I wonder why?

Al Denelsbeck

Yesterday, I had a visitor, who turned out to be (as most knocks on the door are anymore) someone who wanted to introduce me to god. The last couple of times that this happened, it was some Wally Cleaver types in white shirts and ties, which spells either mormons or jehovahs, and I wasn’t in any kind of mood then to open the debate, so I chased them off with obvious amusement. This time, however, I was in an impish mood, and it was a lady in her forties who simply told me that she was a “believer.” This prompted me to ask, “Believer in what?” and basically determined, from the vagueness and inclusion of god and allah, that she was likely unitarian. I didn’t even lead her on, and started out early by explaining that I was an atheist and relied on what was demonstrated by reality. This did not cause her to cut it off abruptly, however, and so we started a very friendly, mutually respectful discussion.

For over an hour. I began to feel sorry for her, especially near the end when she got largely silent, and I doubt she left happy. I wasn’t being nasty in any way, I was simply able to counter all of her points. One in particular stood out, and had me curious about it afterward.

One of the aspects convincing to her of a god, she admitted, was the behavior of some animals. Mother bears protect their cubs, and salmon swim upstream to spawn, where they die, and their bodies nourish the young (I’m just reporting what she told me – I know the current takes away whatever nutrients they might have contributed long before the eggs hatch.) I hadn’t told her that I was a nature photographer and science enthusiast, so she didn’t realize the opening she left me, but I was happy to fill it anyway, with a brief rundown of natural selection.

Here’s the funny thing, and I’ve noticed this before with too many other people. They find something wondrous, like the great fit between animals and environment, or the narrow range of conditions life can exist within, and that comprises their awe at god’s creation. But it never occurs to them to use that sense of wonder to actually ask questions, to see if we, overall, know more about such things than they know personally. Actually finding out that evolution explained those curious situations hadn’t entered her mind. The same could be said for other things that we talked about, such as human behavior and the tendency towards conflict.

I can only guess why I see this so often. I suspect people think they’re supposed to feel awe at the work of an omnipotent being. And of course, science is far too boring and clinical, emotionless and precise – it can’t serve to explain why something is fascinating (I’m putting myself in their shoes here, give me a break.) There’s even the idea, and I’ve run into this before more than once, that the lack of evidence for a supreme being isn’t really an issue, because everything is evidence of a supreme being! When all you have is a hammer, and so on; when you desperately need to believe in deities, they can be found under the carpet and behind every tree.

I’m funny; I think that the various aspects of animal physiology and behavior are hundreds of times more fascinating from having their origins in the simple formulas that natural selection provides, guided by slight advantages to reproduce better than others with different traits. I find myself thinking that an intelligently-designed system would have no need of competition, no variance in populations, because species would never exceed their resources. Seems like a basic first step in planning, doesn’t it? To offer up, as many do, the feeble excuse that “there must be a plan we don’t understand” is to remain ignorant of the point that they were using nature as evidence of that plan in the first place, to show why they believed in god. The same can be said for the explanation, offered only occasionally because few religious folk actually read scripture, that competition, animals eating other animals, all came about because adam & eve ate the fruit, gaining the knowledge of good & evil against god’s wishes – one wonders how he failed to know that this would happen, or why he put the tree in the garden in the first place. Again, what’s missed is that this only attempts to explain the competition that we already know exists, but offers absolutely nothing as to why any deity would bother; worse, why every last animal on the planet is along for the ride of original sin from god’s ‘special’ creation. For both, it becomes clear that “god” is the answer they had already settled on, then tried to jam the undeniable facts of nature into that answer.

I also have to wonder what such strange beliefs actually mean for things like environmentalism, conservation, and climate awareness. How often does it lead to the idea that these must be of no concern, because “god has a plan” or “things will be made to turn out all right”? Does the idea of there being some big daddy in the sky mean that people really believe we can’t fall off the bike?

I’m among the many who do not delight in not knowing something, thereby turning ignorance into awe, but instead prefer to try and find out. Wonder has a place, but as a goad, not a goal. I find it a special kind of cowardice to at least suspect, like in the case of evolution, that the answer is readily available, but avoid it anyway because it might mean learning something (mostly, that theism provides no answers.) To actually be afraid of knowledge is pathetic beyond description.

Like I said, my visitor was very quiet when she left, and I’m sure she felt she didn’t accomplish what she set out to do – but this is the bible belt, so I imagine she soon found someone else that reinforced her views again. Yet if I’m any good at all, she at least has a few things to think about now.

