I’m a dude

I had to wash off some things outside a short while ago, and while draining the hose, I set the sprayer for ‘mist’ and applied a liberal coating to grasses where I knew some of the praying mantises lived; I was rewarded with seeing one of them scamper up and begin drinking deeply from the water droplets adhering to the leaves. Of course, I trotted (it might have been a canter, come to think of it) inside myself and grabbed the camera. The recipient of my largesse, however, did not acquiesce to displaying this as I loomed nearby with the softbox rig.

There are at least three mantids that have moved to the dog fennel plants, however – this does not seem to have been the most advantageous action as they remain smaller than their brethren; either that, or there was another hatching that I remained unaware of. But since the one on the grasses appreciated the moisture, I brought out the misting bottle and heavily doused the areas on the dog fennel where the other mantids were out foraging. They appreciated this as much as the first, and eagerly sucked up what adhered to the leaves before the sun (which is quite bright and hot today) evaporated this windfall. Perhaps ‘windfall’ is not the right word here…

juvenile Chinese mantis gathering water
Seen here, one that had borne the full effect of the misting draws up water from its forelegs, having swept its eyes clear. If you don’t have a little misting bottle to carry in the camera bag, get one. Mine is from a purse-sized Jheri Curl, after I used the product up keeping my ‘fro dashing. (The true story is, I went to the drugstore specifically to find a misting bottle for photographic purposes, but everything they had was too big for the camera bag – until I spotted a clearance bin on the way out with items for a buck; that was fifteen years ago, and I still use that mister.)

Lest you think the mantis might not have appreciated this soaking, I wish to point out that not only do they suffer much worse than this during downpours and even fog, any of them could have easily dodged deeper into the dog fennel had they felt the urge – they certainly do it often enough as I lean in for a nice portrait. They get most of their fluids from overnight dew, and it did hit the dewpoint last night, but they still took advantage of the misting I provided, so, cool!

Not deep

I’m still here, and still largely busy – it’s going to be a lean posting month, but I’ll still try to put something up from time to time.

[“From time to time” – isn’t that a stupid phrase? Who makes these things up, and did they have any think what word good is?]

A few days back we received torrential rain, which is not to say this is any more remarkable than the rest of the country, but only as a lead-in, since it spurred me to go down to the river. I’ve seen plenty of evidence that it rises dramatically, yet never been down there to witness it firsthand, so I stopped down briefly the morning after the deluge. Below is a comparison composite image, the left side taken a few years ago but representative of typical conditions, while the right is the level Friday morning.

river depth comparison
It’s the same boulder in the middle of both pics, except one is seen aiming downstream while the other shooting across from the small point seen in the former. I wasn’t going to go wading in the river that day.

You can see how the river is flooding the banks in the right image, and as I stood there, a largish snapping turtle appeared between the tree and I, struggling desperately to gain a foothold on the flooded bank before vanishing back into the torrent; I had barely raised the camera and didn’t even lock focus before it was gone.

flooded footpathThis is part of the path that winds alongside the river, only about 20 cm under water at this point so I was still able to follow it – I spend the non-winter months in waterproof sandals specifically for conditions like this, because I think it’s silly to let a little water block me from something interesting. My feet are so used to this that I rarely notice the water temperature at all, unless it gets really extreme. [An example of this was when my dad visited one winter and we went out to the Outer Banks. He snagged a favorite and expensive fishing lure on something not far offshore, while casting in Croatan Sound off Roanoke Island, and I waded in barefoot to try and retrieve it – the water temperature did not exceed 4°c (40°f.) It took two attempts and became pretty painful, turning my lower legs beet red, but I got the lure and recovered quickly. I still find the people who go swimming in freezing weather to be morons, though.]

New, untouched silt and debris were distributed onto the path at higher elevations than this as well, indicating that the water level had been at least a half-meter higher, and probably more like a meter, sometime the previous night. It’s difficult to predict how hard this is on the local animal life; I know beavers often live in hollows in the banks, and water snakes are common, but both of these need air and can be drowned in their dens if the water level traps them within. Animals such as deer than venture into the rapids can easily be swept away, and the debris that is carried can be pretty dangerous even to animals that can handle the turbulent water.

There’s not much else going on. I haven’t been tackling any philosophical ideas recently, and I have a number of posts in draft form but nothing I feel too motivated to finish. It goes that way sometimes, and while I occasionally feel bad for not putting up new content, I also made up my mind long ago not to post for the sake of posting (whether I’m succeeding in that resolve remains to be seen, I suppose.)

Even the arthropods have been fairly scarce. The mantids dispersed quickly throughout the yard, and I occasionally spot one but they’re still shy about close contact; at their size, anything that shows detail at all is close contact, so good shots are tricky.

One exception is a variety of treehopper that has descended on the erupting dog fennel plants. I had to check just now to determine what the difference was between treehopper and leafhopper; basically, treehoppers look like thorns while leafhoppers look like buds or seeds. I also had to add both words to my computer’s dictionary so it would stop highlighting them as misspelled; it seems to think either should be two separate words, or hyphenated at least.

Entylia carinata
Entylia carinata and stem damageThis is an Entylia carinata, no apparent common name, and a significant number appeared on the plants overnight it seems. They run about 5mm in length, and have a tendency (like all ‘hoppers) to scuttle around to the back side of the stem when someone leans close, so it took quite a few tries to get a nice shot. The pic at right, in fact, is one I consider a ‘miss’ except for one thing: I’m pretty sure the discoloration of the plant stem beneath the treehopper is from the damage that they do while sucking out the sap. The amount of nutrients they extract from the sap is minimal, so they draw a lot and process it through their systems pretty quickly, excreting the rest as ‘dew’ that is often harvested by ants. No ants were taking advantage of these, however, even though the species is known as a favorite of them. I’ll keep my eyes open, since while I have a few images of ants farming leafhoppers and aphids, I’d still like some more detailed examples.

I’ll close, despite my disparaging comments above, with a mantis image. It might seem strange, but different individual insects can display different ‘personalities,’ or to be more accurate, varying responses to the same stimulus. What this means is some of the mantids from the same hatching are quite spooky and go for cover if I make the wrong move, while at least one other seems pretty tolerant of me leaning close with the camera and flash/softbox rig. Since this one has moved to a patch of some ornamental grass next to the rosemary bush, I am confident that I’m encountering the same individual, who has now taken on a more distinctive green hue. While larger, this one is still only 20 mm in overall length, so you can imagine how small the head is. In contrast, the sibling who has moved to the dog fennel plants is far more circumspect, and hasn’t allowed any decent images at all, much less a menacing portrait of this nature.
Chinese mantis portrait

Spoke too soon

Looking at the nest box only minutes ago, and it appeared the parents were still trying to feed their nonexistent young, and so I decided to see if the snake was still present. There was a small surprise waiting therein.

surviving bluebird fledgling
Go back down and look at that other image. Do you see any hint of this guy in there? Yeah, me neither, through multiple frames too. But it did explain why I thought I’d heard a peep while outside the nest box, shining my flashlight through the opening – after finding nothing but the snake, I put it down to coming from the mother nearby. Somewhere under or among those coils, however, sat this little sprog, apparently a helping the snake couldn’t stomach. Either that or he fought his way out…

