JOHN PAUL II presented himself throughout his long reign as a patron of science as well as a critic of its false claims and unethical practices. Conservative Catholics argue that he has done more than any of his predecessors to encourage science, and set the stage for the century to come. Progressives, who believe his papacy was exceptionally authoritarian, are not so sure. So how far did he go in reconciling science with Catholicism, and is there room for further reform?
John Paul started his pontificate with a historic move. In 1979 he paid tribute to Galileo as a Christian, as if to heal the breach with science that had existed since the mid-17th century. He appeared enthusiastic about the natural and social sciences. The Vatican-based Pontifical Academy of Sciences held plenary sessions every two years, attended by 24 world-class scientists, and on these occasions John Paul personally announced the winner of the Pius XI medal for a young scientist.
He appointed some 70 scientists as life members of the academy, including the astronomer Martin Rees, the late biochemist Max Perutz and Charles Townes, co-inventor of the laser, who won the John Templeton Foundation鈥檚 2005 award of $1.5 million for his work on reconciling science and religion. He encouraged regular international conferences on issues such as the anthropic principle and the big bang.
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One has to ask, though, whether any of these initiatives were anything more than window-dressing; whether his patronage had any impact on Catholic thinking about science, or on scientific communities and government science policies. At the culmination of a Vatican neuroscience conference in 1990, opened by John Paul II himself, a monsignor rose to make a statement that undermined the entire drift of the meeting: he 鈥渃onfirmed鈥� that the human person is dualistically composed of body and soul. The pope himself once told cosmologists gathered at the papal summer residence at Castel Gandolfo, 鈥淚t is not for you to question what happens before the big bang.鈥�
John Paul鈥檚 greatest influence on science was in the areas of reproductive medicine and embryo research, both of which made rapid advances during his time as pope. The Catholic position on the embryo is that it is a 鈥渉uman life鈥� and therefore inviolable. This is not just papal thinking, but the consensus of many bishops and Catholic experts around the world. John Paul upped the ethical stakes in the mid-1990s in two key encyclicals (papal letters to the world) by insisting that certain acts, such as destruction of the embryo, IVF and all forms of contraception, are in all circumstances intrinsically evil. He left no scope for conscience, no room for ethical flexibility arising from special circumstances. In a field in which scientific advances are rapidly outstripping traditional notions and definitions of the embryo and early development, and with HIV and AIDS rampant in Africa, John Paul appears to have painted himself and the faithful into a corner.
鈥淭he pope linked democracies that legalise abortion with the Nazi policy of mass murder鈥�
He vehemently denounced those outside the church who disagreed with him. In his very last published work, Memory and Identity, published last month, he linked democracies that legalise abortion with the Nazi policy of mass murder. He routinely condemned societies that, against the background of keeping state and religion separate, adopted laws that failed to coincide with Catholic doctrine. Pluralism in his view was equivalent to moral relativism. It is not hard to see, therefore, why the European Union failed to heed his call for its constitution to have an explicitly Christian dimension. By the same token, it is not difficult to understand why Republicans in the last US election believed the pope was on their side on issues such as abortion and human embryonic stem cell research. In such a climate, there has been little enthusiasm inside the Catholic church for debating scientific medical ethics.
Progressive Catholics have taken to measuring the conduct of John Paul II against the decisions made at the reforming Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s. They would agree he has performed well on many key concerns: liturgy, human rights, compassion for the poor, evangelisation. But while loyal to church teaching on bioethics, these same progressives are often dismayed by the way he handled dissent on life issues within and outside the church. While convinced that the papacy still has a role to play in moral guidance for the entire world, they insist that it must be done, as the second council recommended, by charitable dialogue and with respect for differing opinions.
What can we expect from his successor? A conservative pope is likely to continue the policy laid down by John Paul II, especially as the faithful are now speaking of him as John Paul the Great. A progressive pope may well want to rethink how he engages those who disagree with Catholic doctrine on scientific and medical issues. For it is these issues that are bound to dominate Catholic ethical debate for decades to come.