Sylvan Heights continued

Al Denelsbeck

And so, our saga resumes where it left off, with our heroes trapped within the confines of a completely non-treacherous and non-threatening bird park…

As I mentioned before, Sylvan Heights Bird Park provides great opportunities for close encounters, and to the photographer, the urge to do personal portraits of the birds is practically irresistible. I found myself breaking my own personal rule, however, which is to avoid direct portraits and try instead to include more setting and interest within the frame – in other words, not to make the subject quite so dominant, like the Demoiselle Crane (Anthropoides virgo) seen here, but instead part of a scene. In my defense (remembering what was on my mind at the time,) this is often hard to do with subjects that wander at will and don’t take direction too well, and one’s attention tends to concentrate on focus, light, and the poses of the birds. I know I spend no small amount of time, in situations like this, waiting for the critter to turn their head just right to get a nice catchlight in the eyes, a bright reflection that adds a lot to the character and “life” of the animal. Many animals prefer not to blind themselves and so don’t pose where sunlight is directly hitting their eyes too often, the selfish gits.

As it is with most zoos, you take the opportunities that you have, and plan to return later on to reap a whole different set of images, when particular animals are more accessible, and when plumage and light conditions are different. In this way you build a wide portfolio of images from any one location. There’s also the interesting concept of getting used to the species, knowing you already have several frames of simple portraits, and so subsequent trips means that you try for something more creative, artistic, expressive, and so on. For instance, I got spoiled on Great Blue Herons in Florida, where close approaches are surprisingly easy at times, so I almost ignore them here in North Carolina where I cannot get within twenty meters of one.

I’ve spoken before about exposure compensation, and in situations like this, knowing how to exploit it almost automatically will help produce much better results. We were in sunny, high contrast conditions, which can be hard to work with in the first place, because cameras (film or digital) tend to capture very narrow ranges of light, so on days when the ranges are wide, it’s easy to fall outside the envelope and lose detail in either bright or shadowed areas, sometimes both. At the same time, a large variety of multi-colored subjects often challenges the exposure logic within cameras. Is the camera obtaining its light reading, and thus setting “proper” exposure, off of the white feathers, or the black? Or even the background? I was delighted to finally see a Crested Screamer (Chauna torquata) in person, having read about them in The Drunken Forest by Gerald Durrell, but I have other frames where the sunlit crest feathers are overexposed and lose all detail in the glare. It’s possible to get a general ambient light reading, with an external meter or by aiming the camera at a good midtone, and use those settings on manual exposure throughout, but this would need to be done for all light conditions throughout your shoot, and with birds turning into and away from the light, it’s usually easier to adjust exposure compensation back and forth a bit, bracketing as needed. I always caution people that the preview image provided by the LCD is a truly horrible way to judge exposure, but with a lot of experience and comparison, it can provide a rough judgment. The same may be said for using histograms – birds with white feathers will naturally provide some peaks in the highlights, but how much is too much?

To the park’s credit, it is often possible to work multiple sides of the aviary or pond areas, and thus exploit the light conditions a little more. Provided, of course, that one can convince the birds to cooperate. This is where spending a little time, coming back through the same areas, and returning to the park on other days comes in handy.

At one point we noticed a local native Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) hanging out on the outside of the peacock cage, who was only mildly anxious at our approach. A little later we questioned a park worker, who informed us that it was actually a wild fowl, not a park resident, who had taken a shine to the peacocks and turned stalker. I admit to being a little curious over this, since both the peacock and the turkey were males, but I’ve seen territorial disputes between caged and wild birds before, and this situation didn’t have that appearance. (I digress for a brief anecdote: Many years ago while visiting a wildlife refuge in Florida, I saw my first Pileated Woodpeckers, surprisingly large birds, and then checked out the nearby rehabilitation clinic. There, an unreleasable captive who’d had a wing amputation would get apoplectic over a wild visitor, who would periodically sit on the timbers right outside the captive’s fence and beat a territorial drumming, well aware that the resident inside could do nothing about it. And you thought only humans could be sadistic…)

Situated in the transition area between cotton fields and wetlands, the park creators exploited this a bit and put in two other attractions: an observation blind over a beaver pond, and a “treehouse” gazebo on stilts over a wetland expanse. It was unfortunately the wrong time of year for either, but I imagine they’re great observation areas in the spring (we will, hopefully, find out.) There are also a couple of tanks of poison dart frogs, and a honeybee hive with a glass side. The main building offers a gift shop and some kids’ activities, though it appears the best opportunities come through their scheduled learning programs.