The Girlfriend’s gonna be pissed

One of the bluebird boxes has been playing host to a new family of eastern bluebirds (Sialia sialis) this spring, but I’ve been too busy to do much about it. Still, I was trying to keep an eye on it to possibly catch the emergence of the fledged youngsters, something I’ve missed every time previously. Many birds will bail the nest but spend time on the ground and low branches, learning how to get control of their flight surfaces, but bluebirds apparently get through this stage pretty quickly, like within hours at the most. So I took a peek in the nest box this morning to see how well their feathers were developed, to determine if I should try to set up a camera trap. What the flashlight revealed was that I needn’t bother with this brood any more.

black rat snake coiled in bluebird box
That’s a black rat snake (Elaphe obsoleta obsoleta,) not a terribly big one as far as they go – while they can reach two meters or so in length, I’m guessing from the size of the head that this one is closer to one meter. It had consumed all of the bluebird fledglings, and was crassly using the box as a safe haven to digest its meal. It was well aware of me opening the box for the pics, and was simply holding still in the hopes that I’d go away.

CreatureOfHabitSome of this is perhaps our fault. We’d placed two nest boxes on stumps that had once been huge bushes, which the landlord’s inept assistants had hacked down to some strange modern sculptures – I suspect they misinterpreted their instructions, since the pampas grass in the yard needs to be cut back to nothing each winter. It’s a grass, it grows back; the bushes didn’t. But it means the nest boxes were placed lower to the ground on a handy climbing surface, and black rat snakes are serious climbers.

The adults were definitely confused by this development. They chattered quite a lot more than I usually hear them, and made repeated attempts to enter the box, usually hovering just outside for a few moments – you can even see this one is bearing food. They had to be aware that there was a snake in the box, and they were in as much danger as their young, but it hadn’t overcome their feeding instincts. They don’t have a lot of time to get over this; snakes can consume a lot of food when they want to, letting it cover them for days, weeks, or even months at a time, and if this one decides it can squeeze in an adult, it only has to strike while one of them peeks into the box again.

Had I discovered the snake before it found the young, I might have intervened, moving it to another location – or maybe not; this is how nature plays the game after all. But at this point I’m just leaving the situation as is – another thing The Girlfriend might be displeased with, since she’s not fond of snakes. Yet the damage is already done and the snake has likely lived in the area for at least a couple of years, judging from its size.

As a quick note, if you really want to avoid this fate for any bluebird boxes you erect, about the best you can do is use a freestanding pole, at least 150 cm (five feet) in height, with a squirrel collar well beneath the box. Just about anything else is able to be circumvented by snakes. Or you can take it all as it comes, circle of life and all that – predators routinely thin out the bird populations, and this has been going on for a long time. Our personal feelings towards cute birds and evil snakes isn’t going to improve on it at all, and is in fact pretty self-centered.

Update: Appearances can be deceiving.

Just because, part 16

dew on redbud leavesA couple of pics from early yesterday morning, while it was cool and humid – I was going to put these up last evening but the internet went down. I haven’t been posting much, and this is likely to continue for a while, but I had the chance to chase a few images in the morning. I made an attempt to spot some of the juvenile mantids, since they’re photogenic when bespeckled with dew, but I suspect it got a little too cold for them – the only insects I found were a few elaborate leafhoppers on the dog fennel.

Due to the number of trees in the area, few parts of the yard get any real light from early sunrise – it’s mostly narrow beams peeking briefly through the branches. The redbud tree would only have a handful of leaves backlit by the sun for just a minute or so at a time, forcing me to select a composition quickly. Doing this handheld meant a large aperture and thus short depth; a smaller aperture to increase depth would have required a tripod, and by the time everything was framed up the light would have moved on. I could only have one-half of the leaf in focus at a time, because of the faint V-fold shape, but found one catching the sun through the burden of dew. I confess that this is actually a composite image – the one frame I got with ideal focus had clipped the edge off the background leaf, due to my slight change in position, so I dubbed in a wider perspective from another frame.

Below, a dramatic shot catching the sun shining brightly on a dandelion tuft – the exposure meter compensated for the sunlight coming directly into the lens and rendered the bloom moodily dark, when in reality it was the brightest spot in the yard. I liked the peculiar effect around the light – while the impression is that this is the sun itself, it’s actually the glare from multiple narrow beams peeking through the distant foliage, rendered way out of focus, thus the edge effects. The little solar flare visible at top, however, is either a smear on the lens that I hadn’t spotted, or the vapor of the dew itself evaporating. We’ll go with the latter, because it’s more interesting and doesn’t indicate that I’ve been neglecting my lens cleaning…
DandySunrise

Telegraph Road (live of course)

Dire Straits was a band that, it’s safe to say, forged their own way right from the start. I’ve seen numerous people attempt to define their style, with little agreement, and I’m not even going to try; they adopted whatever style suited their song and goals, at times introducing something inherently recognizable, while at others they borrowed and combined freely. Yet, they never created discord in their compositions.

I have a pet loathing of Paul McCartney’s “Live and Let Die,” which tried to combine several different styles and only succeeded in creating confusing slop, a godawful mess of a song (and I suspect it is only through The Beatles overhyped reputation that it became as successful as it did – anyone else would have bombed out with that train wreck.) But in contrast, the song I’m featuring here routinely changes tempo, mood, and style, fluently and expressively, a river that crashes through the rocks and drifts through placid pools, only to tumble down a cascade again. It tells a tale of urban development, from wilderness to industrial giant to near ghost town; it is, in fact, about Detroit, but could represent just about any once-proud city left behind by a shifting economy (I personally thought it was about England’s fading industrial centers, a la The Full Monty – close enough.)

Mark Knopfler, the lead singer and guitarist, does not have a special voice – it’s throaty and coarse, yet he knows just how to use it. But his real strength is as a composer, and most especially his ability to rip off the most elaborate guitar riffs. The music industry is filled with people who play guitar with their spine, thrashing their heads up and down in an attempt to make Pete Townshend look low-key (I remember seeing a live band where the lead guitarist was in perpetual danger of slamming the head of his instrument against the stage – without really producing anything special from the effort.) Knopfler, in contrast, is the most minimalist guitarist I’ve ever seen, hands barely moving as his fingertips drill out complicated melodies worthy of a symphony, virtually free of the electronic effects so prevalent from electric guitar bands. One of the traits I most admired from the eighties was the ability for some bands to blend together numerous instruments, complimenting each other, without feeling the need to bury the sound in feedback and sustain; the result is a blend of subtleties, no sound taking dominance, but all of them contributing to the feel like a complicated recipe.

This particular song, however, gets most of its feel from the keyboardist, Alan Clark; Knopfler doesn’t really kick it off until late in the set. This version is live at Hammersmith Odeon in London in 1983, the same recording (with a slight tweak in mix) later issued on the Money For Nothing compilation album, and Clark brings us back in for the encore set with a slightly haunting, flutelike melody just barely heard over the audience, enormously effective in getting their attention. Throughout the song, the keyboards maintain the mood and carry us through the transitions, often delicately, always richly and with just the right amount of detail, not lost under the crash of other sounds – at least until the latter instrumental.

