Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Review: "The Fifth Estate"

So I recently watched the Dreamworks production "The Fifth Estate", which is loosely based on the books WikiLeaks: Inside Julian Assange's War on Secrecy by the Guardian and Inside WikiLeaks by Daniel Domscheit-Berg:  I think I made my obsession interest with the website fairly clear back in October (if you haven't read the post, clear an hour of your time to do so); I think it's safe to say that I didn't go into this film flying blind.  And I feel pretty confident about what I liked and didn't like about it.

So, without further ado, I give you my critique:

The movie starts off on the right foot; it begins at the end, in the center of the chaos that is the publication of hundreds of thousands of classified documents, and it forces the audience to wonder "How did things ever get to this point?"

I can't think of a better way to begin such a movie, myself. It's sort of a no-brainer:  Being such recent history, the publication isn't a spoiler, and there's no way to get the audience excited about the movie to come without a lot of visible excitement.

Once the movie flashes back to 2007, though . . .

. . . it's all slush.

To begin with, the script was weak.  If you frequent WikiLeaks at all, you may be aware of a draft of the script that was leaked to the site and published there in full (along with plenty of commentary pointing out the film's inaccuracies).  Bill Condon, the director, addressed this in an interview prior to release, saying that the script bore little resemblance to the final draft that was used for filming.  Spoiler Alert:  He was lying.  The draft on WikiLeaks and the draft used in the movie are very, very similar.  I mean, some things were deleted, yes—the movie does not feature a scene with Assange idly sucking on a lemon—but nothing of significance.  If I'm perfectly honest, I have to say that Assange did moviegoers a favor leaking that script.

And, unfortunately, it's even worse in execution than in print.  The storytelling is messy, disorienting, and yet dull all at once.  It is genuinely hard to care about what's going on.  About forty minutes into the movie I found myself wondering, "Is it halfway through?" and then before the ninety minute mark had to restrain myself from skipping ahead.  The filmmakers took the story of WikiLeaks—WikiLeaks!!!—and made me not want to watch it.  That's not just embarrassing, that's criminal.

I think part of the problem is that no one in charge knew what they wanted the movie to be.  You watch it and wonder what it's really about.  Obviously it's not a documentary, and it's not supposed to be a judgment on Assange or his organization—so what is it?  Is it a thriller about whistleblowers versus big government?  Is it a bromance-gone-bad between Assange and Domscheit-Berg?  Is it a historical drama about political activism, freedom of speech, and/or the transparency movement?

No.  It's none of these things.  The movie is advertised as a thriller, but you can't really believe that—nor should you—given that the real action, up until the big finale, occurs in cyberspace.  And the story, more or less, is about two idealistic but very naïve computer nerds who go about exposing corruption till they bite off more than they can chew and the whole thing blows up in their faces—but that's okay because they've also unwittingly opened the door for a new era of journalism, a "fifth estate".

Right from the beginning you have a problem, and that's in the portrayal of the characters.  Assange and Domscheit-Berg (then Berg) are neither true to history nor believable on their own.  You see, the movie paints them as idealists—especially Berg—with little grasp of the repercussions their leaks could have.  It might work, and even be exciting, if they were in their early twenties.  But they're not, they're in their late thirties.  Grown men—the sort of men who ran WikiLeaks in real life—should understand the gravity of the situation.  It's an insult to the work of both Julian Assange and Daniel Domscheit-Berg to depict them as clueless romantics.  The men who went up against Julius Baer, the church of Scientology and Kaupthing knew the weight of the risks involved, but went ahead anyway; that's part of the reason the real thing is more exciting than the movie.  It's almost as though the director, or writer, or whomever responsible didn't appreciate the consideration or strategy that went into WikiLeaks.  Plenty of geeks can set up a website; it takes cunning to defend it against international attacks.

The character problems are also a big part of what makes the movie so hard to follow thematically.  Because the director, short of deciding what the movie should be, focuses almost exclusively on avoiding what it shouldn't:  Judging Assange.

It's a noble goal; if you're going to create a movie based on someone not only influential but still living, you should make some effort to portray them objectively.  What you should not do, however, is drive this idea into the ground till the character is inscrutable and inconsistent.

Certain things Assange does in the movie come straight from firsthand accounts, such as eating with his hands and then wiping them on his trousers, but other things are completely bogus.  Within a day of meeting Berg face to face, for example, he intimates an incredibly depressing anecdote in casual conversation.  The real Assange is known to share unnerving information about himself, often with the media, but it's almost always as a means of being funny or making himself sound more interesting, not to garner sympathy.  But the writer had to explain Assange's background somehow, and I guess flashbacks were just too difficult to work into the story.