Despite my desire for some different subject matter on this trip, I yielded to temptation when I found a pair of Wheel Bugs (Arilus cristatus,) a variety of assassin bug, mating on a fence post. Their piercing proboscises, for draining the insides from the other insects that make up their food, are plainly visible from this angle. This past year has been almost entirely dedicated to bug shots, without my intentions – I’ve simply been unable to do enough traveling to provide opportunities for other subjects, and have been milking the local area for everything I can. I probably should begin a bobcat or fox portfolio project…

Species breeding programs, like the ones this park is built around, actually accomplish an astonishing amount. Numerous species that were on the brink of extinction have recovered, in part, due to the reintroduction of healthy animals that got their start in a protected and managed environment. Those people that work around such species for months or years at a time gain valuable experience in their behavior, diet, and physiology, contributing to our overall knowledge of the animals among us. Such programs are only part of the story, however, and need the assistance of public awareness, sanctioned areas, and often federal aid, both in the form of funding as well as regulation and enforcement of protective measures. The public portions serve to garner interest in the situations, essentially sneaking in a bit of conservational awareness to individuals who simply came to look at the pretty animals (let’s just agree to ignore the wheel bugs for the moment.) It’s disturbing, in a lot of ways, that banks and automakers receive government handouts while wildlife programs, which really do contribute to the health of the planet overall, have to beg and scrounge for funding. Even worse, when everyone starts fretting about the economy, such programs are often hit very hard.

So if you’re in the area, go pay Sylvan Heights Bird Park a visit, and if you’re not, find the counterpart program in your own area. It’s a small amount of effort that we can put forth, and worth a lot more to us than, for instance, seeing the latest pile of 3D CGI offerings from talentless Hollywood producers. Plus you’re allowed to bring your own food.


Book semi-review: Exuberant Skepticism

Al Denelsbeck

The book reviews on this blog have been more of a personal recommendation list, rather than a critical review of new releases as one might expect, for a couple of reasons. I don’t go through too many books at a time, and not many new ones, and as one might have noticed, there are certain topics I tend to concentrate on. So what’s been seen here before has been positive. Until now.

Exuberant Skepticism is a book that I picked up out of interest in the topic, and the reputation of author Paul Kurtz, who is the founder of the Center for Skeptical Inquiry, the Council of Secular Humanism, a fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and a longtime contributor to Skeptical Inquirer magazine – seemed like just my cup of tea. Yet, it defeated me, and after numerous attempts over an extended period of time, I could not finish this book; thus the post title. While I have avoided chastising certain publishers of reviewed books regarding their cover art choices (mostly the complete lack thereof,) this one might have held a hint, as Kurtz looks out from the cover in undisguised contempt of those damn kids on his lawn, daring the potential reader to make any connection to the book’s title.

Part of the reason for my abandoning this book may be that it is not written for a specific goal, but is rather a collection of essays and lectures for a variety of audiences, largely academic; Kurtz is professor emeritus of philosophy from SUNY Buffalo, and some of the chapters were lectures targeted towards the philosophical community, where the academic style is often dry and abstract. It is this abstraction that allowed one of the greatest disservices to the ideas within the book, since Kurtz seems to feel that analogies or examples are to be avoided at all costs. Even when I identified with the points he was making, I found difficult to make a connection between the abstract statements and any real-world manifestation. Whereas many lecturers and academicians might make a statement of importance in broad terms and follow it with a breakdown of its meaning, Kurtz simply proceeds to the next statement. I found myself re-reading paragraphs and even sentences three or more times to parse the message within, a tedious process at best.

In the first 140 (of 226 total) pages that I managed to slog through, I found not the slightest hint of humor within, no anecdotes, no historical process, and barely even anything in support of the statements that Kurtz was making. The content is painfully dry and lifeless, about as far from “exuberant” as possible, causing me at one point to actually wonder if this was supposed to be satire. The tone throughout lacks any vestige of humanity, instead seeming to strive for Inscriptions of Great Import, as if each sentence is a thought of undeniable depth. There appears to be no effort to reach an audience, but simply to record truths.

This, all by itself, in effect denies a skeptical stance. Aside from the subtle connection to the Appeal From Authority fallacy, where statements are judged for value only by the status of those who issue them, there seems to be no recognition that the overriding idea behind skepticism is to seek rational support for holding a particular view. Little to no reasoning at all is given within this book; it is apparently assumed that the truth is self-evident. Now, anyone can find a proverb to support whatever position they prefer to hold – and with a little more effort, one to completely contradict it. The strongest points are made by building the case and demonstrating the usefulness within, showing how it applies effectively to our lives, decisions, attitudes, and so on. Simply offering a statement, even when completely correct, requires the reader to make any connections on their own, and to do this, they have to feel motivated to prove the truth of the statement to themselves. This is asking a lot from most people, which is something that critical thinking also addresses, since too many people skip such efforts in favor of whatever supports their immediate emotional needs. In other words, this book appears targeted towards those who need it the least.

