Say it isn’t so!

Courtesy, once again, of Why Evolution Is True, comes another article in the New York Times, this one about a bible-belt pastor that left religion behind. Despite the fact that the author, like many journalists, has only a superficial understanding of what he’s writing about (and suffers from the common delusion that the chronological listing of particulars is something to be destroyed at all costs,) the article still communicates the significant repercussions of announcing one’s lack of faith in an area dominated by christians. Jerry DeWitt, in a rapid turn of events, lost his job, his wife, and all of his friends when he let it be known that he was a secular humanist, and began receiving nasty little messages on his voicemail. This comes as no surprise to anyone the least familiar with reactions to secularism; christians seem to like the title of being good, but the practice is a bridge too far (and already crumbling into ashes.)

More notable, however, are the various comments following that article. There is a distinct dearth of christians recognizing the inherent assholery of their brethren; instead, we have the hackneyed ‘No True Scotsman’ fallacy popping up, which curiously seems to only get pointed out to atheists – the number of times I have seen this wielded against the untrue christians I can count on the fingers of two fingers. And, we get to see the blithe avoidance of the key points of the article, to instead hear someone wax pompously about their own special status as the recipient of god’s touch. Funny, even though they directly say this is god’s doing, they seem to always express this as if it’s the fault of the untouched. This is despite the fact that DeWitt has better “touched” cred than anyone I’ve ever spoken to, as recounted right there in the article.

The writer, perhaps in a sense of balance, does point out that not everyone has been nasty to DeWitt, and I’ll be perfectly fair and say that yes, there is some credit to be given over this. But you tell me: how well does someone being nice to DeWitt stack up against veiled death threats, the loss of his job, his wife leaving him, and his house being foreclosed on? Especially when it was demonstrated in front of a reporter from a major newspaper? Do you get the same impression that I do, of someone who thinks their pleasant ‘public face’ disguises their shitty attitude?

Now, funny, I thought jesus had a few things to say about this all, and that he was one of the prime motivators in christianity, but it seems like that’s only when it’s convenient. I would have thought that someone dropping faith would be considered a challenge, a signal to really pour on the positive aspects and, if nothing else, the charm – not a cue to become a petulant brat. Even the lamest of corporations, faced with drooping sales, isn’t stupid enough to insult and ostracize their customers, but looks instead for ways to improve their product, or at least put on the pretense of such.

Interestingly, the primary message, and indeed the direct advice given by another pastor and echoed by the writer, is, “keep your mouth shut.” Yeah, the whole thing’s fucked up, but just lie, to everyone else as well as yourself, because it’s easier that way. Which is a rather damning commentary on the childishness and mob mentality of our society anymore, and the coward’s way out. “For god’s sake, don’t even try changing those assholes for the better! Leave that to the… oh, yeah. That was supposed to be our whole purpose as christians, wasn’t it?”

But that really isn’t the purpose, as has been demonstrated countless times over the centuries. The purpose is only to wield a specialized status, to bear a title that requires no accomplishment and no responsibility, but allows one to dictate to others at will without having to demonstrate any real value from it. You will notice that the pastor himself, tasked with guiding others towards proper behavior, instead just makes excuses for them.

The ones who are spewing the nasty messages and making all the effort to ostracize that horrible atheist aren’t really doing anything good, are they? Most of it is undoubtedly just insecurity, and likely a little resentment from seeing someone leave the club. Some of it is probably fostered by the constant demonizing of atheism and secularism, even admitted within the article when it is pointed out that some believe DeWitt is a satanist (wonder where they got that idea?) Regardless, none of it is even remotely related to positive action, and few of those engaged in such seem to have any inkling whatsoever of this. If there is one message that christianity is supposed to promote, it’s, “be good.” So just how pathetic is it that it cannot even get this straight? No, there only seems to be the belief that if you don a little cross, you have magically pronounced your behavior to be acceptable. The omniscient god they like to blather about seems remarkably easy to fool.

Now comes a little perspective. Since the argument that outspoken atheists are being mean is a ridiculously common one, I feel obligated to point out the hypocrisy here. But more importantly, I want to show some important distinctions. I have nothing against being mean, actually – I’m all for it, provided it’s applied in a useful manner. Our societies are built upon the input of everyone, and what they consider acceptable or not. Being mean is a way of announcing the level of disagreement you have with a particular standpoint. I’m sure that my beating the shit out of a child rapist is unlikely to garner much negativity, despite how mean it really is.

However, the perspective and circumstances, the reasoning behind, are crucial. Yes, I’m mean towards the excesses of religion, and even the idea behind it – they demonstrate both a class consciousness and privilege that promotes no advance to society or behavior, and an idea that is remarkably lame and superstitious in itself. Not only do I find it necessary to demonstrate that critical thought is lacking, the message must also fight against the propensity of humans to follow one another around like unthinking sheep. A truly ridiculous number of things in our culture revolve around the idea that religion=good, despite the constant barrage of evidence that this equation fails more often than it succeeds. I post about these subjects specifically to highlight how often people cannot see the obvious.

This is different, radically so, from being mean in order to maintain one’s own privileged position, or because someone is insecure and incapable of improving themselves. Our society, and in fact all interactions among every cooperative species, revolves around others; our status and our survival depend on them. This even extends to what religion hopes to accomplish (or professes to attempting anyway.) Yet, there is a remarkable tendency to believe that, in the process of disrespecting others, the religious should be receiving respect back from them. Or, failing that, then the hopes that their numbers hold out so the in-group of religious folk can still maintain an advantage through might.

This has nothing to do with ‘good.’ And it’s not like being good requires some special guidance, training, or insight anyway. It’s about as uncomplicated as any decision we could ever make.

In fact secular humanism, which is the label that DeWitt applied to himself that triggered this entire mudslide, is a standpoint that specifically applies itself to doing good, to building a stronger society. That’s exactly what so many christians claim to be after themselves, isn’t it? Ah, but the rub is that it does so by dumping the reliance on privilege and labels, and completely trashes the concept that any holy book automatically counts as good. The only people who have anything to fear are the ones who lose all of the status provided by such privilege, and have no good deeds to display in its place.

Awful goddamn lot of them, isn’t there?

I’m tasty


I just had to upload this one, partially to break up two posts that are far too similar. But this is me doing my “Snow White” thing while setting up some shots the other day. A butterfly (I can’t be bothered to determine the species) alighted on my left bicep and stayed there for no small amount of time, tapping its way down my arm with its proboscis. While I suspect it was only in search of the salt from my sweat, there’s always the possibility that it was an alien butterfly and I was being probed. Come to think of it, I can’t remember everything I did that day. I probably should check for implants…

Given the proximity and the length of the macro lens, I couldn’t actually take this with the camera held to my eye, since the butterfly was too close. Instead, I tried for the likely most accurate settings and shot blind, aimed crossways with my right hand. I have a lot of frames that were misses, but considering the short depth of field of macro work, this actually ain’t too bad.

This also demonstrates one of the traits you often have to work around with macro. This was taken in bright sunlight with a normal background, but at 1/200 second, f22, ISO 100. Those settings were necessary to stop any camera shake, induce the highest depth of field, and maintain the best quality respectively, but the strobe was also set for the short working distance. The settings let in too little ambient light to register the background at all, so the only illumination is from the strobe. Had it been powerful enough to illuminate the background, the butterfly would have been burned out to pure white. This is where a second strobe, or even a studio light, comes in, but that takes no small amount of arranging itself.

I actually leaned closer to the shamrock plants on the porch for a nicer background, but never got framing nailed before my friend decided the shamrock flowers looked tastier than my arm…

Too smart to be intelligent

You know, I try to let philosophy prove its worth to me. I constantly recognize that, if so many people believe it’s useful, that maybe I’m the one that’s missing something. I don’t dismiss the contemporary philosophers without hearing what they have to say. Yet every time, this proves to be almost totally wasted effort. This latest example has demonstrated that philosophy relies on terms and ideas that really aren’t comprehended at all.