Credit where it’s due: much of the effect comes from quality work on the sound mixing boards, where the relative strengths of any particular instrument are carefully balanced and blended. Note how both Knopfler’s guitar and Clark’s electric piano taper off together at times, fading into the distance, but later in the song the guitar takes precedent and the keyboards only make the barest appearance – by that time, the song has evolved into a dramatic concert closer. Quite simply, this is how you do it:

Another major selling point for Dire Straits, as far as I’m concerned, is their emphasis on lyrics with more bite to them – sometimes satirical, sometimes insightful, almost always with more heft than the majority of pop songs… with the possible exception of “The Bug,” which is pretty lackluster lyrically, but carried extraordinarily well by the music. Okay, “Calling Elvis” is phoned in as well, but check out “My Parties” and “Ticket to Heaven” for their commentary on consumerism and televangelists, and “The Man’s Too Strong” for perhaps the best use of Knopfler’s voice.

Mass challenged

Juvenile Chinese mantis on azalea
The newborn Chinese mantids have begun to disperse into different locations; I have spotted them not only on the azalea bush neighboring the one they were born within, but many meters away near other flowers and on the dog fennel plants. This makes me self-conscious, because they have to cross some sizable (to them) patches of open lawn to do so, and I’m always concerned about stepping on one making the long trek. There isn’t much I could do, save making all activities in the yard painstakingly slow as I look for a little brownish reed about a centimeter in length, so I simply tell myself that these kind of hazards are faced by the species all the time – that’s why so many are born at once. Of all the hatchlings from last year, only one that I know of reached adulthood to produce an egg sac, the progenitor of these. Others might have spread to other locations, but considering that dozens had hatched out, a solitary local remnant gives some indication of a high mortality rate.

They’re still quite shy, but slightly less so now, and with patience I can slip in close to do the portraits that I like.

juvenile Chinese mantis portrait
Shots like this are very hit-or-miss – I have to lean over the bush in an awkward position to get this close, and holding steady in the narrow focus range is… well, actually not at all within my abilities – I usually just try to time my swaying to trip the shutter right as the subject weaves into focus. This is a keeper among many discards.

I went out later to try and get a semi-accurate measurement, to give a decent idea of size. Shocking as this may seem, the mantids aren’t inclined to hold perfectly still while I close a set of calipers near their heads, but the estimate is that my subject here measures perhaps slightly over a millimeter across the width of the head, certainly less than two. I’m pleased that I even captured the facets of the eyes, but it’s safe to say this is the limit of resolution for this rig (the defunct 28-105 reversed at 28mm.) Note the antenna that’s pointed towards us, going way out of focus – and this is taken at about f16. The depth-of-field is not going to get much better. In fact, this indicates that the other antenna was very close to being parallel to the focal plane (i.e, the digital sensor,) since it would have started going out of focus itself otherwise.

Now, another curiosity. While getting the images seen two posts back, a tiny flying insect wandered up the glass of the macro tank, and I took the opportunity to snag a quick frame before it flew off. Only after unloading the memory card did I realize I caught something very peculiar, something I’d never seen nor heard of before.

fairyfly, perhpas Mymar
Those ‘wings’ completely messed me up – they were barely visible in the viewfinder, certainly not in enough detail to see their bizarre nature. It took a little poking around to discover that this is a species of fairyfly, or the Mymaridae family – actually a class of wasp, but hardly one anybody has any reason to be frightened of. Near as I can tell, this is a genus Mymar, but I’m not going to put money on it. The family is one of the parasitic wasps, but unlike those found at that link; these lay their eggs within the eggs of other insects, whereupon they hatch out and burrow into the hatching larva of their hosts – not exactly sporting from our perspective. It is the arthropod equivalent of original sin, dooming the host from the moment of birth. In such a small package, too.

fairyfly scaled against mantisI realize I’m using rather disparaging terms about size, from my biased perspective, so let’s drop the diminutives and look at a scale comparison. Seen here are two images shown full-frame – this is what I captured with the camera, before cropping. They were taken at the same magnification, and we already know how big the mantis is, so this makes the fairyfly less than 0.5mm in body length, stretching all the way out to maybe 2mm with the wings and antennae – little wonder I could barely make out any details. If it weren’t for the fact that I was already watching subjects behind it, with a contrasting background, I never would have spotted it at all. I look at things like this with a certain level of awe; there’s a brain in that tiny petite head, seemingly not big enough for four or five brain cells, but it dictates exactly what kind of eggs to seek out and what to do with them, along with handling the physics of flight.

Which is an entirely different realm than birds inhabit, to say nothing of aircraft. The fluid dynamics of air, at this level, is more coherent – like water, air molecules bind and thus move together to a limited extent, and at a small scale it is almost ‘thick.’ There is the old trope of scientists saying bumblebees cannot fly, proving scientists are stupid of course – except that’s not what was said; it was said that bumblebees wings do not work in the same aerodynamic manner as birds and aircraft, which is perfectly true. Instead of using an airfoil shape to produce a downward flow from the rear (not, as a ridiculous number of sources put it, reducing air pressure on the upper surface so the wing is pushed upward by the pressure below – this fallacy of airfoils has been around way too long,) insects use the same angle-of-attack concept that allows us to ‘fly’ our hands out the window of a moving car, creating vortices of turbulent air that produce directional force. In other words, they have a highly developed method of stirring up waves, creating higher pressure in whatever direction is needed to maneuver. The downward force of a normal airfoil, highly visible in the animated gif seen on this page, is instead developed by the varying ways insect wings thrash the air, exploiting the limited cohesive effects to better advantage. The weird fanlike wings of Mymaridae, rather than just making a breeze, produce enough vortices for lifting the negligible mass of the insect’s body without needing much mass of their own, which of course lowers the energy needed to move them, or even to develop and maintain them. Efficient unto the need thereof.

But how? Part 14: Atheology

It’s funny, because there really are too few instances of exactly what this post is, and I’m not sure why – it can’t possibly be because atheists are too nice about it. But considering that the last ‘But how?‘ post was about the feeble attempts at rendering a god existent by logic, it’s time to look at the other side, which is rendering a god ridiculous by logic, otherwise known as atheology. More or less, actually – atheology is indeed a concept, but it encompasses a broader approach than what I’m tackling here. The word worked best when following the last topic, so I’m using it rather frivolously here.