But if the story is so important, why does it feel like so many scenes were written in with no other purpose but to put Assange in a sympathetic light?  And why do they have to be so inconsistent?  I mean, one minute he's telling Berg to buy a crypto phone, like he knows there's danger, and then the next he's horribly shocked that two of his associates are killed, as though it comes as a genuine surprise that there are risks involved.  And what was up with the whole dyeing-his-hair thing???

Is telling the real story of WikiLeaks so scary that it can't be done without leaving out anything that might spark a debate, or inventing things about the main character to keep him "balanced"?  A word of advice, then, to the filmmakers:  Next time you want to create a movie that won't upset anyone, DON'T BASE IT ON JULIAN ASSANGE.

"I know the film intends to depict me and my work in a negative light.
I believe it will distort events and subtract from public understanding."—Julian Assange
I can't fathom what the writer, or the director, were thinking.  I mean, do they have any storytelling talent?  Can't they tell when anything feels wrong??  Did they just not care???  Or did Assange somehow convince them to make a terrible movie just so he could talk smack about something?

. . . Actually, that sort of makes sense, considering how bored he must be right now.  (But I doubt he'd have the funds.)

Not all is terrible about the movie, though.  The visual analogies of the old WikiLeaks submission platform are interesting, and Carter Burwell's score is excellent—especially the piece played during the end scene.  And Benedict Cumberbatch is right to receive so much praise for playing Assange.

I still question the decision to cast him—his face is just so narrow—but if you can relax and watch the show without trying to reconcile Cumberbleach's profile to that of his character, the accuracy of the performance will sneak up on you.  Cumberbatch is already established as a master of body language, but the fact is especially clear portraying Assange.  And I'm not just referring to Assange's persistent blinking.  (If he couldn't duplicate that, the casting director would have to be shot.)  It's the walk, the poise, the shrug, the hand gestures, etc.  With little to no help from the script (or his own physicality), Cumberbatch captures the essence of his subject.

The best scene in the movie, by far, is the last one—and no, not just because it is the last.  The scene takes place in the Ecuadorian Embassy, where Assange reflects on his situation, and the "WikiLeaks movie" to a silent, off-screen interviewer.  It allows movie-Assange to give real-Assange's views on the movie, which is an interesting (if creepy) irony; the music is perfect, both heartbreaking and haunting; and Cumberbatch has the floor for the entirety of the scene, giving a monologue on the real-life topics that make the story of WikiLeaks so interesting.  So it's all the strengths and none of the weaknesses.  The finale of the movie might have been botched, but at least the conclusion was well done.  Meh.

Friday, January 3, 2014

Creationisticism

December 7, 1831.


Captain Robert Fitzroy was setting sail for the coast of South America.  He had just taken command of the H.M.S. Beagle, following the suicide of her previous commander.  Onboard was a young passenger—a student naturalist to whom the voyage was something of an extended field trip before he pursued a career as a parson.  The young man's name was Charles Darwin.


The times were ripe for scientific progress.  Europe and the brand new United States of America were leaving the Age of Enlightenment and bringing its virtues with them to the Age of Industry.  The science of the dark ages was giving way to the scientific method; the impending economic growth of the 19th century was about to give scientists both the resources and the leisure for study while the telegraph and the increasing speed in ships were to bring with them a connectivity to the world that encouraged international peer review, and social reforms allowed men to publish their work free of government or church interference.

Nevertheless, most scientists—both in Europe and America—were keen to route their research back to the bible.  James Clerk Maxwell, the father of modern physics, is said to have actually prayed during work.  Carolus Linnaeus, who penned a classification of all species known to 18th century science, wrote "one is completely stunned by the incredible resourcefulness of the Creator"(Linnaeus, the Compleat Naturalist, Wilifrid Blunt).  Gregor mendel, the father of modern genetics, was a monk who performed his pea-plant experiments out of his own monastery.  Michael Faraday, a pioneer in the realm of electricity, was a devout christian and deacon at his church.  James Joule, who presented us with the First Law of Thermodynamics—that is, that energy cannot be destroyed, it can only change forms—once wrote, "After the knowledge of, and obedience to, the will of God, the next aim must be to know something of His attributes of wisdom, power, and goodness as evidenced by His handiwork"(British Scientists of the 19th Century, J.G. Crowther, K. Paul).


Charles Darwin
It was Darwin, though, who would most radically change the face of science.  For though at the beginning of the voyage he considered himself a devout christian, (so much so the ship's crew often criticized him for it) Darwin's geological and naturalist studies over the course of the trip—particularly those conducted on the Galápagos Islands—would lead him to pen a theory of life that remained entirely independent of biblical influence.  A theory that omitted, if it did not directly deny, the presence of a Creator.  Through his observations of diversity in animals, especially of those within their own species, Darwin made the first really comprehensive leap in biology by suggesting that genetic diversity seen on a small scale might, in fact, be a part of a larger process by which all species may have diverged from a single life form millions of years prior.