Richard Polt, who probably gets paid quite a lot for this, offered his take on a concept called reductionism in an opinion piece for the New York Times, Anything But Human. Reductionism, at least as applied in this circumstance, is the idea that humans are no more complex than the cells that make up our bodies, and if we understand the cells and their relations to each other, we understand how our minds work. The opposite idea of this is dualism (if you prefer, Cartesian Dualism,) which proposes that the mind is a separate function – consciousness, soul, transcendence, whatever – something more than just the cell interactions of the physical body. I need to keep something clear right from the start: philosophers are not biologists, so they’re not beholden to demonstrate just where or how dualism might arise; their only ‘duty’ (if they even promote the idea, which many don’t) is to show that there seems to be some difference.

Unfortunately, Polt falls down on three separate levels. The first is, he never bothers to try and understand the biological processes that govern our thinking processes, he simply assumes there isn’t any. Second, he does not take the time to fathom the numerous concepts, like ‘virtue’ and ‘altruism,’ that he throws around casually. But third and unforgivably, he resorts to some crass and juvenile mangling of concepts like ‘information’ and even ‘analogy’ to try and besmirch the argument he opposes. A little tip for someone who really should know better and cannot apparently be bothered to refer to a dictionary for words with which he’s unfamiliar: “Analogous” means, “like,” or “similar.” It does not mean, “perfect match,” or “equal to.”

Let’s tear into his points, because hidden within are some really interesting and valid avenues of examination. On a section regarding behavior and evolutionary selection (within, he’s quoting E.O. Wilson from a separate article):

Selection also operates between individuals: “within groups selfish individuals beat altruistic individuals, but groups of altruists beat groups of selfish individuals. Or, risking oversimplification, individual selection promoted sin, while group selection promoted virtue.” Wilson is cautious here, but some “evolutionary ethicists” don’t hesitate to claim that all we need in order to understand human virtue is the right explanation — whatever it may be — of how altruistic behavior evolved.

This isn’t exactly true, and it’s not clear whether Polt simply doesn’t understand why these are examined or thought his argument sounded better this way. The goal is to try and determine how altruism evolved, since by its very nature it puts the organism (e.g, human predecessor) at risk. How does one pass on a genetic tendency to get oneself killed? But virtue is perfectly understood by biologists, since overall it’s beneficial to a cooperative, social species. No mystery here. There is research into how exactly this develops in the brain, and whether or not this can fail and result in things like psychopathy; there is even, I believe, research into how group dynamics evolved, separating cooperative species like wolves from individualistic ones like snakes. But understanding the usefulness of ‘virtue’ in the species that possess it isn’t any mystery.

I have no beef with entomology or evolution, but I refuse to admit that they teach me much about ethics. Consider the fact that human action ranges to the extremes. People can perform extraordinary acts of altruism, including kindness toward other species — or they can utterly fail to be altruistic, even toward their own children. So whatever tendencies we may have inherited leave ample room for variation; our choices will determine which end of the spectrum we approach. This is where ethical discourse comes in — not in explaining how we’re “built,” but in deliberating on our own future acts.

The problem with this is, many of the decisions that we make are not conscious, deliberate acts, but reactions, emotional and/or subconscious. There is a basic reward-and-punishment system internally, what we typically call ’emotions,’ that help guide us towards what we consider the best course of action. Philosophical pondering of, for instance, a selfish act will lead nowhere until one understands why someone acts that way – and even that they virtually never consider it selfish, but perhaps self-protective instead. Self-preservation, and even fairness, are almost certainly evolved traits; one keeps you alive, and the other lets you function much better in a group. Group beats individual in any competition, right? Is this so hard?

On occasion, a ‘selfish’ act not only doesn’t harm a group, it may actually help strengthen it. If I’m good at wielding flint weapons, I may guard them possessively and not give them away, which is better for my tribe because they remain in the possession of the one who uses them more efficiently. Contrived, perhaps, but it’s a simple demonstration of how applying labels like ‘selfish’ cannot be done superficially. The concepts that we casually refer to have to be defined very distinctly when using them in biological or scientific manners. You cannot apply philosophical abstracts to biological functions any more than you can apply them to auto mechanics.

Most, though not all, moral codes advise me to cultivate altruism. But since the human race has evolved to be capable of a wide range of both selfish and altruistic behavior, there is no reason to say that altruism is superior to selfishness in any biological sense.

This is simply being fatuous. Because humans do not demonstrate altruism constantly, then it has no use? Seriously?

How much thought does it take to realize that a wholly altruistic society, like a wholly peaceful nation, is easy pickings for anyone that is not? The balance of cooperation and protection (or self-preservation) is an important one – not to mention that cooperation is in many cases an aspect of protection. Again, dealing with superficial terms prevents the understanding of the functions underlying it all.

Important lesson here. Do not define the concept by the word. Always remember what the word is intended to mean. For instance, in biological terms ‘altruism’ is the urge or tendency to put oneself at risk for the benefit of another – which is why the whole group/kin selection thing above comes up, since it provides useful function only on those levels, not on an individual one. ‘Selfish,’ however, is barely a biological term, since it is more of a value judgment from others than a specific function in an organism. Someone may say I’m selfish to demand more pay for a task, while I may believe my skills deserve that higher rate. There’s no right answer in such cases, but biologically, what comes into play is my own self-preservation and/or sense of fairness. However, if I begin to feel selfish myself for demanding that pay, then I have an internal influence towards not fighting for it, or negotiating more cooperatively. What triggers such feelings of guilt, however? Can this be studied biologically? Of course it can, and with ten times (at least) more functionality than philosophers arguing about it.

In fact, the very idea of an “ought” is foreign to evolutionary theory. It makes no sense for a biologist to say that some particular animal should be more cooperative, much less to claim that an entire species ought to aim for some degree of altruism.

Well, it’s a good thing I’ve never seen any biologist dumb enough to say any such thing, then. That’s two smacks in the arm for using a straw man. However, since we obviously possess altruism, at least to a certain degree, then it must have come from somewhere, and that’s what biologists try to puzzle out. You’d think a philosopher wouldn’t be so goddamn clueless about a discipline he’s trying to comment upon.

If we decide that we should neither “dissolve society” through extreme selfishness, as Wilson puts it, nor become “angelic robots” like ants, we are making an ethical judgment, not a biological one.

No shit. Seriously, does this chucklehead think biology has anything to do with dictating social structure? We have an interest in justice, fairness, altruism, and social structure because of our biological makeup – and yes, it is inexact and imperfect; nobody ever said otherwise. It is those imperfections that we wish to address with social structure, and ethical considerations and laws and all that; we realize we aren’t ideal, but want to be. What biology helps us to do is understand both the imperfections and the desire. I will draw an analogy since I suspect my readers can handle these better than Polt; the x-ray does not knit the broken bone, but it tells the doctor what she needs to know to set it. The biological understanding of our motivations and reactions helps us to understand what to do, consciously, to improve.

Curiously, it may even tell us that the improvements we seek aren’t really improvements at all, instead hampering us in other areas.

I prefer to conclude that ants are anything but human. They may feel pain and pleasure, which are the first glimmerings of purpose, but they’re nowhere near human (much less angelic) goodness. Whether we’re talking about ants, wolves, or naked mole rats, cooperative animal behavior is not human virtue. Any understanding of human good and evil has to deal with phenomena that biology ignores or tries to explain away — such as decency, self-respect, integrity, honor, loyalty or justice.

First off, I’ve never seen anyone remotely related to any biological field attempt to explain these away. That’s two more – Polt’s arm should be feeling pretty sore by now, but not half as bad as his conscience for this claptrap.

