IS A THEOLOGY INSPIRED BY THE THOUGHT OF KARL POPPER POSSIBLE?

 

Palo Cugini

 

 

Karl Popper's epistemology, centered on the principle of falsifiability, is usually considered the clear boundary between science and metaphysics. For Popper, a theory is scientific only if "it can be disproved by experience." At first glance, theology—which deals with absolute and transcendent truths—would seem the exact opposite of this model. However, applying Popper to theology doesn't necessarily mean demolishing it, but rather attempting to transform it into an intellectually honest discipline open to revision. This is what a Popperian theology might look like.

At the heart of Popper's thought is the rejection of inductivism: no matter how much evidence we accumulate in favor of a thesis, we can never be certain of its absolute truth.
In theology, this approach would attack rigid dogmatism. A Popperian theology would not consider its assertions as immutable truths handed down from above, but as bold conjectures about the meaning of existence. The believer would not be someone in possession of the truth, but a researcher who proposes an explanation of the world, aware of his own human fallibility.

The critical point is: is there an event that could disprove the existence of God? The philosopher Antony Flew, applying Popper, observed that theologians often die of a thousand qualifications: if something bad happens, they say God is mysterious; if something good happens, it is thanks to God. If nothing can disprove God's love, then the statement "God loves us" has no real informative content, since it is compatible with any state of affairs.

To be Popperian, theology must accept the challenge: what would have to happen for me to stop believing? A faith that doesn't accept the risk of contradiction (God's silence, extreme evil, the absence of signs) risks becoming an empty suit of armor. Just as the scientist doesn't observe nature with a virgin eye, the theologian doesn't read sacred texts or reality without presuppositions. To affirm that observation isn't neutral means recognizing that there is no interpretation of the Bible or dogma without a "pre-understanding" (hermeneutics). Every believer interprets the divine through specific cultural, linguistic, and philosophical lenses.

In theology, Truth (often identified with God) would become a horizon toward which to journey, rather than an object possessed once and for all. Theology would no longer be a system of static certainties, but a dynamic quest. As with Popper's scientist, it is the striving toward this absolute Truth that gives meaning to study, even if the fullness of knowledge remains metaphysically beyond human reach. The most radical aspect concerns the process of approaching truth through the elimination of error: It proceeds by falsifying inadequate images of God. Theology progresses when it recognizes that a past interpretation was erroneous or limited (think of the overcoming of certain theocratic or discriminatory visions). Dogma does not change Truth, but corrects previously misinterpreted facts, refining human understanding in an infinite evolutionary process. From this perspective, the distinction between revealed data (fact) and theology (opinion) blurs. Every religious fact is already mediated by human experience. This does not lead to relativism, but to epistemological humility: no one can claim a monopoly on objective truth, since we are all immersed in conjectures that must constantly be tested by dialogue and history.

Popper applied his epistemology to politics in The Open Society and Its Enemies . A theology inspired by him would be an open theology. Doctrines should be subjected to public and rational discussion, not protected by the enclosure of the "sacred." Just as science progresses through the clash of different theories, so the understanding of the divine would benefit from the confrontation of different faiths and visions, seen as alternative attempts to answer the same ultimate question.

Applying Popper to theology means stripping it of its claim to be an exact science of the spirit. The result is a theology of hope and risk, where faith is not a dogmatic endpoint, but a series of conjectures submitted to the tribunal of human experience and suffering. In this sense, the Popperian theologian is very similar to the scientist: both seek the truth, knowing that each of their conclusions is merely a not-yet-disproved proposition in the long journey of knowledge.