He was not the first to introduce the idea of a godless universe.  There are records of atheists and atheist ideas dating back almost as far as the earliest recorded human history.  Diagoras of Melos, for example, was a greek philosopher of the fifth century (b.c.) who was forced to flee Athens for saying there were no gods.  Charles Lyell, who befriended Darwin later in life, was an atheist who promoted the idea of uniformitarianism, a theory used in most interpretations of the geological record today.

It was thought, at first, that Darwin might receive terrible persecution for his book, The Origin of Species.  Yet while many critics were quick to point out its atheist implications, overall it sent shockwaves through a populace ravenous for new ideas.  It became a widely published success before he even realized anyone was interested in it.

Darwin challenged the consensus and won.  Today, you can tune into any science-related television program to find references to natural selection and a billion-year-old earth dominating the airwaves, stated as simple fact.

And any challenge to the consensus—"Are you sure evolution isn't just a theory?"—is laughed out of the classroom.


Creationism.

Now there's a can of worms.

Before I begin, I would like to make a note of something that might appear hypocritical in a thesis regarding scientific theory:  Though I intend to approach this topic in as calm, unbiased, and straightforward a manner as I possibly can, I will nevertheless make references throughout this post to the bible and to my faith in it.  I do this for three reasons:

First and foremost, because Christ is the most important part of my life and such a post will not be exempt from the coloring that results.  I do not find that my beliefs can be compartmentalized into a safe little box in my brain marked "religion" because they might offend other people.  I believe as fact that the bible is the Word of God and that anyone who disbelieves in its validity is by extension mistaken.  Just because other people cannot quantify that for themselves does not make it my opinion.  There will come a day when one of us will turn out to be totally, objectively wrong and the other totally, objectively right.  (See: Pascal's Wager.)

Second, because it is so important that readers understand that this is my belief.  I don't want my readers confused about where my loyalties lie.  Wherever my bible be, there my views will be also.  And I don't want people to read this post and say, "Well, she may be a bit brainwashed by religion, but some of her reasoning is quite good" without seeing where the reasoning and the religion are connected.

And third, for practical reasons, to address fellow christians.

My Background:

I am a fundamentalist christian, yes.  And I attended, for two years, a private school where the theories of creation and evolution were taught side-by-side and where I determined my stance as a creationist.

But I have long believed that people can receive Christ's salvation and yet hold to a more liberal interpretation of the book of Genesis.  After all, Romans 10:9's only criteria for salvation is the confession "with your mouth that Jesus is Lord" and belief "that God raised Him from the dead"(ESV); nowhere does it make belief in a literal six-day creation a requirement.

I didn't like the way some people looked down their noses at evolutionist christians when these people had no glaringly obvious reason not to interpret scripture according to popular theory, so for a long time I was unsure that writing about Creationism was all that necessary.  But I have since changed my mind:  I think it is incredibly important that not only christians but americans as well fight for an initiative to teach creationism and darwinism alongside each other in public schools.


My Concerns:

"An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile,
hoping it will eat him last."
—Winston Churchill
As a christian, I question the church for its easy acceptance of Darwinism.  Does Genesis really translate so smoothly into billions of years?  Or has the more likely interpretation, one that implicates a six-day creation, simply been scrapped to appease our culture?  Have we forgotten that the wisdom of the world is folly (1 Corinthians 1:20) ?

Or what about when Paul says that "death came through one man" (Romans 5:12-13) ?  Doesn't that mean that Adam would have to have been created before the first death?  Then how could there be generations of natural selection causing changes and adaptations if death didn't even exist yet?

If the God of the bible is as good—and as truthful—as He claims to be, then we must be faithful to the whole of His Word.  If there is a chink anywhere, be it a scientific discrepancy or scriptural inconsistency, then the bible is entirely worthless and there is no point in defending it at all.  So christians, I think, once we have decided to serve Christ, we should do so secure in the knowledge that "all scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness"(2 Timothy 3:16).

Now, as an american, I'm deeply troubled by the refusal to teach multiple theories in the classroom.  I don't believe it is in keeping with the ideals of freedom in this country, or with the separation of church and state.  And I don't see who or what is under legitimate threat from the creationists.  With emotions running high around this topic I doubt a compromise—that is, allowing both theories impartial coverage in public schools—will be easy.  But it would be heinous to ignore the option simply because it presents ideas that some people don't like.

But then of course, a lot darwinists will tell you that it is not their feelings but the facts that make creationism inadmissible in the classroom, as it is simply not credible.  It is one of the biggest and, I think, most relevant arguments of the debate.  After all, "we don't want our kids being taught that the earth is flat, or that the holocaust never happened."(Ben Stein)

So although I don't think the heart of this issue is necessarily a scientific one, the point is  valid:  It would be ridiculous to teach children a theory disproven by science.  That's why I'd like to cover some of the highlights of the debate and let readers judge for themselves whether creationism is worth a chance.