However, this is where the distinction I made initially between biologists and philosophers comes into play. Biologists, as part of the hard sciences that require decent explanations and evidence, actually have to explain the source of the dualism Polt is now trying to pass off here. Which is largely why they do not, because no such evidence exists. And we also return to the idea of defining our words.

What is ‘virtue?’ Define it without resorting to any other abstract term such as ‘good.’ Did you come up with something along the lines of, “Referring to actions or attitudes that are beneficial to others, or regarded highly in society”? Yeah, that’s really no different from the ant that helps raise the pupae, is it? Especially since, in order to be regarded highly in society, you still have to fit the first bit about benefit (unless you’re sexy, but that’s another biological drive entirely, and still fits under benefit when it results in healthy offspring.) In fact, every term that he throws out up there results in group benefit. Don’t use words without comprehending them, dude. We made these words up to explain the feelings that we have internally.

Now it’s time to really kick some dishonest ass:

Next they tell me that my brain and the ant’s brain are just wet computers.”Evolution equipped us … with a neural computer,” as Steven Pinker put it in “How the Mind Works.” “Human thought and behavior, no matter how subtle and flexible, could be the product of a very complicated program.”

and,

So are you and I essentially no different from the machines on which I’m writing this essay and you may be reading it?

Well, if by “essentially no different” you mean “radically different, relying on completely different methods of information storage and retrieval, and adapting to constant new input, and capable of internally monitoring benefit and detriment with functions to encourage the former and discourage the latter,” but I suspect most people do not define “essentially no different” that way, and I’m pretty certain Polt knows this, which is why I’m going to call him out on playing stupid fucking games at this point.

As I’m sure he knows if he actually read the book he’s quoting, the brain is made up of neurons with exceptionally simple functions, trading electrochemical microcharges in a network of connections. When I say, “sexy,” you think of whatever particular set of gender traits that appeal to you, that spark an interest in procreating (or at least going through the motions.) Those are connections, not only specific to your individual experiences, but influenced by your glands and the positive/negative feedback functions that helped create the connections in that manner – most people cheat and use the word “emotions” here. A very large percentage of what we consider “sexy” are traits that lead to healthier offspring, such as apparent health (clear skin, well-developed physical structure, etc.), waist-to-hip ratios for problem-free child-bearing, and even the factor of out-competing other spousal choices. These are evidence of internal structures that guide us towards survival. Dualists seem to want to believe that such biases in thinking come from someplace else, magically I suppose, without trying to recognize that these are no different from the bear that fattens up for winter. Moreover, it is frighteningly easy to alter our responses to such stimuli with, for instance, a big rock across the frontal lobes. We can get confused with too little sleep, and irritable when we’re feeling pain – of course this is all physical. The idea of dualism is the one that’s completely unsupported. But in order to realize this, we have to understand what, for instance, “happy” is, and not assign it some kind of special elevation above the very simple internal positive reinforcement that explains it in a perfectly functional and adequate way.

Today’s “artificial intelligence” is cleverly designed, but it’s no closer to real intelligence than the letter-writing automatons of the 18th century. None of these devices can think, because none of them can care; as far as we know there is no program, no matter how complicated, that can make the world matter to a machine.

Again, Polt seems to believe that philosophical pondering rates higher than the biological functions that we can demonstrate in very interesting ways, like a mild electrical current applied to specific centers of the brain that triggers certain feelings (thus demonstrating that emotions are indeed physically based.) In order to make the ‘world’ matter to a machine, all we have to do it generate a positive feedback function. There has been no reason to do this, because we design machines not to think, but to perform very specific tasks for us – there is no choice involved, so nothing is necessary to help promote any particular choice as better. However, it is childishly easy to tell one to pick the shortest route among many, which is a form of positive feedback. The key here is not that we need to have machines that feel emotions, but in understanding that emotions provoke successful outcomes from us. It is the end result, not the process, that matters, and when the computer program picks the shortest route, it has done so much more efficiently than we do when we apply our feelings over wasted resources or desiring more time at our destination.

One of the key differences between the machines we know now and a living organism is that, for life, the biological imperative must rule all other functions – life must survive, first and foremost. Survival can get complicated in world full of variables, so the imperative must include things like sexual attraction and selection, cooperative/tribal interactions and motivations, distinction of proper nutrition from dangerous substances, and the avoidance of damage. Is there any emotion that you feel that does not fit into one of these categories? I’m typing fast (well, for me) and not creating a definitive list, so perhaps you can come up with something. When if you do, see if it has to do with your survival.

You see, I might be impressed if philosophers tackled the concept of “fun,” most especially the kind that gives us thrills over dangerous actions, but then again, I have some suspicion that we engage in these for the release from tension, a kind of natural drug high that we produce. Or perhaps if they wondered about our drive to explore, solve puzzles, and such like that – yet I’m fairly certain that the rewards over finding better places to live, and over recognizing patterns and causes, are pretty damn good survival traits in themselves. But something as simple as caring? Please, dude, think for five seconds.

The temptation to reduce the human to the subhuman has been around for a long time.

Wrong way around. The temptation to elevate humans beyond the confines of basic physics has been around a long time, with absolutely no reason to ever believe in it. The assumption that some old concept has value simply because it’s old is one that far too many people fall for.

Curious to know why we elevate ourselves above the ‘merely physical,’ and higher than other animals? Because we compete with others of our species for breeding opportunities and resource access, so we have a drive to perform better, automatically. Ego is a function of competition. That such urges cannot differentiate between useful competition and pointless hubris is simply evidence that evolution produces functionality, not specific design. And is still ongoing – maybe in a few millennia we’ll have bred out the useless bits.

Aristotle resisted reductionism, too: in his “Politics,” he wrote that bees aren’t political in the human sense, because they can’t discuss what is good and just. People are constantly arguing about what would benefit their country most, or which arrangement is fairest, but bees don’t start Occupy the Hive movements or call for a flat tax on pollen. Certainly other animals have complex social arrangements; but they can’t envision alternative arrangements, consider them with at least the aspiration to impartiality, and provide reasons on their behalf.

They don’t waste time arguing over concepts that they have never bothered to fully define or comprehend, like reductionism and dualism, either. As a consequence, every last bee contributes more to the hive than this pile of philosophical meandering. While thinking is pretty cool, and our ability to envision abstract ideas has led to a huge distinction between humans and every other animal, this does not mean this is good. Good, biologically, is survival. When we can argue over whether we should protect our resources or limit our populations, we are not demonstrating that we’re a species that can survive the long run. Don’t get too fired up over your abstract concepts there, Polt.

So why have we been tempted for millenniums to explain humanity away?

This is crass manipulation, purposefully choosing words to try and evoke an emotional response to something that simply is not present. Nobody’s explaining humanity away. They’re pointing out that we have been mistaken in our impressions about what it is. We still have the same traits, functions, and goals. What anyone is doing when they question the concept of dualism is eradicating self deception. Doesn’t that sound a lot more positive? Yeah, thought so.

The culprit, I suggest, is our tendency to forget what Edmund Husserl called the “lifeworld” — the pre-scientific world of normal human experience, where science has its roots. In the lifeworld we are surrounded by valuable opportunities, good and bad choices, meaningful goals, and possibilities that we care about.

Yep, still have them with reductionism too. We just understand why now.

Never, ever trust anyone that bothers throwing out jargon to try and make their point. It almost always means they’re more intent on trying to impress you with how learnéd they are. It’s that ‘ego’ thing at work again. See what the biological explanation can provide? Is that what Polt means by a “meaningful goal”?

For instance, one factor that makes the computer-brain analogy seem so plausible is the ubiquitous talk of “information.” The word is often thrown around with total disregard for its roots in the lifeworld — specifically, the world of mid-20th-century communications. The seminal work in information theory is Claude Shannon’s 1948 paper “A Mathematical Theory of Communication,” which is mainly about the efficiency with which a certain sequence (say, a set of dots and dashes) can be transmitted and reproduced. There is no reference here to truth, awareness or understanding.