There are, actually, quite a few examples of logical arguments for no god – or to be more specific, showing that the god hypothesis doesn’t work at all. We’re not merely talking agnosticism here, where the lack of proof means taking a position of uncertainty. Nor are we talking about simply poking holes in religious positions and claims, such as floods and rebirth cycles – that’s child’s play, really. We’re talking about actual logical expectations that render the concepts untenable at best, but sometimes even self-defeating. An example of that one is our first:

Omniscience and omnipotence are mutually exclusive. There’s an old saw, a question that runs simply, If god is omnipotent, can he create a rock so big he cannot lift it? It’s a basic paradox examining the failed concept of infinite anything. Yet we don’t even need that to make the premise crash, because it’s pretty simple. Omniscience means that such a being not only knows everything that is, but will be as well – all consequences of actions. No religious person argues against this at all. Yet to know everything that will happen, one must be powerless to change it. If it can be changed of course, then it is not known what any future (or past) state might be, because the change has not occurred yet. Not to mention how badly this trashes all those concepts of free will and man not being a mere programmed player in the universe. Omniscience actually makes any god itself a player in the events that must unfold. However, even a lack of these extreme properties, just settling for “really powerful” and “pretty damn smart,” doesn’t eradicate the ‘man as pawn’ scenario, since anytime man’s actions or effects can be changed at whim, they’re rendered pointless against the impulses of god’s mind. It doesn’t matter how good someone is if they’re killed off before finding salvation, or if god decides to change those rules anyway. It is the ultimate slavery, not just of freedom or will, but consequence and impact as well; wave goodbye to the meaning that people claim religion provides. The only way around this is if god is completely non-intervening – which makes humans bothering with such a being pointless as well.

Everlasting life is soul-destroying. This mostly applies to the abrahamic religions that promise eternal bliss or torment, but also gathers in buddhism and its ultimate enlightenment concept. First off, all of the experiences we have, pain and pleasure and good eats and jealousy and driving really fast, are all tied to the physical body. To even exist, they need the comparative experiences, the counterpoints – we know pain because we don’t feel it constantly, we enjoy pleasure as a special reward. Perpetuating these makes them meaningless.

Rewards and punishments only serve two purposes, however. The first is mere bluff, the promise of consequences. The second is the actual demonstration of consequences, to prevent a repeat of the behavior that elicited them. In both cases, perpetual reward or punishment is utterly pointless.

Not only that, but a perpetual existence would be the most boring thing imaginable, regardless of the state we’re experiencing at the time. People really don’t grasp the idea of forever and ever, and how it would destroy anticipation, surprise, the very idea that there is something else to experience. We’re driven, right now, to accomplish certain things because we know we won’t always have the chance to – life is finite. We seek to improve our lives because improvement is always possible. Every religious person, no matter how devout, recognizes this fundamentally (yes, that’s a pun, I don’t write these blithely you know) – everyone has the same drives towards society and interactions regardless of their supposed belief in what comes afterward. Religious folk should be the most mellow on earth, frozen in their actions and desires once they know they’re guaranteed an ultimate reward transcending anything life has to offer. I’ll just leave that gigglefest hanging out there…

We must also examine how enormously pointless it would be to create a plane of existence to populate for a brief period of time as lead-in to an unchanging, perpetual state. This accomplishes… what, exactly? And is there some value to an infinitely expanding sphere of really happy souls, never changing, never going anyplace? The immediate answer from religious folk is that we cannot fathom what the real plan is, but this is fatuous handwaving – we’ve supposedly just been told this is the state of affairs, and it’s exactly what’s being addressed here; imagining that there’s something else that renders this different somehow is no more valid than imagining that it’s all horseshit (the latter is far more supported by the facts, actually.)

Not to mention that every last vestige of the whole idea, pleasure and pain and the fear of death and so on, all fit precisely (and without any special circumstances or unknown plans whatsoever) into a basically physical, evolved life form. There are no fancy scenarios that have to be created to explain why we have a sex drive if sex is a sin, and why shellfish are tasty and nutritious if we’re not supposed to eat them.

Natural laws. It’s almost stunning what some very basic physical principles can do. Everything that we do, everything that we see, experience, and even predict, boils down to, believe it or not, four simple physical forces. They’re tied into everything, so well in fact that we can predict the Higgs Boson and gravity waves. Pause for a second; we have predicted finding the after-effects of an event 13.8 billion years old. And the only reason we could actually do this is if all of it, from Day One, ran like clockwork.

Even in everyday life, we depend on this. We could not drive a car or cook a pizza if these were not incredibly, precisely dependable. We could never have built the computers we’re using now, and especially not the GPS unit that takes us to our destinations. We can map dark matter because we know what it takes to bend light, packets of energy that have traveled trillions of kilometers across the universe – these forces extend out as far as we can detect, which is a volume of space that defies any comparative analogy. And there is no penalty for breaking the laws of physics, because we cannot actually do so, nor have we ever seen it happen in the slightest. This leaves almost no place for a god to be acting.

One of the few exceptions to this, the curious traits of quantum mechanics, is what some have claimed as evidence of an acting god. There are many problems with this, including the bare fact that the odd effects of QM don’t propagate upwards all the way to the molecular level, that they remain predictable on large scales, and that random events do not translate to ‘intention’ in any useful way. This last one can be applied to just about any ‘god of the gaps’ claim made against anything that science still finds mysterious, since any property can be claimed for these mysteries – it’s evidence of extra-dimensional aliens, or suggests that we’re in a simulation – but without something testable, it remains a teapot in space.

This ties in with:

Conservation of energy. Within those four forces sits a very simple effect: that energy always acts to distribute itself evenly among all matter. In order to provide the energy that moves our vehicles along, we have to rob it from somewhere else with a higher potential, eventually leading all the way back to the sun – this is the Second Law of Thermodynamics that ignorant religious folk like to claim we don’t understand (or doesn’t even exist.) Any concentration of energy will dissipate among all surrounding matter unless held in check by one of the four forces. The burner on the stove heats the pan, which in turn heats the contents, solely because of this process.

Any creation event, any miracle, any alteration of this universe-wide interaction, requires the input of energy, which is then going to dissipate – a net gain of the energy in the universe, unless it is transferred from someplace else. Either way, there are ripple effects from these energy changes, atoms having to cope with a sudden influx, inertia being shed abruptly – depending on the size of the miracle, anything from a sudden spot of intense heat to a shockwave that could destroy planets.

The argument, of course, is that god will prevent all of the negative effects, and can not only create energy at will, he can vanish all of the after-effects. The evidence for this fails to exist, however, and Superman is impervious to bullets because he comes from Krypton – there’s no shortage of stupendous claims, but without either evidence nor value, we have nothing more than stories; excuses do not gain the value of a working theory solely through wanting them to be true. Even the scriptural accounts themselves do not provide any useful reasoning; consider that, in joshua 10, the sun and moon are halted in the sky (not, curiously enough, that the rotation of the Earth was halted – apparently god was not on board with the whole orbital physics thing), a manifestation of energy and inertia physics of a magnitude that could turn the planet into molten slag. Every molecule on and of the Earth had to be stopped in its path without any ill effect – and started again afterward, all so joshua had time to finish slaying his enemies. Because it was much more useful than god doing so himself. And don’t ask who created the enemies…

Curiously, while scientists, and merely the really observant, have never seen the slightest indication of these miraculous violations, the devout supposedly see them all the time, so the argument that god is trying to keep it hidden doesn’t pass muster. Even if a god was deciding to be selective in who witnessed the magic, wouldn’t it make more sense to demonstrate it in front of those who don’t believe?