The Science

Defining Creationism:

A lot of evolutionists tend to assume that creationists believe that there is no such thing as natural selection; that every species appears exactly as it did thousands of years ago.  I'm sure some people do think that, but it's not what I'm thinking of.

Creationism is the theory that the earth came to be during six literal 24-hour days, as explained in the bible.  Creationism does not assume that animals never change per generation, or that natural selection doesn't happen.  (The "Immutability of Species," the idea that animals never change, is not a part of the bible.)  But it does question whether animals change to the point of dividing into completely new species via macroevolution, or "speciation."

(This is an important distinction!:  Microevolution describes minor adaptations formed within a species; macroevolution describes adaptations that form entirely new species.)

Part of creationism also holds that the layers of sediment in which so many fossils are found (such as in the Grand Canyon) were laid down by Noah's flood and not gradually by millions of years.  This means that creationists also have their own theory for interpreting the geological record, called catastrophism, but I won't talk as much about that.

Now, all that being said, there are certain rumors and faulty arguments spread by the non-scientist creationists among us; so before I get to the real science I'd like to address them.

Non-Arguments for Creationism

—"They're trying to say we came from monkeys!"  Some people use this kind of reasoning to scoff at the audacity of evolutionists.  But it's an emotional blurring of arguments that are actually quite eloquent, and it's devoid of earnest scientific inquiry.  The fact that chimpanzees do not birth human babies hardly blasts a hole in darwinian logic.  This fallacy only makes creationists look like morons.

—"Where's the Missing Link?"  A lot of people like to point out that no half-human, half-ape skeleton has been found.  I give credit to Richard Dawkins for pointing out in The Greatest Show on Earth how moot this argument is—for both sides.  You could argue that the chimpanzee is a "missing link" between humans and monkeys, or that a toad is a "missing link" between frogs and something new, and so on and so forth.  There is no authority to distinguish a "proper" species from a transitional one.  The more species appear in the fossil record, the more missing links darwinists will find and the more gaps the creationists will see.

—"It couldn't have just happened!"  A lot of christians fall back on the adage that the animal kingdom contains too much complexity to have evolved by chance from single-celled organisms.  But all an evolutionist has to do is return to the notion that for each separate piece of the puzzle a million years could exist in which it happened by chance, and you will be hard-pressed to counter him.  It might be a ten million-to-one scenario, but you cannot prove it impossible.

—"Darwin renounced his theory on his deathbed!"  Please stop telling people this.  It is a bogus story proven to have no foundation whatsoever and it is an embarrassment to an infallible and truth-loving God when his followers circulate gossip simply because they like how it sounds.

— "You say the earth is billions of years old?  Well, YOU weren't there!" . . . And neither were you.  Creationists and evolutionists are all working with the same data.  If a creationist wants to make a point by indicating how unreliable evolutionist dating methods are, then he should give evidence for it.



Alright!  Now that that's out of the way, we can talk about the

Arguments for Creationism

—Vestigial Organs.  Why are there "leftover" structures in animals?  The bible says that God took the snake's legs from it in the Garden of Eden, so snakes with pelvis bones makes sense, but what about other creatures?; animals that have unnecessary organs or bones or DNA.  Don't they prove that animals evolved past those things?

Actually, you have to understand that there is no proof that extraneous DNA or organs are truly "left over" from generations of evolution, because scientists cannot even prove that the genes are as useless as they initially appear.  For example, both tonsils and the appendix were once thought to have no purpose in the body whatsoever, which we now know to be false.

Now, the mere possibility that other currently-understood-to-be-useless organs are only organs-with-uses-waiting-to-be-discovered isn't exactly proof for creationism, but it does keep the door open for multiple theories.

—Decomposition Rates vs Fossilization Processes.  It's easy to see how hard things like clams could get pressed into clay and preserved.  But big, fleshy vertebrates?  If prokaryotes (bacteria) were among the first living creatures on the planet, then surely there would be bacteria to decompose things like dinosaurs before there was time for sediment to build up around them.  A lot of evolutionists, including Richard Dawkins, admit that it's a miracle that we have any fossil record at all.  We know, however, from catastrophes like Mt. St. Helens' eruption that large quantities of rock can be laid down very quickly, so it shouldn't be so far-fetched to suggest that a global flood could create mass graves within a hundred days.

—Interdependence.  I said a moment ago that creationists should stop repeating themselves about how everything's so complex.  But there are some complexities much harder to explain away than others, because they depend on separate aspects of the organism evolving in conjunction to meet in one mechanism.  A long chain of chemical steps are taken within the eye to capture light, but why would any of the chemicals involved take root unless they served a purpose?  When put together, they achieve sight; when taken apart, they do nothing.