There is no reference here to butter pecan waffles, either. How fucking worthless is that?

What’s that you say? We weren’t discussing waffles? Silly me, I’ll try to stay on topic and not go off on wild unrelated tangents.

Why should we assume that thinking and perceiving are essentially information processing?

Because they are? What the hell else would you call them? But no, I’ll be fair, because there’s one extra little bit, which really is crucial, and that is, the weight/importance that any individual gives to the information during processing. This is also included within those connections that we make in our neurons; “pizza” is not simply “food,” but perhaps also, “tastes good” or “gives me gas.” Such connections are based on past experiences, or maybe in the manner in which we receive the info (screamed at us as we’re about to stick a fork in an electrical outlet, for example.) While computers rely on binary signals, this was simply because that was the way we found to make electrical gates perform complicated functions, and this is the reason why mathematics underlies all electronic information processing. The information that human brains process, provided through our input devices (our senses) and occasionally through trying new connections (thinking,) is transmitted differently but no less ‘information’ because of that.

None of this is especially hard to fathom, but what it takes is the honest effort to understand it in the first place, rather than disliking the entire idea and simply finding ways to argue against it. Because Polt does not understand biology when filtered through his lens of philosophy, he therefore assumes that it isn’t producing any answers. It is more than a bit presumptuous to judge a discipline while not bothering to comprehend it.

Most especially, however, not everything that someone came up with years ago is actually useful. Philosophy suffers from the idea that it is the highest level of cognitive function, and this is amply demonstrated every time some philosopher waxes enthusiastically about the human condition or some wondrous abstract. Yet, without the checks and balances of supporting evidence, without the process of demonstrating its accuracy, philosophy consists of only feeding ego in a vain (and vain) attempt to self-validate. Countless concepts held in high esteem for centuries have either been shown to be wildly misinterpreted (see “lifeworld” above) or completely without application (see damn near every first-year philosophical argument like Plato’s Cave, Zeno’s Paradox, and the Chinese Box.)

Always be ready to challenge assumptions, most especially your own. That’s the value of critical thinking, which is why I’ll stack it up against philosophy any day.

*     *     *     *     *

I wanted to highlight something that bears examining. I wrote above about influences “…that spark an interest in procreating (or at least going through the motions.)” The implication here is that we may engage in sex, not necessarily to produce babies, but to produce pleasurable sensations. And jungle noises.

This, all by itself, demonstrates the biological nature of our functions. The sex drive, and the orgasm, are a hell of a lot stronger than the desire to reproduce – so much so, in fact, that we have to exert the cognitive portions of our brains, the dualistic portion according to Polt, to counteract the biological imperative. This causes countless problems socially, most especially in the radical ways in which we rationalize our desires, and these probably make up half of those ethical cogitations he espouses.

I also want to point out that any designer of humans could have made the sex drive completely inert until after marriage, if it was so damn important to him.

Odd memories, part seven

So, today’s xkcd comments on hypochondria:
a_hypochrondiacs_nightmare

This stirred some memories of an age, long ago, when I would meet with several friends for a curious pastime. Bear with me a moment as I explain.

It all started with a humorous story taken from the early days of Usenet, about a poker game played by personifications of universal, um, properties? Absolutes? Whatever. Anyway, we happened to like the idea of characters ruled by their nature. Now, during this period we also engaged in an activity usually described as “story game,” which was born from exercises often assigned within college writing courses. Essentially, start a short story with a descriptive title and a first paragraph. Then, fold over the title so it cannot be seen and pass this along to the next person in line, who reads the first paragraph and then adds one of their own to continue the story. This person then conceals your original paragraph, so only theirs is showing, and sends this along to the following person. With only one paragraph to work from, each writer usually ends up inferring a lot. Eventually, it comes back to you, requiring you to decipher just what the bloody hell happened to your original premise, and to try and salvage it if you can. Played in a circle among several creative people, each having started their own story, it can be hilarious. And from time to time, when some of us get together again, it gets raised from the dead.

So, we tried a few rounds with Good, Evil, Order, Chaos, Truth, and the Void. One friend made Chaos his own and nurtured him (Chaos just seems right as a male) into a scene-stealer, like Serge from Beverly Hills Cop, while Void turned out to be very difficult to incorporate. In our very first attempt, one friend wrote the exchange that will remain in my head forever. The six personifications are riding in an elevator when it breaks down abruptly between floors. Order removes an address book from his pocket and says, “I have here the names and numbers of all of our appointments, so we can contact them and explain that we are going to be delayed.” Chaos immediately leaps across the elevator, grabbing the address book and eating it. Order, completely unperturbed, takes out a backup book and says, “Luckily, I have another.”

What does this have to do with the xkcd comic? Be still, I’m getting to that.

So then, we decided to branch out with different personifications, such as Hopeless Romance, Depression, and Blatantly Wrong. Another variation that we added was of random events, such as ‘getting a flat tire’ or the classic, ‘a team from Star Trek beams into the room.’ We would write several of these down on pieces of paper and put them into a hat, along with numerous personifications into another hat, then draw randomly for each round and have to write our story segments around those. With four of us, that meant every story would have (at least) four characters and four events in each, occasionally including the original storyline.

So, one particular round, I drew the event of ‘a character is struck by a meteorite, perhaps fatally,’ and the character of ‘Paranoia.’ Now do you see where the connection came in? I was smiling gleefully to myself as I incorporated what I considered the best combination of event and character that I’d ever seen, and I vividly recall writing that this was perhaps the one demise Paranoia had never predicted. But it gets better.

My turn came last in the reading roundup, but you can imagine my delight when the second story from the others featured (pause for vain dramatic effect) Paranoia getting struck by a meteorite. Yes, we put the characters and events back into the hats after each draw. I looked forward to introducing the exact same event in my own story when my turn came.

When the third story also had Paranoia getting struck by a meteorite, I was reduced to a basket case, laughing uncontrollably on the floor because I alone knew that it was coming yet again. I also knew I’d have to read my own story out loud, which made it even worse. The others were somewhat mystified that this coincidence had struck me so distinctly, but my turn was coming. And you have to admit, you cannot write a bad story about a character getting struck by a meteorite. You just can’t.

By the way, one of the stories from the subsequent session was about Paranoia’s funeral. If you think about it, you may realize that Paranoia cannot die, but even worse, Chaos was attending…

Animal ethics

This one’s been kicking around in my head for a while now, so I finally sat down to order some of the thoughts – put my ducklings in a row, so to speak. For the sake of easier writing, I will be using the term “animal” to simply mean “not human,” even though I am well aware that humans are animals too.

Animal rights, and the ethical treatment of animals, is obviously a subject of enormous contention. Underlying it are a significant number of assumptions that bear examining, if only just to help us understand not only why we personally feel the way we do, but why others may disagree.

Let’s start with the established idea that empathy is a social trait that provokes the cooperation of Homo sapiens amongst ourselves, making us one of many species that works better as a collective than as individuals. We can put ourselves into another’s shoes, feeling their pain and frustrations and identifying with them, because of an internal drive that rewards such – which does sometimes fail. But without it, we would have far more individuality, more competitiveness, and virtually no reason to have friends, neighborhoods, villages, and so on. Some species really are this way – most reptiles, for instance, and quite a few species of insects. I’ll tackle some of the more interesting aspects of the competitiveness that we do have in another post.

