuclear power plants. Unlike all other energy-producing systems, the operation of such a plant cannot be slowed down either by season or by night, because of the heat constraints that repeated variations would inflict on the metal casings enclosing the uranium rods. Nor can this electricity be put "on hold"; so there must be continuous use at a level fixed by the plant.
In order to use up the nighttime "overload," the equipment and processes used in many establishments supplied by this electricity must be modified. At the same time, industry is forced to adopt new production procedures to use electricity instead of other energy sources. In addition, nonstop use of this energy entails revisions in the norms of production, the expansion of units to manufacture the new equipment, etc. In short, "the all-electric factory" goes hand in hand with "the factory with permanent maximum operation."
This trend has two important consequences. First, the rigidity makes adaptation difficult. The more precise and strained the system is, the less able it is to adapt. Techno-organizational integration leads to a certain paralysis in responses (whether technical or economic), or at least to a slowness in adaptation. This effect is made worse by the second one: the acceleration of events in the wake of technical innovation and the spread of disturbances (whether voluntary or involuntary). After a certain degree of integration (and the nuclear development is now the most powerful factor in integration), the "adaptation-event" relationship becomes an internal contradiction. Events mushroom while the technical-nuclear system is paralyzed.
We are faced, then, with one of those rigid situations which seems to me to be fundamentally anti-Christian. God is the liberator. No need to go further on that score. And Jesus has shown us that all relationships should be established along the lines of flexibility and openness in the concreteness of the here and now. The lesson is not only for interpersonal relationships; it is valid for any structure.
Jesus reproached the Pharisees because they made God's law into an iron yoke for people, a total constraint; they made the commandment into an objective duty; they made detailed prescriptions so that there was no longer any room for initiative. They made the free Word of God into an inflexible, systematic code. Jesus came to bring flexibility, adaptability, and freedom back into it. In this way, the law of God (which, as James says, is "the law of freedom") is truly honored.
The law of God has become a social system. By analogy, any system that leads to inflexibility goes against the will of God. Dictatorship, wherever it is found and in whatever form, is unacceptable to the Christian, because it is a rigid system leaving no free room among its structures, no place for initiative. Nuclear development and its institutional, economic, and social rigidity should also be recognized as unacceptable.
Jacques Ellul was a lawyer, theologian, author, and social critic and had recently retired from his position as Professor of History and Sociology of Institutions at the University of Bordeaux in France when this article appeared. His books included The Technological Society and The Politics of God and the Politics of Man.
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