And then again, it is almost condescending in tone, reading like a lecture from the head of a university to the assembled faculty, expounding on the school’s mission statement and the underlying values they all must strive for. In fact, this demarcation is frequently evident, in that there is an “I” and “you,” and Kurtz’s entire audience is “you.” There is no effort, and apparently no desire, to join the reader in a common goal, to point out that we are motivated by the same things, or to communicate with the reader as equals. While it is more subtle than I am about to put it, the book has a constant sense of, “me talk, you listen,” with engagement and maintained interest being either assumed or considered unnecessary.

I am more than a little hard on philosophy, so knowing that this was Kurtz’s field of expertise, I recognized that this might be emphasized distinctly within his book. Yet, I cannot even see the value from a philosophical standpoint. Philosophy virtually requires the development of a line of reasoning, a path that demonstrates a logical superiority over alternatives. This actually isn’t hard to do with skepticism, yet this was assiduously avoided, for reasons I cannot fathom.

Carl Sagan, James Randi, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Brian Cox, among others, show that exuberance in skeptical pursuits is entirely possible, and it is almost certainly this exuberance that does so much for the idea of critical thinking in the first place. Even Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens produce some of the most incisive commentary on belief systems, and while it doesn’t seem quite appropriate to call their approach “exuberant,” they nevertheless nail their topics so thoroughly to the wall that detractors almost invariably have to attack a parody of their points (or even the tone, as if this suddenly became relevant,) since arguing their actual points is so difficult to do. George Carlin is remembered for his biting, satirical views, presented with humor yet still getting his message across. There are many ways to promote skepticism, and to make it more savory and entertaining than the cynicism with which it is often confused.

This book is not among them. I have no problem with saying that it is assuredly one of the best ways to chase people away from the idea and practice, and convince them that skepticism is, at the very least, emotionless, pedantic, and tedious. It is not enough to derive items of importance to society; to be of any use, one must also be able to communicate them as well, preferably in a memorable way.

Too cool, part 11: Sylvan Heights Bird Park

Al Denelsbeck


As I indicated in the previous post, we had a trip planned that might produce some new images, and while I’d like to build the suspense to the point of frustration, I find this a hard thing to do, especially when I lead the post off with a header photo. So yes, we did get some useful stuff, and this will be another multiple post.

Nature photographers, as well as amateur naturalists and simply people interested in animals, need to get out from time to time to places where close encounters are virtually guaranteed – in the case of nature photographers, it’s to build stock images and add some portrait and interest-style pics, but it also helps to learn a bit more about whatever species you can. Sylvan Heights Bird Park has been on my list for a few years now, but it sits in a remote town in NC called Scotland Neck, which really isn’t close to anything except I-95. However, it’s well worth the special trip, and more than once, too. It’s not just the variety or good opportunities for avian photos, but the fact that it is almost interactive.

The first indication of what kind of a day it would be came early on, having entered the park and started out on the deck observing the first pond. While comparing the number of birds, mostly ducks, that were coming up for morning chow, The Girlfriend began making excited attention-getting sounds while being unable to create any actual words. I was trying to remember the procedure for the Heimlich maneuver when I saw what had her attention, which was a young crane eagerly following a park worker up the path like a puppy. The worker heard us, and on return helpfully came over to allow us a closer look. Her companion was a nine-week-old Sarus Crane (Grus antigone), about 80 cm (2 ft) tall and still in the needy stage. That alone probably would have sealed the deal, at least as far as The Girlfriend was concerned, but it was only the start.

The park has several aviary sections with gates that the public is invited to enter, which puts them among a wide selection of fowl each time. Typically, low fences separate the public from the natural areas for the birds, but this doesn’t mean that some of the birds won’t come by out of curiosity or the thought of a handout (food is available to be given out to the birds if desired.) From a nature photographer’s viewpoint, this has both bad and good points. The fencing and netting is a necessary part of having a public attraction such as this, but it does produce a number of limitations if you’re trying to leave such things out of your images (and you should.) However, most of the areas are fairly large and provide angles to eliminate the man-made aspects, so while it isn’t possible to photograph every species this way, most can be exploited with a little effort.

For the Abyssinian Ground Hornbill (Bucorvus abyssinicus) at top, I was able to shoot through the fencing by putting the lens against the openings, producing only the subtle staggered background seen behind her head. The fence was necessary, however, as she tried to greet my close approaches with that massive beak, and while she might simply have wanted a handout, finding out the hard way that she was being protective of her territory is something I’d prefer to avoid.