Coupled with this, we have the drive to take care of, coddle, and protect infants – I hope the reasons for this are obvious. Again, without it our species would die out rather quickly. We can see the myriad ways that species cope with fetal development in something as simple as an eggshell or a secluded nest, sequestering the vulnerable developing offspring until a time when they can fend for themselves better, and in the protectiveness of mother bears; some fish species even hold their fry within their mouths in times of danger (I am obliged to wonder whether the insides surfaces of their gills are as covered with little stickers as the back windows of many cars that I see.) Humans develop very slowly in comparison to other species, so the drive to nurture must be strong and long-lasting – it won’t work if it only provokes a casual effort in child-rearing.

What becomes interesting is how unspecific this really is. We identify with many other species as well, unwilling to cause them pain or discomfort, and we can get ridiculously soppy over the infants of species that not only have nothing to do with us, but the adults are the very critters that we had to avoid throughout the vast majority of our history. Lion and bear cubs are still cute, and even when a species doesn’t pose a direct threat (or much of a benefit for that matter,) we can still fixate on traits that trigger certain unconscious feelings – think kittens and fluffy bunnies.

There is virtually no point to such feelings at all. We are, to anyone not hopelessly blinded by the above influences, undeniably omnivorous. Our teeth and digestive systems are not what vegetarians should have, and our development requires far more protein and a more-rounded mineral content than plants could provide until the establishment of large-scale agriculture and transportation. Any vegan that wants to argue is invited to exist in latitudes above 45° for the winter months without a market. But what it means is that we, like many other species on the planet, have to rely on animals for food. There is nothing unnatural about the bear eating the salmon, or the snake eating the duckling. And at least half of the people reading that last sentence had entirely different feelings about the two scenarios – now ask why. And there remains nothing unnatural about humans eating cows or deer or any other animal.

But then, it’s easy to raise the question of “Should we?”, and there’s nothing that dictates that we have to follow the evolutionary path that we took to our current point, either – evolution is a process that weeds out some flaws, but slowly, and it works only with what it has. We have, for instance, used cultural pressures to change our attitudes about sex, social status, good spousal traits, and so on – part (most) of the benefit of our wonderfully abstract thinking processes is the ability to direct ourselves into better behavior rather than waiting for nature to do it. So taking steps to promote animal rights isn’t going against nature’s design, per se – but it cannot be argued to be following it, either. The foremost impetus within any such pursuits, quite simply, is how they make us feel.

There’s a trap in that kind of thinking. What we feel isn’t really a guideline on what is right, as only a moment’s thought will show (try bigotry if you need an example.) Extensive efforts to eradicate feedlot cattle because someone doesn’t like how it makes them feel is a poor rationale – actually not a rationale at all, but a kneejerk reaction to internal drives. It would be easy if everyone felt the same way, but clearly, not everyone does. The empathic feelings we have towards other animals – or only some other animals, as I hinted at above – is most likely the unspecific survival trait to help only Homo sapiens survive, which is too sloppy to prevent other species from getting swept into it. So, what direction should our abstract brains take us: towards more animal rights, or more efficiency to help us survive? Or somewhere else entirely?

The interesting thing is, we can’t really rule out the emotions even if we tried, and it may not be a good idea either. Sheer unemotional rationality (aside from scaring people) is extremely hard to implement, since it is emotions that guide us towards decisions anyway – but at the same time, strictly emotional reactions can lead us in ridiculous directions. Some balance is needed.

The vegan that considers all meat-eaters to be evil, corrupt, or simply selfish is not really accomplishing anything; their arguments are solely emotional, and in fact what they’re communicating is that their own emotions are important, while those of the people they disagree with are inconsequential. Moreover, in many cases their concern doesn’t have anything to do with their diet being more beneficial to humans, but only that animals are not suffering for human benefit. Is this noble? Well, that’s a decision that is solely our own; no other species on the planet bears such a concern, or hesitates to obtain food in whatever manner is necessary. In fact, it is probably safe to say that such attitudes originated only recently in our own species, and only in cultures that had progressed past the point that starvation was a real and imminent threat.

So if suffering is the concern, what about simply preventing the suffering? Are organizations like PETA spending way too much time trying to convince everyone to become vegetarian (usually in crass and condescending ways,) rather than pushing to improve livestock conditions? How many animal rights groups alienate more people than they reach by encouraging extremism and ignoring functional improvements? I ask this, by the way, as a naturalist, conservationist, former wildlife rehabilitator, and someone who spent over a decade in humane organizations – I feel obligated to point that out because there’s a great deal of “black or white,” “Hatfield or McCoy” thinking when it comes to these topics.

Closely related is the topic of animal captivity – zoos, petting farms, and so on. There are those that argue that all animals should be wild and free, away from the shackles of captivity and living carefree existences without human interference. While not an invalid argument, it is often based on the idea that either animals don’t actually face myriad threats to their existence on a constant basis in the wild, or that they view ‘captivity’ in the same way that humans do. Pay attention whenever you encounter either this topic, or the one above, and see how quickly the word “exploit” comes up. It’s a nice word for such purposes, since it has negative connotations, but how much can an animal be said to be exploited? Even when we kill a cow for food, how does this differ from a wild existence? Does the coyote exploit the chicken? If we raise a panda in captivity, showered with veterinary care, proper diet, and controlled living conditions, is this somehow putting it at a disadvantage? “Exploit” is a human word, intended to stir our emotional reactions to lack of justice or choice; ironically, we are exploited by the very use of the word ;-)

Animals in the wild usually live only one-half to one-tenth as long as they have demonstrated in captivity. Death in a ‘natural’ setting comes from countless untreated illnesses and injuries, very frequently assisted by opportunistic predators, and occasionally by the actions of other members of the same social unit – many species chase off weaker members of the pack/group to reduce the detriment that they might bring. When we eat a pig, we do not hamstring it or drag it down with multiple jaws latched onto its throat, and we do not aim for the young or the feeble. Nor does the pig spend any part of its time running from danger, much less every day of its existence. They’re fed quite well, and never have to forage or go hungry. If we’re going to argue ethics, we at the very least need to do so from the standpoint of realism, rather than some naïve impression of what typical conditions are.

I’ve heard, countless times, the arguments that zoos are prisons for the animals, catering to ignorant gawkers. Again, this seems to be very often a case of applying human ideas where they cannot be supported. The effectiveness of a prison, for instance, is not in the conditions as such, but in the idea of it, the selective isolation and deprivation for those humans who demonstrated their anti-social aspects. It’s safe to say that no animal has the faintest understanding of this, and only those who had some significant existence in the wild even have anything to compare against (very few zoos, at least in progressive countries, will even accept wild-caught animals anymore.) As an exercise, think of the children playing on abandoned tanks in war-torn countries. We’re horrified by it, or see some form of irony in it at least, but they have nothing to compare it against. Think also of your own childhood, growing up without your own personal swimming pool or polo pony; were you deprived, or constantly unhappy? No, we’re only unhappy when we feel we’re not receiving what we should, some minimal standard dictated by our cultures. Animals, in general, are unhappy when they’re ill or threatened, and even the stress from threat is a transient state, unable to be maintained – when no danger materializes, virtually every species we might keep captive will relax. Even sexual frustration, which some might bring up, is a highly dubious anthropocentric argument, since most species are not sexually active year-round like humans, and many respond only to specific triggers such as estrous displays – without these, there is no sexual desire. And let’s not ignore the number of animals in the wild who fail to win the sexual competitions anyway, and may even suffer injuries in the process of losing.

Let’s shift tack here a little, and look at the overall aspects. Are zoos and such really accomplishing anything? Well, that depends on the individual structures in each, so generic questions (or presumed answers) of this sort are pointless. But many take the opportunity to not only provide numerous educational functions, they also promote conservation, awareness, research, and endangered species programs. And they work because a very large number of people have a distinct interest in animals. The activist who denigrates zoos is often, in essence, blaming others for having the exact same emotional attachment to animals that they do. The irony is rife in this topic, isn’t it? And I have to add that not one activist that I’ve spoken to or heard from had even the faintest idea how to generate the amount of support for, and education about, wildlife that zoos produce. Some may argue that televised nature programs can fit this bill, but these haven’t supplanted zoo attendance, any more than travel programs have sated people’s desire to travel. On the contrary, nature programs may show a close parallel to travel programs, in that they are at times directly responsible for zoo visitation: “Hey, our zoo has coatimundis! Do you want to see real ones next weekend?”