—Speciation.  Microevolution promotes the idea that the “survival of the fittest” produces the healthiest and most environmentally adapted members of a species.  Macroevolution suggests that members within a species, if they take different routes of adaptation, eventually become so unlike their common ancestors that they branch out into two different species, and this process is known as “speciation”.  So in the following thought experiment, I am going to demonstrate how this process must occur.

Let’s say you’ve got a population of finches on an island.  When two finches mate and meiosis splices the halves of their DNA together, things don’t go quite according to plan, and some genes in the sequence get mixed up.  Fortunately, however, their fledgling is a healthy one.  The only irregularity about her is some abnormal bone structures in her wings.

She grows into a healthy adult finch, and it turns out that her unusually shaped wings actually give her a head start over the other finches, allowing her to maneuver quicker and fly higher and so forth.  Thanks to her mutation, she survives till mating season.

"Hmmm . . .
Oh, but wait, there’s a problem—she’s a mutant, right?  She's the next stage of evolution, the first of a new species of finches that will fly higher than their cousins ever could.  Well, too bad, because if she is the first of a new species, then by the very definition of “species”, she cannot mate with the old lot.  Her genetic advances are doomed to halt in their first generation.

. . . Okay, but that’s not fair, is it?  There hasn’t really been a species split yet.  There’s still a possibility that this new mutation could diverge further down the line.

I asked my biology teacher about this particular scenario.  He told me that the the mutated population would have to be separated, most likely geographically, until generations of gradual change made them mechanically unfit for the original finches.  (I’ll let the adults figure out what that means.)

So let’s try to imagine how this might happen:  The finch, a mutant but still a mutant of this particular species of finch, lays eggs and hatches some new birds with the same advanced wing shape and the same ability to mate with the more primitive birds.  Then an earthquake splits the island in two and isolates the original population from the population with the genetic advancement.  A few more generations go by, and for whatever reason, the finches change slightly so that, should any of them ever be transplanted into the original population, they would be anatomically incompatible.

There is another problem, though.  A species is defined not only by a group of animals able to mechanically breed with one another but by a group of animals who are genetically compatible as well.  After all, great danes and chihuahuas are a part of the same species, even though they rarely have puppies.  In theory, if reunited, the two populations could swing right back into “mechanical” equilibrium.

But all is not lost.  Because now, finally, it happens—a finch with mutated wings develops another, separate mutation, one that bars her forever from breeding with her parent species, and—

Oh, wait.

It’s just adding insult to injury now:  Not only is her mutation an obstacle towards passing on genetic material, it’s got no other use whatsoever.  Natural Selection has essentially prevented all hope of producing a new species.  (Though it does not rule out the possibility that a species itself can change greatly over time.)

But in all fairness, it probably isn’t entirely impossible that speciation could still occur.  You just need two members of the same species—born in the same generation and within a mating radius of each other—to develop the ability to only mate with each other, and then for one of their offspring to, despite all odds, produce such a favorable mutation as to keep this exclusive little family in the running before they die out from inbreeding.  It’s perfectly simple.  All we need is for this to happen about a million times, once per every sexually-reproducing species on the planet, and we’re set for explaining the origins of everything.



So those are some of the big arguments in favor of creationism.  Now I'll go over some of the flaws—or, rather, misconceptions—about the theory of evolution.

Misconceptions about Evolution

Fetal Forms.  Okay, this isn't so much a misconception about evolution in general as a personal irritation with one of my high school biology textbooks.  (Glencoe Science, I believe.  They did a much better job with chemistry.)  I really hope other textbooks don't make this same mistake, but in case they do, I'd like to set the record straight, if only for the sake of darwinist integrity, about an issue that should be neutral ground:

The fact that animals looks similar in the womb has absolutely nothing to do with how they may or may not have evolved.  They may look alike when they're still half-baked lumps of flesh, but their DNA—the carrier of all evolutionary changes—will diversify them as they grow.  If there's a direct, logical link to common ancestry in this setup, then it should be made clear.  But my textbook made it sound like evolution was happening in the womb.

—"Our DNA is 98% identical to chimpanzees!"  Yes! and it's also 50% identical to bananas.  There's a lot more to what DNA does and what it means than the mere number of gene sequences coded.  (Even then, the sheer size of a single strand of DNA makes 2% far more significant than it seems.)  For example, did you know that we share the same number of chromosomes as sable antelope and barking deer (44), that the great apes have the same number as tobacco (48) and that pineapples have 50 chromosomes?

—The Infalible Magic of Radiometric Dating.  Radiometric dating is often presented as a means of measuring age with empirical infallibility when in reality . . .

. . . Well, there aren't many non-scientists who understand what radiometric dating actually is, so I'll try to take it slow and make things as clear as I possibly can.