Moreover, one is also obligated to explain why any god would establish physical laws extending throughout the vast reaches of the visible universe, only to thwart them by producing sporadic miracles – and then attempt to cover these up again.

We are physically-dependent beings. Our whole lives revolve around detecting physical properties, seeking cause-and-effect, observing patterns, and predicting consequences – and this works really, really well, responsible for every comfort, every convenience, every function of our lives from beginning to end. Even our minds, supposedly designed this way, strive for proofs, evidence, and physical manifestations of anything – these traits are related throughout every example of scripture that I’ve come across. By our very nature, we remain skeptical of stories, and realms that do not provide any form of personal experience. The religious folk that deny this, claiming we freely accept heaven and otherworldly planes of existence, are conveniently forgetting that religious artifacts, manifestations of miracles, and even prayer are all attempts to bolster belief with physical evidence, and it occurs everywhere.

The main take on this, if we accept the religious premise, is that we are designed to doubt the very existence of a creator – which makes everything about humankind an enormous game of some nature. Hyperpotent beings should have no problems with not just communicating the ‘true’ nature of existence, but even implanting it directly in our minds so doubt couldn’t even arise – yet this obviously didn’t happen.

The argument, long ago tackled, is that this is the ol’ free will thingy, permitting mankind to choose a path that leads to salvation or torment, enlightenment or repetition, advancement or retardation. Despite the long history of this claim, few ever seem to realize that it does nothing to eradicate the underlying pointlessness. Why have mankind play any game at all? Why, indeed, have mankind, period?

This leads to:

The remarkable self-absorption of both man and god. We know the universe is vast. Even the distances encompassed within our little solar system are staggering. Yet the creator of this panoply of physics seems inordinately concerned with the antics of, really, a tiny percentage of living matter in the paper-thin skin of atmosphere on just one tiny body amongst it all; the entire Earth takes up not 0.03 percent of our solar system’s mass, 99.8 of which is the sun itself – which is one of an estimated 100 billion in the Milky Way galaxy, itself one of an estimated 100-200 billion galaxies in the known universe. And not just concerned, but constantly involved (depending on which religion you choose) and neurotically dependent on the opinions thereof – apparently being superpowerful, able to create at whim, doesn’t eradicate the emotional dependency on an infinitesimal manifestation of living matter and their ridiculous antics.

Moreover, despite knowing all of this, religious folk continually insist that our actions are not only important, but part of a grand plan – we are the humble servants (exact words) of this hyperpotent being. Again, no one knows what this plan is, but we’re integral to it. And somehow, very few ever get to the point of wondering what game this could possibly be, because there’s nothing we could provide that any god couldn’t achieve without us.

Gods are incredibly petty. And this goes for even our own self-absorbed human perspective. In nearly every account given the world over, gods are surprisingly similar to fascist dictators, demonstrating all of the worst examples of the corruption of great power. While one might expect enormously potent beings to be threatened by nothing, what we see instead are myriad examples of abuse, coercion, jealousy, revenge, petulance, and even in the mildest of cases, ego and demands of offerings and sacrifice. All by themselves these are more than a little disturbing, but when considered against the claims that we are intended creations of these personalities, it becomes ludicrous. Only the mentally unbalanced becomes so upset over something they purposefully made to be exactly this way.

Further, these are all human traits, and again, we have perfectly adequate reasons why these exist and how they came about. No supernatural being has any use for emotions of any kind, since emotions are stimulants of survival behavior. Our anthropocentric tendencies insist that we can relate best to humans, and thus human analogs in gods, but the chances of an extra-dimensional being possessing identical emotions are not only infinitesimal, they could serve no function whatsoever. Even if we believe that any creative force actually possesses a personality, it is remarkably unlikely to be anything we would recognize, much less relate to.

Religion is self-affirming. While the majority of the world’s religions expend far more effort into delineating the number of things mankind should not be doing over the positive actions it should (a peculiar form of guidance and planning to be sure,) very few religious people ever find themselves on their god’s bad side, when by all rights this unfortunate state should be held by the majority of the world’s population. The devout not only consider their faith a mark of status and indeed elitism, most are adherents only of the religion they were raised within, and remain largely unfamiliar with the other manifestations of faith they pronounce their superiority of. We have to recognize that religion is serving more as emotional affirmation than any kind of behavioral guide, making it less effective than speed limits.

We cannot ignore the fact that, in service to this indulgence, some of the largest slaughters and greatest inhumanities of our species’ history have been committed, demonstrating that even if any supernatural being existed, a) their influence is remarkably weak, b) they are not the least involved in beneficence and ‘caring,’ or c) their rules for humans just aren’t working. In a few decades in the US, we managed to almost completely overturn racism, certainly eradicating the openness with which it was once practiced – but a few thousand years of god’s word hasn’t been enough to instill peace, or even humility, much less an agreement on which religion is proper. Segue to:

There is no universal similarity in the world’s religions. While we are often told that scripture and religious revelation are god’s communications to its creation, there is such a huge variety of gods related throughout the world as to render this ridiculous. Somehow we are to believe that most of the world’s populations, throughout thousands of years of history, have pursued false idols to a huge degree, but only right here, right now, the church that we attend got it exactly right. Of course.

Religious folk make a great deal out of whatever common elements they can find, such as the number of cultures with flood myths, but we should expect common elements among many cultures, especially of things that occur worldwide. No attention is paid to the differences, however, which outnumber the similarities by a hundred to one, even more when we discount any examples that might have come from cultural crossovers and absorptions. Even further, claiming that any culture at all has strayed from god’s word means an inherent recognition that religion can be entirely made up – if all those cultures aren’t following the real god, who the hell are they following? And if they’re, as proponents of a sensus divinitatis blurt out, merely getting an impression of supernatural influence without accurate details, who gets to pronounce themselves correct in such circumstances?

No religion has ever gotten the details correct. The shape and age of the Earth, the true nature of the sun and the stars, the presence of microbes and how to avoid them, what lightning is, the methods of building a strong community, the hazards of believing promises from leaders… all the kinds of information that one would not only want from divine guidance, they would have been excellent evidence in support of such. Instead, what we actually have are myriad different, conflicting, and truly spectacular creation stories, completely inaccurate depictions of the sky and bodies therein, and total indifference to most of the pitfalls humans could possibly face. Again, religious folk struggle to interpret vague passages within scripture as supporting dinosaurs or an old Earth, but no devotee ever posited these possibilities at all, much less followed them faithfully, until observations rendered them inescapably correct – it’s not really useful information if we had to find it on our own before recognizing it within scripture.

Additionally, the inaccuracies within scripture produce their own problems: either the gods imparted false information to us, or the scribes somehow got these details way wrong. In either case, the only thing it tells us is to stop paying attention to scripture. The third possibility, considered by far too many people, is that scripture is right and everything that we have observed, tested, predicted, and use every day is actually wrong. Treating this ludicrous and desperate proposal with an ounce of seriousness just for giggles, this means that nothing that we do or observe is trustworthy – including what we read from scripture. That’s only a recipe for a rubber room.