I cannot leave out animal testing, of course. But again, this topic is far too broad to paint with one brush, which doesn’t stop many people from trying anyway. The questions that reside within are countless, but the most important one perhaps is: how do humans stack up against other species? In terms of medical and safety research, which makes up the vast majority (if not the entirety) of animal testing, the usage of animals is to determine the likelihood of adverse affects to humans. Without such testing, we would see a greatly increased number of illnesses and deaths from reactions that we do not possess the ability to predict or detect (I’m well aware that many animal rights activists believe that we can accomplish the same tests without animals, but this belief is not grounded in reality.) I would like to think I’m safe in saying that humans dying are not any more acceptable than animals, but the truth is, the pure emotional reactions sometimes bring this into question. I was in a theater watching “The Road Warrior” and had witnessed several instances of violent death, a bloated corpse, torture, and a rape, but a disturbing number of the audience went “Awwwww!” when a rabbit was shot with a crossbow. Animals, especially cute animals, are innocent – but that’s both baseless and meaningless. It’s these impressions that we probably should be aware of falling for, because they’re examples of where the emotions take over and leave the thinking far behind. If there’s anything that we can argue is of paramount importance, either rationally, emotionally, or simply through natural selection, it’s the preservation of our own species. Does that seem selfish or elitist? If so, why?

So, how many animals are allowable to die to save one human from severe illness or death? Does it matter what kind of animal? Is there some altruistic benefit to sacrificing ourselves to prevent animal testing? Because it starts, very quickly, to look like activists are far more concerned about animals than people, and I admit that such a thing disturbs me far more than any animal testing procedure.

No, let’s be serious. I’m pretty comfortable with the belief that most activists really aren’t promoting the idea that people should die to save animals – despite many misgivings, I am willing to extend that much credit to mankind. The majority of the problem is likely due to activists never having considered the implications in the first place, remaining blissfully unaware of the consequences while indulging in some rather juvenile emotional appeasement. Animals are cute, so anyone that harms them is a big meanie. There is a reason I push critical thinking so frequently, and it’s because we can really do without so much effort being provoked by such indulgent emotional goads as this.

Let me ask another question, in a dirty and manipulative way: How many animals equal one human baby? Is it okay for a baby to die to save ten rabbits? You know this is different, but why? The purely emotional response doesn’t offer much guidance.

One of the other problems with emotional responses is that they don’t encourage considerations or compromise. “Stop animal testing” or “Go vegan” are slogans that express a gross inability to fathom the various aspects of animal use, settling instead for over-generalizations and the fatuous belief that there are simple solutions. But since neither of these actions are viable, what then?

Or, should we be capable of considering compromises, optimal approaches, and reasonable goals? Because some feedlot and egg farm conditions are dismal, should we wipe these out completely, or is it possible to consider setting higher standards? Should animal testing be outlawed, or should it be approached with an eye for necessity, humane conditions, and alternatives where feasible? Would these meet with more approval and produce a more rational appearance? Are they also capable of eradicating the very conditions that we react to in the first place? And isn’t getting a half-measure accepted a far greater benefit than having a full-measure rejected?

It bears noting that, of the two ‘compromise’ examples set forth above, both are already accepted and implemented, even legislated, to varying degrees; reasonable goals are always easier to meet.

Finally, I ask, what of the plants? Are they too undeserving of our consideration that we can slaughter them wholesale and bear not the slightest qualm? While this seems like a joke, plants have lives as well, and in their own way react to external stimuli and suffer from poor conditions. We differentiate them due to the idea that they do not feel as we do; we do not relate to them in any kind of empathic manner since they have no faces, no sounds, no recognizable actions. The argument that they lack a central nervous system is trivial, since plants do indeed communicate hazards and benefits throughout their tissues, and in some cases even to other plants. Fathoming the distinctive differences in our attitudes towards animals and plants is the first clue as to how we can rationally handle those attitudes.

There’s no conclusion that I want anyone reading to reach; I’m simply making the point that so many of our opinions about this topic are colored by deep-seated ‘instinctual’ reactions, mere side-effects of our imprecise evolutionary development. Far too many people seem to believe that if they feel strongly about something, then it must have value or be grounded in rationality, but this is far from true; in fact, it might be false more often, since careful consideration usually reveals the numerous factors and grey areas that make firm conclusions so hard to settle upon. So, since another evolutionary development is the frontal lobe area of our brains that lets us select the most advantageous approaches, it seems like we should let it have some input as well.

One plant

On the same day that I snagged the eentsy frog seen here, I collected a significant number of other pics (of course.) There might even be another forthcoming post out of the one-hour casual trip, but right now, I’m going to concentrate on just one plant. Not one plant species, but one solitary plant itself. This is part of the reason why I like macro work so much, because it often doesn’t take a lot of searching to find plenty of subjects.

Normally I try to line up the text with the images, which may or may not work very well because of varying monitor resolutions, but for this one I’m just going to insert them whatever way that I can since I have a large number of pics. I may also taker advantage of various little bits of text filler to help space things out, like this.

The plant in question is a variety of milkweed, genus Asclepias, which produces a crown of pale pink blooms atop long stalks – which meant that I didn’t need to be flat on the ground trying to get these images (yeah, I’m lazy sometimes.) Not only did the splash of color beg me to come closer, the monster black wasp servicing the flowers attracted my attention, but that one was far too spooky for any decent shots. Once closer, however, I soon spotted a variety of ladybird beetle that I hadn’t seen before, sightly larger than the species I’m familiar with and with a flare to the outer edges. It also appeared to have fallen asleep on its side on a sunny day, I think. In setting up for the first shot, I soon discovered that this was going to be a challenging day, since the wind was blowing and I had nothing to anchor the plant against swaying. So it largely became a matter of timing and luck.

Next to catch my eye was a plethora of golden aphids, in places almost obscuring the stems and giving a strange yellowish pallor to those areas when seen from a short distance back. Curiously, I found no ants harvesting their secretions, but I did find a collection of newly-winged adults clustered under the leaves, most likely drying out after a molt, preparatory to flying off in search of a mate.



The individual blooms themselves are quite small, less than a centimeter across the widest point of the petals, and I went in close for a few frames to capture the detail. This happens more often that you might think, but when I did this, I also snagged a tiny crab spider that I had no idea was even present (this is a cropped section from the much larger original.) Since macro work always involves a very short depth of field, there is a modicum of serendipity present by having focus on the spider as sharp as it is.

The next one was far less subtle. Even from a moderate distance as I circled the plant, I spotted the conspicuous dash of yellow. Many nature photographers demonstrate the wonderful matching of crab spider coloration to their chosen flower species, but either this guy couldn’t afford those books, or had been evicted from a goldenrod plant. Full credit, however, to a primo position, ready to snag whatever pollinator came close. The middle-of-the-food-chain status is evidenced here by its missing foreleg. Butterflies can be badass sometimes…



And finally, I close this post with a weevil, and the reappearance of the smaller crab spider – yes, I got two frames (actually more) of a spider that I did not even realize was present, though you’re forgiven if you don’t think this one counts; you’re not able to see the whole spider. But if you’ve given up, just highlight the blank space immediately following and look for the two legs peeking out among the petals at lower left.



Normally for these posts I make the effort to find the species shown and be nice and technical, trying to fool people that I’m a lot more educated than I am, but I repeat, I’m lazy, plus it took long enough to pin down the milkweed. So this is just a demonstration of how much can be found, as the tagline says, when you take the time to look.