The other side of this coin was the pair of Victoria Crowned Pigeons (Goura victoria) who came up to the fence at our feet and hung out for portraits, then hopped onto the railing to really mug it up, even nibbling on The Girlfriend’s lenshood in the vague hope that Canon had finally made one that was edible (we’ve all been waiting.) There’s always a part of me that’s prepared for the defensive peck or bite, since what appears friendly to us is often intended as a menacing warning sign from birds, but the Vics were totally blasé about our presence. Another Crowned Pigeon, this one alone in a cage nearby, began producing a remarkable call, so bass that it was hard to trace and almost disturbing – I can recommend bringing either a sound recording device or video camera to capture the full range of experience within the park. Also, when shooting digital, be sure to snap the identification signs as you go so you have a record of the species later on.

The various bird calls, of course, form a jungle-movie soundtrack of background noise throughout the park, occasionally interspersed with someone’s piercing cries just, apparently, for the hell of it. The Argus Pheasant (Argusianus argus) could produce a “Wooo!” that would have made Michael Jackson give up in frustration, and started a string of calls that got gradually faster until it sounded like a siren. A Dark-winged Trumpeter (Psophia viridis) favored us with a rattling sound much like the local crows, which I imitated by dragging my finger against the cage fencing, thereby eliciting a brief conversation. I have no idea what either of us said, but I suspect the bird was simply correcting my pronunciation.

The park itself is the offshoot of a decades long breeding program by the founder, Mike Lubbock, who started it as a private preserve in 1989, only opening the public center in 2006. Thus, much of it is dedicated to threatened and endangered species around the globe, and a whole portion of the facility is separate from the public park, which is where breeding programs for zoos and conservation efforts take place. There were several species that we saw that we already knew from the NC Zoological Park and the three NC aquariums, and we suspect we now know where they came from.

It also provides the opportunity to see some rare and endangered species up close and personal, as well as some really vivid ones, like this startlingly iridescent Himalayan Monal Pheasant (Lophophorus impejanus,) also known as an Impeyan Monal or Danphe. The difference between the male and female (the male shown here) is so drastic as to convince virtually anyone that they are completely separate species. And the nice thing about two people shooting is that one of you can save the ass of the other when they fail to get a decent image, as happened here.

I’ve never been too excited about ducks, which admittedly is where the strength of this park lies – there are more species here than I’ve seen in any other facility or collection, from every continent. Regardless, if you’re into birds in the least, this is a great place to visit, showing off species, plumage, and behavior in prime viewing conditions. Photographers won’t need a long telephoto lens to get decent photos – most of my shots were done with my 24-135mm workhorse – but a tele can produce great portraits from even the shy residents. The park is also kid-friendly, handicapped accessible, and picnic lunches are welcome. Check it out!

Coming up: more photos and encounters from the park… which can now be found here.

That’s not right

Al Denelsbeck

I’ve had this image kicking around for a few years now, so I figured I’d feature it as a bump while I’m away, hopefully getting some new images.

In nearby Duke Forest, there’s a tree that developed in a rather curious way, one that (as a complete non-botanist or -arborist or -treeist,) I cannot attempt to explain. Perhaps someone has been dumping cthulhu into the creek. Anyway, what you’re seeing here is largely all the same tree, even the blotchy blob in the foreground. Towards the bottom, and again to the right, are two sizable stones that I’m fairly certain I couldn’t lift myself, but the Ent seems to be a bit maternal towards them. If you are doubting your own eyes (or suspecting my Photoshop skills,) clicking on the image will provide a higher resolution version. This unsavory miscegenation of vegetation and phlegm has been thriving quite happily for the several years in which I’ve hurriedly passed it by. Even the companion plants growing within its unholy embrace cannot disguise what is probably the entrance to the underworld, or perhaps the dread lair of the Fraggles. Just the mere mention begat their arcane chanting within your head, didn’t it?

So, when my posts halt and you hear of central Carolina under the onslaught of Squishington, you now have some idea how it happened. Meanwhile, I’ll continue to de-convert all those who insist that the beauty of nature is proof of god’s existence by showing them this image. It hasn’t failed yet.

Book Review: Paranormality

Al Denelsbeck

In an earlier post, I refuted a handful of responses to an interview of Richard Wiseman after the release of his new book, and now, I have finally had the chance to read the book itself. Let’s just say that those who need this book the most are the ones who are likely finding every excuse not to read it.

