Another Newton Discovered by Keynes

In 1936, John Maynard Keynes attended a Sotheby’s auction. What he purchased was not just a collection of scientific notes, but Isaac Newton’s private manuscripts filled with writings on alchemy, theology, and prophecy. These documents revealed an unexpected side of Newton, a figure widely regarded as one of the greatest minds in science. Through this trove of papers, Keynes unearthed a very different Newton—one who was as immersed in mysticism as he was in mathematics.

As Keynes delved into these writings, he delivered his analysis in a speech titled “Newton, the Man,” prepared in 1942 for the Royal Society and presented to the public in Cambridge in 1946. In this address, Keynes declared: “Newton was not the first of the age of reason. He was the last of the magicians.”

Newton, who is considered the founder of modern science, sought to produce knowledge through both the natural sciences and sacred texts. Taking into account the conditions of his time, this suggests that a strict separation between reason and faith should not be imposed when examining that era. Newton’s period points to a time when the line between science and belief had not yet been clearly drawn. Indeed, the fact that many figures who shaped the history of science had a strong world of faith indicates that this relationship was far more layered in earlier times than is often assumed.

Newton’s intense engagement with alchemy and theology can be better understood within the epistemological context of the 17th century. At that time, the lines between science and metaphysics had not yet been clearly drawn. Alchemy was considered a legitimate means to uncover the hidden principles of nature, supported by empirical experimentation. Newton’s alchemical notebooks contain detailed observations, experimental procedures, and symbolic language. These materials suggest that Newton viewed natural laws as expressions of divine order.

Newton’s theological writings, by contrast, were mostly kept private, likely because they clashed with the orthodoxy of both Catholic and Anglican traditions. According to Stephen Snobelen, Newton did not publicly express his non-traditional beliefs. Instead, he employed a strategy known as Nicodemism, sharing his theological ideas only with trusted individuals.

In this light, Newton’s pursuit of knowledge across both scientific and sacred domains invites us to reconsider the assumed boundary between reason and faith. The fact that many influential scientific thinkers held strong religious convictions suggests this relationship is far more nuanced than we often acknowledge.

This raises fundamental questions: Where science ends, does faith begin? As science progresses, is faith merely pushed farther into the distance? If everything science cannot yet explain becomes explainable one day, will the epistemological function of God be obsolete? Or is faith something more than just a placeholder for the unknown?

Newton’s philological and scientific approach to the Bible is also relevant. The fact that he found no conflict between the scriptures and physical reality raises questions about how he might have interpreted the Church’s rejection of heliocentric models developed by Copernicus and Galileo. This highlights how historical conflicts between science and religious dogma are internalized on a personal level.

These inquiries led me to reconsider Enlightenment thought more broadly. The Enlightenment is often remembered as a triumph of reason, a period when humans turned from faith to scientific methods to understand the universe. But the knowledge generated in this era was later harnessed by a social construct we now call “economics”—and therein lay its flaw. Man conquered nature, only to devastate it.

While Enlightenment thought illuminated human reason, it also spawned Homo Economicus—a being whose motivations did not always lead to ethical or sustainable outcomes. Today, nature is not only exhausted, but nearly four billion people are left struggling in poverty. This, too, is the outcome of a global system shaped by Western capitalist development.

Martin Heidegger offers a profound critique of Western philosophy in this context. He contended that Western metaphysics is baseless because it has concerned itself with beings (Seiendes) while ignoring Being (Sein) itself. For Heidegger, this forgetting of Being is the original failure of Western thought. His philosophy suggests that if the foundations of Western philosophy had been laid differently two millennia ago, today’s ecological and existential crises might have followed a very different path.

Newton’s intellectual complexity—his effort to unify science and faith—speaks not only to his legacy but also to our present dilemmas involving knowledge, morality, and the environment. Keynes’s recovery of Newton’s manuscripts played a transformative role in illuminating this layered heritage. When coupled with Heidegger’s critique, it becomes clear that reexamining the foundations of modern thought is no longer optional—it is imperative.

For the individual in search of integrated knowledge, one final question emerges: Could speaking to God be nothing more than a form of inner dialogue, a search for truth in the silence beyond explanation? Perhaps the questions themselves are the conversation—where science falls silent, faith, and philosophy begin to speak.

University of Athens (Photo: Arda Tunca)