I’m back, he says with hesitation

Okay, after a frustrating few hours, I think functionality has returned to the blog. The DNS switch was instant and painless, the mail server a bit confusing (a host that imparted conflicting info,) but the blog was a royal pain in the ass. Near as I can tell, one of my installed plugins, which worked fine on my old host, had radical disagreements with the new, and if you’ve had any experience with WordPress, you probably know that this can screw up damn near everything. It is most especially difficult to deal with when it prevents anything from displaying once you log in, a completely white screen, so you can’t even get to the menu to start shutting things off and seeing what works.

But enough about my greatly shortened life span. The main part of the site has been upgraded as least slightly almost all the way through, with new additions to most galleries, and most images resized (monitor resolutions have been going up,) and then a few new things here and there. For instance, I tacked on a new slideshow for recent images, photos that I liked but didn’t want to alter the galleries over, or make a new post. And if all you’ve ever shot has been digital, then you may want to check out this page.

So for anyone inconvenienced by the changeover, I apologize. I expected nothing less, even though I’d hoped for it, but I did remind myself why I never tried doing web work for a living. Then again, I might have been paid for all this time…

All right, am I redeemed slightly?

I recall apologizing for posting so many little creepies, and promised to try and find something cute, but that never did come to pass, did it? I simply wasn’t ever running across anything cute – I think I’ve glimpsed a rabbit in the past few months, and when the bluebirds hatched, they bailed the nest and the yard in a matter of hours. Anyway, a trip to the park today may have produced something that qualifies.


Does this count?

If you’re asking, I have no real idea what species this is, since I’m pretty certain it’s a juvenile – the head does not look properly shaped for an adult. Not to mention the size. If you haven’t noticed, that’s my fingertip providing scale in the background. The best I can say is, this is a variety of either tree frog or chorus frog, what are known colloquially as “peepers” from the quality of their nighttime calls. I couldn’t even achieve an angle that would let me see if the tadpole tail was still in evidence.

I was lucky (excuse me, exceptionally skilled!) to find this, since I’d leaned in close to this plant to photograph yet another creepy, a variety of leaf-footed bug, and noticed a strange bud on the young leaves. As the sun was progressing and starting to shine onto its perch, I had it timed just right; by my next circuit around the paths, my model had vanished, seeking a cooler and moister place to snooze.

If it helps, it was just slightly larger than a Japanese beetle, the smallest frog I’ve ever spotted in (more or less) adult stage. And I have frames of plenty of other subjects too, which may be featured in later posts, but I figured this little fella needed its own. And of course, feel free to tell me what species this is.

Fixed it!

The car was having a lot of issues, so I took it down to Craig’s Garage and gave them my list of problems: leaking oil seal, transmission getting stuck in second gear, bad alignment on the left front wheel, the heater not working, gas gauge intermittent, electric window on passenger side stuck down, a bad rattle at higher speeds, and ratty wiper blades. Many hours later, the guy at the garage called me to come take a look at it. Proudly, he showed me how wonderful the wiper blades worked now.

“And that’s it?” I asked.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’ They’re perfect wiper blades! Isn’t that enough?”

This seemed familiar. “You’re a theologian, aren’t you?” I hazarded.

If you’ve ever witnessed a long, drawn-out discussion on theology, chances are you know what I mean by this, since it’s a very common occurrence. A supremely large portion of theology consists of selecting just one of the myriad problems with religious posits (the problem of evil, the age of the earth, the lack of measurable effect, the contradictions of scripture, etc,) finding some way to explain or dodge around the select issue, and then feeling that this takes care of the whole lot and legitimizes religious belief.

And, unfortunately, enough people are perfectly willing to accommodate this entirely. There is no recognition of the numerous problems, there is only the delight in the victory, however small, and too often this isn’t even a solution, but more of a James Bond/Arnold Schwarzenegger quip – something that sounds good but really makes no sense: “Why are there still monkeys?!?!?”

It also bears noting that, in the centuries that theology has been wielded, we have yet to see any agreement on it or, god forbid, a complete theory. Talk to any five theologians, even on the exact same topic, and you’ll receive five different explanations. Sometimes more, if you ask again later.

“So what about the uneven tire wear on the left front?” I continued.

“That’s perfectly normal if you turn right a lot, so it’s not something that needs repairing,” said my theomechanic.

Another aspect seen far too often is, instead of providing some support or evidence for their own standpoint, theologians and the devout try to poke holes in the arguments/evidence against religious belief, and see this as sufficient. One example is the shroud of Turin, which has been carbon-dated (three times independently) to about the same time it appeared suddenly in historical records, some 1400 years after it was claimed to have wrapped jesus. It takes no effort whatsoever to find countless sources, none of them bearing any scientific basis whatsoever, that claim that the carbon dating tests were wildly skewed (yes, to an order of magnitudes) by contamination. Little niggling details like the cloth having been made on a loom that wasn’t to be invented for another six centuries, the image possessing wild anatomical inaccuracies, and it being both a flat-plane rendering and distinctly paint, aren’t sufficient to label the shroud a hoax – not in the light of a potential loophole in the carbon dating!

“What about the second gear issue?” I persevered, for some ungodly reason.

“Ah, here’s the story behind that,” said the mequinas. “That gear was certainly made from metal that used to be in a diesel train engine, and they have only two main speeds. Thus it would be resistant to shifting up out of second, since that’s an overspeed condition to trains.”

And when the scripture is lacking in any kind of adequate or relevant detail, it is perfectly permissible to simply infer (that means, “make up”) whatever details seem sufficient to promote your goal, and proceed as if this was just as much a part of scripture as the records themselves. Very few people seem to realize how little of any given current religious practice or imparted information is actually mentioned in their holy book. Religious practices throughout history have been shaped by what was popular at the time, from the proscription against women speaking without permission, to witch hunts (you do realize this is against one of them ten commandments, right?), up to the curious idea that the fossil record is a ‘test of faith.’ Even hell is barely covered, and not by name, only in the new testament. Then of course there are the countless changes to actual scripture through the centuries, which even if we accept the idea (see carbon-dating above) that those editors were divinely-guided, why did it have to happen so many times over the years? Yet the lack of relevant support for the catholic church’s crusade against condoms doesn’t clue in enough people that the church is making it all up as it goes along.

“Let me try and clarify the situation here,” I said with utmost patience. “You specifically hire yourself out for auto repair. I have agreed to pay you for just that. Your part in this is to repair the auto.”

The horn-poker simply waved his hands dismissively. “Listen, I spoke to every mechanic in the shop here, and they all agree that the car’s fixed now. You just don’t understand sophisticated auto repair.”

Failing to make any kind of coherent point, those arguing for the benefits of theology frequently fall back onto two particular arguments: The idea that a majority opinion supplants fact and evidence; and the implication that anyone not seeing the value of theology simply hasn’t understood theology. The former demonstrates an interesting avenue of psychological investigation, since the flaws with it are obvious the moment anyone actually stops to think about it, yet surprisingly few ever do. The latter is simply a matter of convenience, the pot of gold that you can obtain by reading the right books or listening to the right theologian, each of which naturally is not the one you just finished demolishing. Curiously, not only is this knowledge not a requirement for the churches brimming with people right now, but 99% of them can not enumerate any of the same arguments when asked – apparently such sophistication can be completely unconscious in the right people.

Let’s not forget how arrogant this attitude is, seasoned with irony. Those putting forth this rejoinder directly imply that you cannot grasp the nuances of their standpoint while being unable to explain it themselves. That might be adorable… coming from a three-year-old.

“Just fix the goddamn car,” I suggested, patience with such bullshit now having reached its limit.

“The car’s fixed; that settles it,” came the haughty reply.