What?Paranormality: Why We See What Isn’t There by Professor Richard Wiseman is a handbook of the ways that our perceptions are easily fooled. Anyone familiar with Wiseman’s website knows that he often engages his readers in experiments, and this book is no exception. In fact, it is the first I’ve seen of an interactive book, in that he not only provides some exercises for the reader, all very easy to perform, but intersperses QR codes throughout, which provide smartphones enabled with appropriate applications the ability to go directly to video demonstrations and interviews – for the readers without a Star Trek tricorder, the links are provided alongside. Since he could not find a publisher willing to bite on this subject matter in the states, a truly ridiculous state of affairs considering some of the total schlock I’ve seen printed, it is also available as an e-book, able to be read on any of the e-readers that can load the Kindle format, or (as in my case) Kindle software for the PC. For any web-enabled reader, these links are clickable.

Wiseman investigates the type of curious phenomena that usually get labeled as paranormal, mystical, or spiritual, but this leads him into the more down-to-earth disciplines such as psychology and perception as well – in fact, he demonstrates that these are often inextricably linked. There is a difference between what we experience and what we think we experience, all too often, and his goal is to provoke the reader to understand this. Magicians exploit this all the time, and the funny thing is, we accept it in those circumstances; virtually no one believes that the sudden appearance of a coin or the rejoining of snipped rope occurs through supernatural powers. Curiously, though, many people cannot apply this knowledge to television psychics and ghostly encounters – disbelief is not only avoided, it is often considered to be close-minded and stubborn, thus the negative connotations of the word “skeptic.” Wiseman examines how often we are mistaken about what we experience, from historical through present-day examples, and includes several reader exercises to demonstrate how easy it is to fool our senses – he even instructs the reader how to have an out-of-body experience, or engage in lucid (controlled) dreaming! This helps establish that such phenomena cannot simply be put down to the intensely gullible or to elaborate hoaxes, much less actual paranormal experience, but are symptoms of human perception and mentality. In addition, he shows how testing these cases sometimes requires both creativity and insight.

Those remain the most interesting portions of the book, despite the participatory exercises. Michael Faraday’s method of testing subconscious muscle movements, later to be termed “ideomotor actions,” was quite clever, and more importantly, required the consideration that table tipping might, just might, be caused by something other than spirits. Belief is one of humanity’s most damaging traits, because it halts all examination into something curious – the people who discover not only the hoaxes, but the peculiar functioning of both body and mind, could only do so by questioning the given explanations. Wiseman does a great job in allowing the reader to see for themselves how many peculiar functions our bodies and minds really have.

In some ways, however, this may backfire. Some of Wiseman’s demonstrations work better in groups of people, where the average results can show the point better than a single example, which may fall outside the predictions. Also, my guess is that the reader is typically going to be on their guard against thinking traps from the very nature of the book, and thus make some effort not to be among the “average” respondent. In one case, he asks the reader to memorize a set of words, and later on asks for these to be recounted, giving some key words as reminders. The point is to show how simple cues could help spark our memory, but in my case, I had already memorized the list through mnemonic structure solely to dodge the thinking trap that I suspected was coming. I also don’t go to parties, which is where many of Wiseman’s exercises would be most effective (and entertaining.)

Another small issue I had is with the overall tone. The writing style that comes through has a hint of simplification to it, as if Wiseman was addressing middle-school students, which isn’t usually necessary even with middle-school students. This wasn’t bad, certainly not condescending, but it seemed to result in the subjects being treated more superficially than was warranted, and could perhaps be frustrating to those who really want more information about such topics. I am probably a bit prejudiced, in that I have studied these topics for a while and know of other works that treat them with greater detail, such as James Randi’s Flim Flam!  Readers familiar with psychics and scam-artists (I know, I said that as if they were two different things) will not find a lot of new information here, but it’s still a handy book, and fun. Wiseman’s approach is open and nonjudgmental, not cynical at all, and he succumbs to the urge to slip some humor in here and there. Readers convinced that psychics and ghosts are real, however, might find too many openings to exploit, and remain unconvinced by the demonstrations.

Now, Wiseman is British, and so isn’t as influenced by US culture, which explains something that I regretted not finding in the book: detailed explanations of the bullshit that is regularly seen in popular shows about psychics and ghost hunters. The aforementioned difficulty with finding an American publishing company would have doomed such a book even more, but one is badly needed here. Some aspects are indeed covered, so don’t let me give the wrong impression; ‘impression’ is in fact just the right word here, since among other examples, Wiseman relates the ease in which mysterious encounters can be induced with suggestion. For those open-minded enough to question the accounts, this is enough to invoke some healthy suspicion, but those who believe that EMF meters must produce hard scientific evidence (because it sounds so technical) are not going to have their boat rocked very much.