No religion has produced evidence, prediction, or function beyond the merely emotional. While absolutely brimming with promises, properties, and guidance, no religion has managed to achieve even a simple improvement in our lives beyond the personal; the most theocratic states are among those with the lowest standards of living and the most oppression, falling in with the dictatorships. In US prisons at least, the percentage of religious inmates is significantly higher than the general population, instead of far lower as one would reasonably expect. Religious miracles are always either unsubstantiated folklore or vague examples easily explained by other means. Scriptural miraculous events have left no traces to be found, despite their claimed worldwide impact. Studies on the value of prayer turn up no effect except bias. Predicted events from scripture have repeatedly failed to manifest. No buddhist ever displays stigmata; no muslim ever drops dead from a shaman’s curse. In short, religion is a cultural artifact, manifested nowhere else, in no other way. We cannot use it to predict reactions, prepare for future events, or even form a rough guideline of the behavior of the adherents.

As numerous science-fiction stories have delved into, if we attempted to explain the function and value of religion to an alien species, we wouldn’t get anywhere – we can’t even do this for ourselves without blind selectivity. The only reason we accept any religion at all is because we’re hopelessly influenced by what others think; religion is spread by cultural pressure. Any comparison of the world’s various faiths for accuracy or explanatory values comes up poorly – adherents can find plenty wrong with every religion but their own, while excusing the exact same kinds of illogical and improbable properties of their own that they claim makes all other faiths corrupt. No religious culture has jumped ahead of all others in any standard one cares to name, while cultures with low religiosity show much higher standards of living, a correlation for which no one has yet managed to find another explanation.

Now, let’s be fair. I said in the previous ‘But how?’ post that logic isn’t all it’s cracked up to be: logic is only the extrapolation of dependable experience, or accepted traits, into rules or predictions, but if the experience is wrong or the traits inadequately understood, logic isn’t sufficient to render an accurate answer. Therefore, a logical argument that no gods exist is worthless, right?

Well, that depends – especially since that question above is a logical posit in itself ;-). First off, most of these are established by the very properties that religious folk claim, and are thus self-defeating. If the details are wrong, well, so is the religion that relies on them.

However, the real test of any logical argument is the evidence that it manifests. If we understand this property and that reaction, then we should expect to see so-and-so when combined – if the result is as predicted, we know that we understand the properties enough to produce something with functionality. There are numerous properties that we can expect to see from supernatural beings (despite the attempt to hide them away from our perceptions) and plenty of opportunities for religion to show worth. Yet positive religious properties are scarce, and predictions are even scarcer; we have more claims for why these don’t exist than actual examples that they do. “It’s all a plan we don’t know,” and “god works in mysterious ways” and “god is present in the areas science hasn’t found answers for” and “god made it all look like he didn’t exist” and “the long list of evidence disproving scripture is a test” – none of these are found anywhere in scripture. But while there is no such thing as proving a negative, we can show that the expected results from any positive claim do not manifest, or are logically inconsistent.

Any and all excuses for a lack of positive evidence can, and should, immediately be dismissed; the point should never be to justify belief despite a void of proof, but to demonstrate the positive, beneficial aspects of any hypothesis. It’s not enough to know a bunch of people with faith, and the fact that ‘faith’ is such a vague, contextual term shows that everyone knows it’s a void – especially when it can be applied with equal facility to every other sect that must be false. Value derives from something that works without faith, without excuses, without someone needing to believe in its existence. We can feel much more comfortable calling something ‘truth’ if it works the same for everyone, regardless of their cultural upbringing or predilection not to believe it. Vaccinations work for buddhists, hindus, rastafarians, christians, muslims, and atheists – despite the fact that their development required utilizing a theory that some of those faiths deny even exists. That’s value; that’s functionality.

There is a common concept, used not just in courts but throughout science as well, called the ‘preponderance of evidence.’ While there may be many different ways that each item of evidence can have come about, if just one scenario can satisfy all of them, probability favors this as the correct one – especially if other explanations involve highly improbable events, coincidences, or inexplicable behavior. So while countless arguments may be forwarded in response to the list above, I’d be very interested to see if anyone manages to find just one that covers them all, to see if it’s any better than the one that already exists: that there are no gods.

I’m gonna git you, sucker

mosquito larva 4th instarA couple of years ago, I captured a particular sequence of images that didn’t quite cut it, as far as I was concerned, and I’ve been trying to get a better set ever since. This evening, I was successful.

What you see to the left is a mosquito in larval stage. Mosquitoes lay their eggs in the water, usually a still pool for a particular reason we will eventually get to. They hatch out underwater and spend a significant portion of their lives there, most of it looking about like this. They remain air breathers, most species using a snorkel-like appendage located on their hind ends, so that’s the head facing downwards. They move by thrashing their bodies, propelled by the hairs on either end, and scarf their food from debris found on the bottom of the pool. They will molt four times in this stage, each period between molts referred to as an instar – seen here is likely the fourth instar, having gone three molts since merging from the egg. Then comes the pupal stage.

[Okay, I hear your questions, so let’s address them before we move on. No, this is not some weird kind of lens distortion or camera angle – the water surface really is that curved. Photographed in the ‘Tiny Tank‘ that I made, the water formed a serious meniscus due to the narrow space between the slides – it’s just a trick of surface tension.]