Radiometric dating relies upon unstable elements because of their radioactive decay.  Carbon-14, for example (which is used to measure the age of fossils themselves, while uranium and potassium are used to date rocks) sheds half its mass every 5,730 years.  This period is known as a "half-life":  After one half-life you would find half the amount of Carbon-14 you had left before it began to decay, and after two half-lives you would find a quarter, and so on.

In radiometric dating, scientists observe the amount of Carbon-14 in a fossil and compare it to the amount of Carbon-12 in the same sample.  (Carbon-12 is a stable element, so it doesn't decay the way Carbon-14 does.)  It is therefore critical for the scientists to know the ratios of Carbon-12 to Carbon-14 in the atmosphere at the time of the animal's death.  When he first developed the idea of radiometric dating, Dr. Willard Libby was confident that the ratio had long remained constant.  He was later troubled to discover that the atmosphere did not appear to have achieved such a zen.

Each ring represents an increment of growth:
Scientists test samples from each ring to determine how
much Carbon 12 and 14 it absorbed from the atmosphere
the year it was formed.
Since the ratio of Carbon-14 to Carbon-12 in the atmosphere is not constant, it is necessary to have some sort of reference point documenting the ratios over the years.  Thankfully, we have that!  Scientists can take samples from the rings of trees to make such determinations, since both Carbon-14 and Carbon-12 are preserved in each ring according to the ratios of the time.

What this means, though, is that radiometric dating is only accurate when it can be compared to tree rings, making it dependent on the age of our oldest trees on record.  So carbon dating is, in fact, only accurate within 3000 years.

Moreover, trees do not produce one ring per year in a clean, demonstrable fashion.  Any one of the rings found in a tree may have taken two years to develop rather than one.

—The Infallible Magic of Radiometric Dating, Part 2: Petrified Forests.  Some darwinists have pointed out that the tree-ring record can be extended by the use of petrified forests.  Since environmental conditions affect the size and shape of rings within all the trees in a region in similar ways, by lining up the distinctive pattern at the center of a living tree with the outer pattern of a much older petrified tree, it is suggested that scientists can continue to judge the ratios of Carbon-12 and Carbon-14 within the petrified tree, and then repeat the process by lining up its early rings with the outer rings of an even older fossilized tree, and so on.
The rings of a petrified tree.

There is a problem, though.  Modern trees are only applicable as a reference point because they are living:  The cell cycle in the rings of the trees constantly replenishes the Carbon-14 therein, preserving the amounts absorbed from the era in which each ring was first formed.  Once the tree dies, the Carbon-14 begins to decay and the ratios of Carbon-12 and Carbon-14 are no longer admissible.  In other words, petrified trees lost their reliability the moment they died.

—Proof of Speciation! (sort of)  When evolutionists say they've recorded countless examples of beneficial mutations or that they've documented macroevolution in action, you can put money down that they're referring to one thing:  Bacteria.

Bacteria have proven, time and again, their ability to mutate in ways that allow them to adapt to their environment and to change drastically over thousands of generations.  But you cannot apply a rational analogy of macroevolution to other members of the animal kingdom based on the behavior of bacteria, for a few very simple reasons:

One, bacteria are asexual.  Recall the thought experiment from before, in which the finches encountered so much difficulty in their evolution.  All the issues were based around sexual reproduction.  Since a bacterium can make an independent copy of itself ad infinitum, this issue is easily nullified.

Two, when bacteria mutate—which they will actually do in direct response to their environment—they shave off gene sequences.  They don't add, they subtract.  (This is usually the case with mutations among sexual creatures as well.)  So in fact mutations are more likely to destroy DNA than to build it up.  (And the mutations recorded among "higher" animals are anything but beneficial.)

—The Miller-Urey Experiment.  In 1953, Stanley Miller famously set up an experiment designed to simulate the conditions of a pre-historic earth to determine if organic compounds could be "sparked" into existence; the results were favorable enough to warrant reiterating the story in biology textbooks to promote faith in the theory of evolution, but in reality, while about 20 amino acids were produced, no nucleic acids appeared.  The success of this experiment is not negligible, but I would like to point out that it is debatable.



Alright, so by now I hope I've established the potential for creationism as a legitimate scientific theory.  But I know that's not enough.  There are plenty of arguments far removed from science that bar it from public acknowledgement.  Mainly to do with religion.

Separation of Church and State

The movie Expelled—a documentary hosted by Ben Stein that promotes creationism, or "intelligent design" in the classroom—allows for the idea that creationism (a strictly biblical interpretation) and intelligent design (a more agnostic approach) can be distinguished as such for the sake of removing religion from the picture.  But I think this is merely a sweetener  to better sell the idea of legitimizing creationism.