As an introduction into critical thinking, perception, and skepticism, this book does a great job, proving to be both informative and entertaining, and even adding some useful tools to the arsenal of the public skeptic. Going straight to video clips is indeed a nice bonus, and Wiseman’s narration is engaging and charming. Additionally, there might be a distinct benefit to allowing a group of people to participate in a table-tipping séance, where any believer must be outside of their comfort zone of supportive websites, and instead within an open atmosphere where the labels of “skeptic” and “debunker” are not a constant mantra. It changes the idea of mundane explanations from the abstract to the demonstrated, with the added emphasis of others saying, “Wow, that was easy!” A well-known trait, also related within the book, is how often the responses of those surrounding us can influence our doubts. While it is easy to consider this just another side of the same coin – bowing to group dynamics that either favor or disfavor the idea of supernatural powers is still the same flaw – the idea of doubting or questioning any aspect of belief is a valid start on the road to critical thinking.

As a dedicated skeptic, however, I found the book a little too much like an appetizer rather than a main course, and wanted it to be longer and more detailed. Moreover, I suspect the subtitle, “Why We See What Isn’t There,” is likely to chase off some of the people that need to read it the most, by openly announcing its skeptical approach. I think Wiseman could do a great job with a more in-depth book on the topic, but it might need to be a wee bit sneakier in its approach.

‘Tis autumn, methinks

Al Denelsbeck


I’ve got, believe it or not, three book reviews (well, two and a half) coming up, that I want to space out, but at the moment I have nothing else handy to post. So we’ll go with some recent pics and soft music in the interim. You’ll have to provide the music.

At left, a visitor just across the road late one night, who knew I was there but wasn’t too concerned – it’s possible to exploit this if you try. Just move slowly but casually, since animals respond more to actions than appearance. Let me put it this way: if you were auditioning for a part in a play and asked to “creep up on somebody,” what would it look like? Usually, exactly what most people do when trying to photograph animals. But the animals recognize this too. If instead, you were asked to “blend in with the crowd and not attract attention,” you’d be heading in the right direction. You’d look off into the distance and seem bored or preoccupied, wander aimlessly, and do anything significant only when no one was looking. You got it.

Deer rely on each other to provide cues to danger. Browsing deer have their heads down, wander aimlessly, and look around casually. Deer sensing danger put their heads high and stare, and they know predators not only do the same, they often approach very slowly in straight lines. We can actually imitate a deer and get away with it, despite our lack of big ears and dainty hooves (well, most of us.) Many animals can actually be approached obliquely, at an angle, because that sends the signals of the herd members, not a predator.

This is higher animals, mind you. Moving sideways is often worse for stalking insects, because their vision relies on differences and you may block out a new portion of background with lateral movement, whereas slow direct movement usually does not – think in terms of looking through pebbled glass. And I currently have my own mental image right now after saying, “stalking insects,” one which involves a teeny little rifle and the nerve to stand one’s ground when the rhinoceros beetle charges…

By the way, despite what many might think, the camera strobe meant absolutely nothing to these deer, as with most animals. I do remember a meerkat at the zoo, however, who kept looking at the ceiling when the flash went off, perhaps wondering about an approaching storm…

So much for being nice

Al Denelsbeck

Atheists are often accused of not being nice, for a variety of reasons. One is, we have no outside moral guidance such as scripture, so we obviously have no morals – like morality is this unintuitive concept (hey, some people assume you are as godawful stupid as they are.) Mostly, however, it’s from the idea that we don’t let people slide on concepts like special pleading, arguments that are considered exempt from either support or logic. What’s funny is, in many ways we’ve been way too nice, and I propose that it should stop immediately. There’s such a thing as letting bullshit go on for far too long.

A prime example was recently discussed at EvolutionBlog and Why Evolution Is True. We have, yet again, some religious apologists making a case for biblical scripture being figurative, rather than either metaphorical or literal, and chastising anyone for not taking this into account. And this is simply a variation of every theological argument proposed in the last century. What’s missing, and what is always missing from every assertion of this kind, is any reason whatsoever to believe it. This discussion shouldn’t even be happening, but it is, solely because we’re being too goddamn nice about it.

Let’s pin it down specifically: the bible is wrong. The earth is not flat, the sky is not a ceiling, light comes from stars, humans evolved and are much older than scripture relates, birds did not form from the air and mammals did not form from the dirt, and on and on and on. Every last thing that it states, that was not obvious to the people living at the time, is wrong. That’s a hell of a lousy track record. We have tons of facts to support this rampant inaccuracy too. Tellingly, this is pretty well established now even among most theologians. Which is where the special cases start rolling in.