The pupal stage is a non-feeding stage, like it is in most arthropods – it’s when the mosquito’s voice cracks and they begin noticing the opposite sex in a whole new way. They don’t spend it locked in a cocoon like butterflies and moths, however; they still swim about, and have to go to the surface for air frequently, only now, they use snorkels at their shoulders instead of at the end of the abdomen. Don’t look at me, I didn’t design this.
mosquito pupa
I had initially thought this was a different insect, and I doubt anyone can really blame me (not for that, anyway.) Within that big bulge are the developing wings, legs, antennae, and proboscis, with the eyes making those dark spots of course. In this stage, the mosquito will come to the surface frequently, often remaining there if nothing threatening is happening, but the slightest sign of danger will send them flipping downwards into the safety of deeper water. This is relative, of course, because that may be only a few centimeters. They remain in this crouched position all of the time, which is what clued me in that something was going to happen when I spotted this next display.
mosquito immediately prior to emerging
Seeing one stretched out straight like this was suspicious, and the burnished look just added to it – I’m guessing this is actually a layer of air as the mosquito is loosening its skin. Having captured a few pupae and placed them in the mid-sized tank, I raised the water level to the top of the glass, just before overflowing, so the distinct line you see across the image is not just the water level, but the glass edge as well. All of the junk you see herein is pollen, which is freaking everywhere right now and impossible to keep out of the water.
mosquito beginning to emerge
I didn’t have long to wait. With a couple of preliminary twitches like an escape artist loosening up the straitjacket, the adult mosquito began to emerge from both its old skin and the water itself. The magnifying effect of the water makes this slightly disconcerting, but still shows what’s happening both above and below.
mosquito partially emerged
This isn’t quick, but it isn’t as slow as some insect activity that I’ve seen either. There’s no visible motion, but every time you look you realize the adult is a little further out.
emerging mosquito with freed legs
In three minutes, the adult has gotten far enough out to release the legs, which flex upwards and ‘ease the kinks out’ before extending down to the water’s surface. If you look beneath the surface, you can see the out-of-focus blob of another pupa who came up for air right alongside and remained there, photobombing part of my sequence.
emerging mosquito extending legs
Now the emerging mosquito has extended its legs down to the water, but things are still moving slowly at this point – most likely, the chitin is drying and hardening while fluid is being pumped into the legs, wings, and antennae. This is the vulnerable stage, and the reason why mosquitoes lay their eggs in still water like stagnant ponds, deep puddles, and any basin that might be left collecting water. Any ripple or splash at this point can waterlog the insect, since it has not yet developed the water-repellent properties of the adult stage, meaning the mosquito can drown easily. Many do; it’s not uncommon to find several drowned adults in any active pond, having been caught by a gust of wind or a splash when they’re most vulnerable.
mosquito almost fully emerged
The wings are almost useless at this point, unable to support the mosquito’s weight, but this won’t last more than a couple of minutes. The emerged adult tugs its abdomen free of the molted skin, leaving it sitting just under the surface while standing on the water and getting psyched at finally being legal age.
newly emerged adult mosquito
Within a few minutes, the adult will be ready to fly, so I’m going to horrify some and gratify others to say this is the point where I swatted my model. Both The Girlfriend and The Younger Sprog are allergic to mosquitoes, and even a minor bite will produce a wicked welt; neither of them is wild about my letting the little suckers hatch out just for these images. It doesn’t help that, for some reason, I’m next to immune to mosquitoes, not attracting them much at all and barely noticing their bites when I do, while the ladies will get eaten alive on any humid summer eve.

I’m going to close with one last image, as a collection of pupae all lined up together against the glass. Their reflections from the underside of the water surface can be seen, as well as lots of pollen. I can’t tell you why the one is so dark – my guess is that it’s the early stage pupa and will become as light as the others in a day or so. But hey, when they line up so cooperatively (especially when they’ll dive away if I move incautiously,) I have to take the shot.
four mosquito pupae posing

Mucking out the stall

Anyone who’s ever dealt with livestock housed in a barn knows about the wicked unbalance of energy involved: it takes a lot more effort to remove the shit than it did to deposit it. This is an apt analogy for addressing theology.

Jerry Coyne and the various commenters at Why Evolution Is True had a great go at this, but it’s been burning in the back of my mind since then, and I simply felt like treating it in detail. And this will be long, as foreshadowed above, because it takes no effort to emit inanity that looks good, but it takes many times that to show why looks are deceiving (many times no effort? Isn’t that still no effort? Let’s ignore my writing weaknesses and move on…)

I am shamelessly copying Prof. Coyne’s quote direct, since I’m not going to fetch the book in question and spend even more time screwing with it, but this does mean any inaccuracies within it are not mine. This is intended as a critical-thinking exercise; what I’m covering here can be applied anyplace throughout the book, and many other places besides.

The book in question is The Experience of God: Being, Consciousness, Bliss by David Bentley Hart, considered one of the best theological arguments for god and/or religion, at least among those who already believe in the christian god. According to Prof. Coyne, it all reads like this particular passage, but quite frankly I don’t care – unless it is purposefully intended as either satire or a caricature, the issues with this passage are manifest, and context isn’t going to improve it any.

The essential truth to which Lonergan’s argument points is that the very search for truth is implicitly a search for God (properly defined, that is). As the mind moves toward an ever more comprehensive capacious, and “supereminent” grasp of reality, it necessarily moves toward an ideal level of reality at which intelligibility and intelligence are no longer distinguishable concepts. It seems to me we all really know this in some sense: that we assume that the human mind can be a true mirror of objective reality because we assume that objective reality is already a mirror of mind. No other comportment toward truth as a desirable end is existentially possible. The ascent toward ever greater knowledge is, if only tacitly and secretly and contre coeur, an ascent toward an ultimate encounter with limitless consciousness, limitless reason, a transcendent reality where being and knowledge are always one and the same, and so inalienable from each other. To believe that being is inexhaustibly intelligible is to believe also—whether one wishes to acknowledge it or not—that reality emanates from an inexhaustible intelligence: in the words of the Shevanashvatara Upanishad, “pure consciousness, omnipresent, omniscient, the creator of time.”

The first thing I will say is that, from a long history of reading stuff of this nature, the style of writing now triggers my bullshit detector right off the bat. Grandiose, assertive, and unequivocal – all warning signs that the writer is not presenting arguments intended to convince the reader, but statements aimed at appeasing those already in agreement; this can be said of virtually all theology. Still, plenty of people read this with great delight and find it convincing, so herewith, a detailed breakdown of why many others remain unconvinced.

The essential truth to which Lonergan’s argument points is that the very search for truth is implicitly a search for God (properly defined, that is).

Ignoring, for the moment, that curious caveat of “properly defined,” what Hart is expressing here is that mere curiosity implies god – a pretty substantial statement, especially when I can picture a puppy playing with a windblown leaf and a hawk shifting its head back-and-forth to determine if the movement it just spotted indicates prey. We have plenty of reasons to examine our environment to determine what’s happening, and the functionality of this can hardly be ignored. Yet, with the inclusion of the fatally-overworked word “truth” (twice, mind you,) Hart is attempting to elevate such basic behavior into a property of transcendence.

As the mind moves toward an ever more comprehensive capacious, and “supereminent” grasp of reality, it necessarily moves toward an ideal level of reality at which intelligibility and intelligence are no longer distinguishable concepts.

A quick, dirty aside: I’m fairly certain Hart intended to say that intelligibility and intelligence could not be differentiated from each other, and not that both words have lost their meaning, but that’s the way the sentence is structured ;-)

Ignoring that, there’s lots of contentious elements within here. Gaining intelligence, in the form of “ever more comprehensive grasp of reality,” does not in any way imply that ultimate knowledge is the goal or even possible, any more than my breaking into a run will “necessarily” bring me to light speed. Certainly, we seek knowledge, but a quick comparison of people you know will demonstrate that some seek it more than others, while few believe in any way that there’s a saturation point.

That’s not even the main thrust of the sentence, which outright says that knowledge will reveal reality itself to be intelligent – otherwise we couldn’t understand it; that’s the conflation of intelligible and intelligence he alludes to. The history of science shows this to be not just a vast assumption, but a peculiar one as well: if anything, our expanding knowledge has revealed that the universe, despite its complexity, is remarkably simple, governed by four fundamental forces and extremely predictable processes. This is exactly what theologians are so desperate to deny, but a mere assertion isn’t any kind of rebuttal to the years of research we have that establishes this simplicity.

It seems to me we all really know this in some sense: that we assume that the human mind can be a true mirror of objective reality because we assume that objective reality is already a mirror of mind. No other comportment toward truth as a desirable end is existentially possible.