Perhaps we could make that distinction and teach intelligent design instead of creationism, but at the heart of this debate is and always has been a conflict of world views:  You say the world is self-produced, I say there's a Creator.  It would be ridiculous to deny that the most zealous proponents of creationism are fueled by religion or that its most zealous opponents are typically of an atheists.  Make no mistake about what sort of issue this is.

(Note:  That doesn't necessarily mean all critics of evolution are religious.  Michael J. Behe, author Darwin's Black Box, goes into great detail about some of the flaws in the theory without bringing any faith of his own to the table.)

So the most restrictive argument against teaching creationism is the accusation that it—creationism—is little more than a ploy to impose religion on people.  If creationists wanted to teach just creationism, I would agree in a heartbeat, but that's not what we want at all, we want a fair presentation of the facts from both viewpoints so that students can a) understand how bias can color the interpretation of science, and b) determine for themselves which theory is more credible.

What many forget is that while atheism may not itself be a "religion," it is still a stance thereon—it occupies the same space.  Christianity is a more obvious threat because it has a Face, but atheism is, nevertheless, a position, not an objective go-between as so many seem to assume.  Agnostics are the ones who don't presume to know anything; atheists presume to know that there is no God.  It is not a non-belief, it is a belief in nothing.

But as of the past few decades, our society seems to have come to the conclusion that science, by its very definition, can only observe what is strictly natural, lest it trip upon something "unscientific," like divine intervention.  And this demands the world remain, above all things, completely autonomous: If there were any "loose ends" (like miracles) that could be traced back to a power existing outside the bounds of the material, then we would be practicing bad science.

In other words, the scientific community defines the legitimacy of science not based on its what it does but on what it says.  The methods may be sound, but if the conclusions don't imply what they're supposed to, something must be wrong.

It's a vicious cycle:  Science is naturalistic, ergo scientists must adhere only to atheistic theories, and so all of their conclusions are interpreted atheistically, which "proves" science is naturalistic, ergo scientists must adhere only to atheistic theories, and so on.  But without this cycle, we might have to consider the possibility of a deity, and the scientific community cannot be permitted to provide evidence that might lead people to believe things they could otherwise choose to ignore!

This isn't scientific: The reasoning is based on what people want to believe or not believe, not on the potential of the research.

And it isn't true to the spirit of the separation of church and state, either:  Such laws are set down to prevent the government from deciding how (or if) we worship.  A government that decides only to teach darwinian evolution—and teach it as fact—essentially dictates atheism, regardless of whether it is scientifically sound or not.

By favoring the side that blocks out God, the government is ensuring that children believe all religion to be unintelligent.  You are still allowed, under the first amendment, to believe in a deity, just not in His ability to affect the world.  Because scientists have accounted for everything with natural explanations—haven't they?


If, however, we were permitted to teach both theories in the classroom, we would not only be more honest with our children—because both theories do have merit—but we would stop the state from trying to persuade us of what to believe.  Isn't that a good thing?  I thought we liked freedom of thought in America.  This would let people know that rational religion is actually a choice, not an impossibility.

Conclusion

It's easy to slam the door on the religious fanatics.  Hollywood likes to paint a politically correct picture of nice, friendly churches where people can come and listen to nice stories and feel good about themselves, but that's not really how people see us—not us fundamentalists, anyway.  Take a hint from Firefly:

"What can I say?  People like a man of God."
"No, they don't.  Men of God make people feel guilty and judged."

CAPTAIN MALCOLM REYNOLDS
Your argument is invalid.
Fundamentalists say God won't let you alone.  Fundamentalists say that you were born a sinner and you need help.  Fundamentalists say that if the bible is true, then you can't go to heaven unless you actually ask Jesus for forgiveness and accept Him as your Savior.  Dangerous stuff; let them keep talking like that and they might actually, I dunno, convince people.  Then we'd have MORE people talking like that.

The church makes people uncomfortable.  There's no doubt about that.  But just because atheists disagree with what we have to say, can they in good conscience oppose our right to say it?  Is that the american dream?  The way I see it, our nation's principles dictate the freedom of information, which would encourage the already-important freedom of religion.  If (and this is a big if, I know) the majority of children who grow up in this system choose fundamental christianity, then yes, the system will favor their votes.  Not because christianity is a force for world-domination but because this is a democracy, and a democracy honors the majority.  The worst that can come of teaching creationism is the preservation of american values.

BUT!only if creationism is taught with darwinism, along with any other major theory produced by the scientific community.  That's the point:  Not just religious freedom through intellectual freedom, but intellectual freedom for the sake of intellectual freedom.  God has always honored free will, ever since He exposed Adam and Eve to the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  Christians should have faith enough to take similar risks and allow children access to both theories.  Yes, some of them may decide they like darwinism better than creationism, but that's not for us to worry about.  You can share God's Word and God's love, but you cannot and should not force anyone to think a certain way by cutting them off from an alternative school of thought!