“But,” the theologians trumpet, “the bible is not meant to be taken literally!” Which is a crying shame, I think, for everyone in the fifteen to twenty centuries before they arrived at this remarkable conclusion, because every religious person did believe it was literal before then. Absolutely no one, not one theologian, proposed that scripture was not a (divinely dictated, mind you) accurate historical document – it was only when we ran into distinct issues with what was related therein that someone suddenly announced the particularly literary devices of “figurative” or “metaphor.”

Now, there are good reasons to use both figurative speech and metaphors, but only when the reader can actually see them for what they are. Mistaking them for fact means they haven’t been used effectively, which makes the bible the least successful piece of literature in history. Perhaps this means that god is indeed perfect, but his editors suck balls? [There’s a straw for the theologians to grasp desperately at, free of charge.] Moreover, figurative and metaphorical writing usually have a particular structure to them, something that easily denotes “fable” but allows the reader to make a comparison to real-world situations. In other words, they’re used for fiction. There aren’t too many historical documents written figuratively, nor any freaking reason to do so. In fact, it’s probably the last thing you would want to do when providing historical information, except for perhaps writing it in Pig Latin.

So, cards on the table and– oh, look! An elephant, right here in the room! Such claims for literary devices within scripture are simply desperate measures to try and rescue a belief system from its fatal flaws. You know it; I know it; they know it. It’s infantile and petty. Why should we have to provide some kind of respect to anyone who proposes such, as if the idea has the least little merit? Why, even, should we listen to any explanation from someone before they have managed to convince all of the other theologians, so there’s at least consistency in the approach? Does it serve some purpose to listen to every insipid guess at why such scripture appears grossly inaccurate, from someone who does not even have the basic honesty to consider that it appears inaccurate because it’s simply made up? Why, pray tell, should atheists feel obligated to be the only ones in the room with an open mind? Is this getting us anywhere?

Just blurting out some excuse isn’t enough. There has to be a reason why such a situation would be not only evident, but preferred. Seeing such aspects as “the fall” and “original sin” as only metaphors means that they do not have the properties they had when literal, which completely trashes their value in the first place. Why should anyone need a savior when the threat isn’t real? Large sections of scripture are intended, so we’re told, to be the operating manual of mankind, yet they’re wishy-washy and vague? Okay, someone may be vapid enough to believe such a premise (or, more likely, too lazy to ever examine it in the first place,) but it’s insulting to expect everyone else to be as stupid. Worse, that we’re not being fair in considering it. I’m funny this way, but I think treating a stupid idea as stupid is the very definition of fair.

A theory is not composed of one stab in the dark. It must explain all of the evidence that we have, and logically produce the results. If that legwork hasn’t been done by the supposed masterbrain forwarding the proposal, there’s no point in wasting any time at all listening to them. We should feel completely free to tell them to go home, do the whole problem, show their work, and above all, convince the majority of chuckleheads who even want to believe scripture in the first place that this is a viable theory, before attempting to put it past those who really couldn’t care less and have absolutely no use for it. Because, and I know this comes as a shock, the world works just fine without mythology, and proving scripture provides value only to those who stand to gain some power or indulgence from it. Claims of moral guidance have had two thousand years to establish themselves as valid – that’s probably a sufficient length of time to see that they’re not working as planned.

Perhaps it’s time to stop being polite by letting every nitwit with a sudden idea blather about literary devices and special rules, and instead require some distinct benefit to be proposed, from the very start. Everything else works that way. I think it’s time for theologians to grow up and take responsibility.

It’s a head-scratcher

Al Denelsbeck1 Comment

Richard Wiseman is very fond of conducting psychological research on his blog, and I have to appreciate his latest. He asks, very simply, that if you had the power to make a child either smart or pleasant (but not both,) which would you choose? I’m going to examine this a little after the jump, so if you prefer to participate unbiased by my thoughts, go there now before proceeding.

Now this is proof

Al Denelsbeck

I’ve had discussions about evidence with a lot of people, mostly in the effort to establish to them that what they were relying on as their own “proof” was questionable at best – more often simply wishful thinking. Confirmation bias is perhaps the worst trait that humans have, allowing us to assure ourselves that we’re right, without all the hassle of actually establishing it. Very efficient, perhaps, but not terribly useful.

Absolutely no one, for instance, has accomplished the level of proof that I have, just yesterday. Forget grilled cheese sandwiches and silly little shrouds; it’s really hard to argue against finding this when I was clearing out a planter from last year:

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