While I have run across the occasional moonchild that expresses such sentiments, it’s safe to say this is far from a viewpoint we all hold – some of us find it to be vapid nonsense. No one has to assume the mind can “mirror reality” to seek understanding, only that it can produce an accurate enough model to provide functionality to us. Yet we also find it enormously entertaining when our minds are fooled, as with optical illusions or, really, any work of fiction to be found. It is these very works of fiction that give an indication that it is not objective reality that is so important to us, but the appeasement of a wide variety of desires despite reality – this runs the gamut from fantasy to drug addiction, romance novels to video games. If anyone did, in fact, consider these mirroring objective reality, that’s what we call mental illness…

But, “No other comportment toward truth as a desirable end is existentially possible.” This sentence, a definitive pronouncement based on vague and arbitrary terms, is a linguistic failure. “Truth” is of course the golden child of all religions, yet its usage invariably refers to something that we cannot establish or even quantify, certainly nothing so bourgeois as evidence. While “existential,” in philosophical terms, refers to the subjectivity of meaning, as in the stuff that people search for – which by extension indicates that anything is “existentially possible,” since it’s up to the individual to establish it for themselves.

The ascent toward ever greater knowledge is, if only tacitly and secretly and contre coeur, an ascent toward an ultimate encounter with limitless consciousness, limitless reason, a transcendent reality where being and knowledge are always one and the same, and so inalienable from each other.

Let me proffer another analogy: this is just as nonsensical as saying that the act of eating is the ascent towards consuming the entire universe. Religious folk do so adore their superlatives and absolutes, and I can only consider this a mark of insecurity, the quest for something that cannot be surpassed or beaten. If we stop to think about it, though, what would we really get from omniscience, or as Hart puts it, limitless consciousness and limitless reason (I suppose he thought he was being gauche to use the simpler word)? Nothing left to discover, nothing able to surprise us, nothing remaining to see or do or experience in any way? That sounds like a recipe for ultimate stagnation to me, but then again, I’ve actually thought about the consequences of such concepts, rather than simply stringing together unsurpassable abstracts to foster feelings of awe.

And, holy shit, contre coeur!? This alone earns Hart the Pompous Fuckhead Award, since the term means simply, “reluctantly.” That’s all – no subtle nuances or unique properties. What possible purpose could there be to supplant a common word with a (misused) French term, except to try and dazzle the reader with worldliness? Seriously, this is a strong indicator that the writer is not motivated by communication or understanding, but by the desire to be seen as learnéd. Not a good sign at all.

To believe that being is inexhaustibly intelligible is to believe also—whether one wishes to acknowledge it or not—that reality emanates from an inexhaustible intelligence: in the words of the Shevanashvatara Upanishad, “pure consciousness, omnipresent, omniscient, the creator of time.”

“Whether one wishes to acknowledge it or not.” Do you like that? It’s Hart’s feeble attempt to make anyone who challenges his overreaching and unsupportable statements feel self-conscious about their motives. And this is supposed to be one of the better arguments…

But who, anywhere, believes that “being is inexhaustibly intelligible” as claimed here? There’s a huge difference between, “there’s a lot more left to learn” and, “the whole universe is able to be understood.” Events long past are likely well out of our reach, and plenty of neuroscientists express doubt that we could ever fully fathom even our own minds. Yet, there’s two relevant items to consider. The first is, we can never assume that we cannot learn about anything in particular, because that halts inquiry. The second is, it’s pretty astounding what we have learned, and a great deal of this is due to understanding simple properties. But this statement from Hart is a variation of a common religious pout:science thinks it can answer everything!” Ignoring that no one has ever claimed any such thing, we should recognize the hulking, loathsome hypocrisy of this accusation coming from anyone who then pronounces their belief in the ultimate meaning, intentions, or nature of the entire universe and any supernatural realms, especially their own part in it.

[Another aside: there can be no such thing as a “creator of time.” Time is change; without time, there is no change, and thus no creation. Not to mention that no one has presented the least evidence that establishes such a being – but this doesn’t stop them from pronouncing it with the utmost confidence.]

Disregarding that, the only way that Hart has even introduced that an intelligence is to be found is by claiming that the very act of learning can only find intelligence. Or at least, if we look hard enough. This one’s more subtle, but he’s saying that only those who are really smart can find god – it’s inevitable!

That pretty much sums up every bit of theology I have ever found: assertion and self-affirmation. When it is important for someone to justify their belief in any god, this kind of writing serves not just to appease them, but throw in a little ego-stroking as well. Go back up to that part about the mind “mirroring reality,” and thus reality mirroring the mind – this is implying that if we can think about it, then it’s really true (this is a variation of the ontological argument, by the way.) How incredibly self-indulgent is that?

What many people fail to consider, I believe, is that intellectual and intelligent are not interchangeable. Hart throws out bold pronouncements in a seemingly-erudite manner, attempting to give the impression of a seasoned academic, by extension conversant with all facets of knowledge that might apply to this topic – of course he considered the biological and the epistemological angles! Yet he has assigned overblown transcendent properties to the very simple trait of seeking cause-and-effect – something that many other species possess to varying extent, and that we have numerous studies detailing quite extensively – and then uses these abstract properties to extrapolate a universe of intelligence. This isn’t even the common fallacy of equating correlation and causation, and makes the corrupt slippery slope argument seem feeble; Hart is claiming simple emotions point undeniably to something even larger than physical laws – yet undetectable by physical means. One wonders what he could make of jealousy…

If, however, we look for something useful in here – let’s say, a manifestation of this universal intelligence, or a way it can be used, or how this answers the question of the one true religion – we won’t find anything. This is the difference between emotional supplication and functional knowledge, and why theology will remain forever in the back of the class, sending illiterate text messages. Even if we, just for the sake of argument, assume everything Hart has proposed here is accurate, what can we do about it? An ultimately pervasive intelligence, one of pure consciousness, doesn’t really provide anything for us, does it? To be of even personal affirmation use, it would have to have some other property, such as answering prayers, or giving us everlasting life, or somehow being benevolent – not just intelligence, but intent and empathy, at least – none of which Hart has even attempted to support. The huge chasm between most of the sophistry-laden theological arguments and the gods that people want to believe in goes unnoticed, even though it’s pretty much like saying that we can soon travel to other stars because gravity.

The worst thing is, coming up with this kind of shit isn’t even hard:

“Since we are made up of molecules that came from stars, it stands to reason that our souls bear this connection, and thus not only do we have portions of souls from beings long past, stars themselves are the sources, and have souls themselves.”

“Pain is a common factor of life, even among the lower animals – it guides us away from harm and towards more beneficial actions, which can only result in an ultimately painless existence; therefore seeking pain is a path towards freedom from pain.”

“Some of mankind’s greatest emotions come from sports and competition, and we could not have these traits without both intent and purpose; therefore, we must assume that god approves of playing games.”

Seriously, I could do this all day. Infuse a bit of flowery language and a whole shitload of assertions, throw in a touch of ego-stroking, and people will eat it up as sophisticated, transcendent wisdom. I don’t have to be smart, I just have to be smarter than my audience, and spoon-feed them some affirmation. Because they’re not looking for functionality at all.

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