As of this moment, however, the real issue is getting creationism into school in the first place.  And I don't see why we can't make this happen.  From a scientific standpoint we'd be encouraging open-mindedness and realism, and from an american standpoint we'd be encouraging freedom of information and of religion.  We already know that creationism has scientific merit, so there shouldn't be a problem if people start to side with it; and if it really doesn't seem as plausible as darwinism, then this way people can see it for themselves before they even leave school and the whole debate would be locked down.  This theory is only a "threat" because it challenges the consensus.  In the same way Darwin challenged the consensus with his "Origin of Species".  Are we still a people capable of self-evaluation and scientific interest?  Or has creationism been deemed intolerable?

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Just Google It

It may just be all the WikiLeaks I've been smoking, or the fact that I'm the type of person so opposed to change that I refused to change my clocks for Daylight Savings Time till I was in high school, but I don't trust Google.  It's way too easy to compare it to a virus with late-stage symptoms: Infect everything first, then start charging money.

I would make these observations on YouTube, where it is now compulsory to create a Google+ account for the privilege of posting comments, except that I refuse to create such an account and cannot therefore comment about it.  I know I'm only cutting myself off and have no one else to blame for it.  But I already had to disentangle myself from a Google account to which I hadn't even realized I was signing myself, and now Google has its preliminary hooks in me—which, ironically, is the reason I'm even able to write this blog—and I don't want to get in any deeper than I have to.  Besides, it's a matter of principle.  Or thickheaded stubbornness.  Whichever.

Here's my problem with the situation:  The Internet—bless its terrifying, unfettered disarray of a soul—is the greatest agent of free speech we have in what we call the free world.  And now it's become the necessity of every functioning member of such a society to have access to it.  So if you cut off freedom of speech from the internet it's like cutting off circulation from the heart.

It seems impossible to americans, because our government is subject to our scrutiny (when we take the time to watch it) and because it's supposed to protect the first amendment—and because the internet is already so far along, how could anyone possibly hope to contain it?

But it's not as far-fetched as you might think.  Many countries, like Australia and Germany, have actually tried to pass laws enabling mass censorship by making filters—the kind typically used by parents to protect their children from unwanted content—mandatory.  Once such filters are set up, it's not a huge leap for governments or corporations to pick and choose what "extraneous" material they'd like to see blocked from public view.  (Even, say, blogs that try to point out the hypocrisy of the lists . . .)

And then in the case of Google, it is not the government but a corporation taking control.  And let me remind you, corporations recognize no laws save the law of Supply and Demand.  Not in this country.  Okay, yes, we do have things like rules about minimum wage and such, but for the most part we're a pretty straightforward capitalist nation.  —Which, by the way, I pretty much agree with:  Just as the freedom to say what you want is important, so is the freedom to spend what you want.  But now we have this interesting dilemma on our hands, where one might actually infringe upon the other.

And I find it somewhat ironic, if not directly intriguing, that the corporation in question is Google, famous first and foremost for its search engine, the search engine so widely used that the verb "google" had to be added to the dictionary.  The same company that informs millions of people about what the internet has to say is now the company that decides who gets a say on YouTube, one of the most popular websites in existence.  The common man, having become virtually helpless to learn anything without Google, could potentially become dependent on Google to say anything as well.

Imagine a world where everyone has to pay a fee and provide personal information to a faceless organization, just for the privilege of adding their thoughts to the only media pool anyone really consults anymore.  Imagine if this faceless organization accepted money from other companies in exchange for access to personal information.  How far might it go?  What if the organization started taking money for censoring comments that displeased its clients?  . . . Frankly, I think a better question would be, How far have things gone already?

Who has your personal information?  We already know the government enjoys its internet surveillance (thank you, Snowden) and now we see freedom of speech limited by our willingness to cooperate with Google!  We don't have to pay for it yet, but what happens when we do?  If anyone knows how to stop this from happening I'd love to hear about it.

(. . . And, while you're at it, could you also tell me what it is exactly that Google provides, besides a massively popular search engine, that has made it so indispensable?  Because I seem to remember having an email, social network, and YouTube account long before Google came along and produced worse versions of all of them.)

We think of the internet as an autonomous, objective network of organized chaos—"the largest experiment in anarchy that we have ever had"(Eric Schmidt).  At the moment, it is.  But even as it provides us with near-infinite freedom of speech it also swiftly becomes our only effective outlet for that freedom, and under such circumstances we become enslaved to it.  We become a society that has no choice but to accept what it googles.  So we can either learn an innovative new form of mass-communication that doesn't involve Wi-Fi, or we can find some way of keeping our internet in a state of glorious and unbridled anarchy, free of censorship.  It's our choice.