I shouldn’t have to point out how little this would mean to anyone, who leaves no better off than before, and it certainly doesn’t demonstrate any useful skills or wisdom. Such arguments, which really are purchased as bumper stickers to display proudly to one and all, only make the sophisticated point that someone is both irrational and petulant. That churches actually promote and glorify such attitudes isn’t a mark in their favor, either.

We, thankfully, maintain some standards for people that fulfill useful functions in society, such as auto mechanics, so the chances of this conversation actually taking place are minute. In fact, I think anyone who tried such explanations would know they were courting a fat lip or a lawsuit, and certainly wouldn’t be keeping much business. It’s a shame we haven’t yet reached that minimal standard with theology.

Inspired, or provoked, by this post on the problem of evil at EvolutionBlog.

Curiosity

As I sit here watching, more or less live, all the guys at JPL as the Mars Science Laboratory (otherwise known as “Curiosity”) prepares to land on Mars, I’m wandering off in speculation about humans as a species and our own curiosity, the trait that makes us do things exactly like this.

[The vehicle is being drawn by Mars gravity and is on its way up to 5.9 kilometers per second, or 21,240 kph (13,200 mph) entry speed. Mars has a thin atmosphere, so slowing the lander is one of those tricky things.]

[Okay, things happen much faster than I can type, and certainly too often to allow me to form coherent thoughts on a different topic. Just accept that the lander has successfully touched down now, and even transmitted the first images back. More further down.]

Back to small ‘c’ curiosity. When we look at all of the different species on earth, we see a very wide variety of attention paid towards surroundings and events, but overall, the vast majority of it deals solely with survival: Is it food? Is it a threat? Is it sexy? And while it is exceedingly difficult for us to form anything more than wild guesses at to what goes through another species’ minds, there probably aren’t too many that look at, for instance, the behavior of a nearby bird and wonder, “Why did they do that?” (exactly as we’re doing right now. Or at least I am.) This is something, however, that humans do constantly. We have just, at enormous expense in money, time and effort, placed a little go-cart on the surface of a planet that is far less hospitable to us than any location on earth, and for what? Because we want to know just what it’s like, and if there’s any possibility that sometime in the past it fostered its own forms of life.

Now, it’s easy to say that’s a pretty damn cool question, and the idea of life on a neighboring planet is remarkably stimulating. It’s very hard to say why, though. I mean, we’re pretty sure it’s gone now, but even if some rudimentary bacteria remains hidden somewhere, it’s something that would have so little application to our lives, our survival, here on earth that it’s way out of proportion to how much effort we’re expending trying to find out. The cats asleep in the room where I type this right now certainly wouldn’t give a rat’s ass (rat’s asses being the standard form of currency to cats, equal to €1.8 or $4.95 US) to know anything at all about it. And believe me, they’ve got the time on their paws – their biggest concern is whether someone ran fresh water into the tub for them. No, it’s just Homo sapiens that is so damn interested in finding out such things.

Everyone who doesn’t like space programs makes this point; isn’t there something more important that we could be doing here on earth? And not to knock the question, because I think it’s good that people step back and gain some perspective sometimes, but I’m forced to wonder if there was something more important that they themselves could have been doing other than watching TV, or working at whatever job they actually hold. I’m pretty certain not everyone that asks this is doing medical research or installing plumbing in third-world countries, and possesses no smart phone, Twitter account, or DVD player.

Our curiosity does seem a bit misguided at times, but it bears some examination too. It’s responsible for every last scientific advancement that we’ve ever made, and as I’ve said in earlier posts, that time and effort was an investment that pays off to everyone the world over. We cannot predict what kind of knowledge we can gain from space exploration, any more than we predicted what could be done with the strange electrical resistance of silicon (responsible for my ability to type this.) The early scientists who played with cultures in a lab instead of working directly with patients, accomplished a hell of a lot more for our survival, surpassing individual efforts with global effect. Knowledge is a bankable asset, more so than any monetary figure, and it’s this very curiosity of ours that drives it higher, farther, greater.

But, is this justification? Are we simply succumbing to some basic emotional need, a quirk of evolution that developed this trait of curiosity within us that we now satisfy with actions that bear little relation to our survival? I point out on a regular basis that religion is far more emotional than practical, and have examined the underlying drives behind the belief in, and support of, various questionable subjects like conspiracies and UFOs. Does curiosity stand up to the application of critical thinking? Is it an urge that we should be more aware of and resistant to, so that it’s applied effectively when it is? How far is too far?

I could argue that the large number of people that bear an interest in things like space programs or particle accelerators is justification that they’re serving a purpose, but I openly reject the exact same argument when it comes to religion. Perhaps I could say that no harm is being done, except insofar as the money and efforts could be spent in pursuits more socially oriented, like disease research. Right now, the spinoff benefits are the primary argument in favor of many of these programs – while not insignificant, this does seem to be a roundabout way of accomplishing things.

Human nature plays a large part in all of this. The jubilation within mission control at JPL, somewhat less exuberant than soccer fans but probably considerably more sober, bespoke of not just the release of tension, but the accomplishment of a major piece of engineering, a puzzle of vast proportions. To send a little craft millions of kilometers away into an atmosphere humans have never witnessed themselves and soft-land a semi-autonomous rolling probe, immediately receiving back images from the surface, is an astounding feat, and that’s probably underselling it. Those that pulled it off were motivated to tackle it by their own personal interests in the puzzles, far more than they might have been motivated to find alternate energy sources or more efficient farming methods. In other words, we’re likely benefiting from the highest yield of their abilities by indulging their interests. Who among us hasn’t had a job, or simply tackled a task, that failed to receive our best efforts because we really couldn’t give a shit about the undertaking? And when we purchase the aforementioned DVD players and smart phones, are we fostering our own motivations to work harder and afford such things? Who gets to judge what’s excessive, frivolous, or unnecessary? Did even the collapse of communism occur, at least in part, because of too little encouragements of these type?

Even if we directly compare the emotional satisfactions of landing a laboratory on Mars with the practicing of religion or pursuit of conspiracies, we have to recognize the end results as well. I have yet to see any beneficial technology, or even attitudes, from those promoting 9/11 ‘truth’ or a cabal behind JFK’s assassination, and religion seems to foster at least as many bad behaviors as good (and I’m being generous here.) But when you arrive at a destination through the use of a GPS unit, you’re directly benefiting from those puzzles solved by the geeks in the space programs, who figured out how to use satellites thousands of kilometers away to pinpoint your location in seconds. The particle accelerators like the LHC at CERN are directly related to finding ways to enhance the conductivity of metals, which not only affects just how efficient computers might be (and makes the GPS units so small,) but can significantly decrease our energy needs by creating materials that do not turn electricity into waste heat – if you’ve ever wondered what a superconductor is, that’s it. Even the quest to save weight, and thus fuel, in a lander project can result in smaller cameras that can actually go into an ailing patient and see a medical issue without extensive surgery. Almost all of these things take time to come to fruition, and often when they finally do, we’ve taken for granted the connection between the goal to reach the moon and the signal that brings us the Olympics. All of it because of curiosity.

So if you haven’t seen it, don’t bother waiting for me to describe it. Go find the footage on your own of the moments the signal came back to earth and confirmed that, some fourteen minutes before, Curiosity had successfully touched down (the signal lag from Mars means that the folks at JPL were monitoring pre-programmed instructions and not doing any control of their own.) The jubilation you see is not just personal accomplishment, but the actual scientific advancement of our species as a whole, hidden within a low-resolution image of the lander’s own shadow. Even if we cannot see the point of the program, the delight and relief is still infectious, and that emotional communication is another base trait of humans. They’re what make us accomplish so much, so maybe we can indulge them a bit.

UPDATE: Despite the fact that I read both, I really hadn’t read either this post at Weird Things, or the post at Cracked that he based it on, before I wrote this. Really. I just feel the need to point that out.

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