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Gonzalez and Richards Chapter Sixteen

Assumptions and implications are not the same thing

Posted Tuesday, January 03, 2006 by Gerald Vreeland

Chapter 16 of the book is entitled: “The Skeptical Rejoinder.”  It deals with 14 major objections and so I’ll get right on with the sub-title: “Yes, But What About. . .?” 

The first one, I’ve dealt with briefly before and shows up in this form:

 

1.         It’s impossible to falsify your argument. 

 

Part of G & R’s rules of engagement is to dignify the challenges of their opponents.  That will, of course, be easier in some cases than others.  I can hardly fault these guys as polemic in their presentation.  However, with the pseudo-intelligentsia, I think a strong forensic backhand is sometimes in order.  It seems that the only place where they get a bit tart is once in the endnotes where Gonzalez gives a surly David Darling much less than he deserves for his shifting the discussion from physics to metaphysics: “One also gets the impression that Darling doesn’t know the difference between an empirical and an ad hominem argument” (p. 398, n. 15).  Be that as it may, both physics and metaphysics must ultimately submit themselves to the discipline of philosophy.  Regardless, you will see which of these contentions I think are hardly worthy of dignity, I’m sure. . . . 

 

I have already answered this contention personally: simply, every time we find an exo-planet we are afforded opportunity to falsify the argument.  When the planet proves to be uninhabitable due to excessive gravitation, orbital eccentricity or torpid radiation, etc., we prove the argument to be true.  Be that as it may, the sample is somewhat, shall we say, astronomical, no?  To prove the argument with 100% certitude (were that possible) would require, of course, a 100% sampling of every potentially inhabitable celestial body.  But the charge of non-falsifiablity is certainly much less true of G & R than it is for string-theory or multiple universe theory wherein it is impossible to receive any data from alternate universes much less falsify them empirically – er, as it were. . . .   Well, what do G & R have to say about the non-falsifiable? 

 

The specific contention addressed is specificity.  That is, the opponents would wish for 100% correspondence between habitability and measurability.  Unfortunately, they are, of course, unwilling to provide even 1% certitude for the existence of alternate universes; so, their contention is unfair.  However, our authors do not often address the hypocrisy of their colleagues. 

. . . if one considers conditions for measurability in isolation, it’s easy to come up with apparent counterexamples.  It’s important to emphasize that we have not argued that every condition is individually optimized for measurability from Earth’s surface. Our claim is that our habitable environment is an exceptional compromise of diverse conditions for measurability ranging from cosmology and galactic astronomy to geophysics, and that those same conditions are also important for habitability (pp. 313-4, emphasis theirs). 

The authors then point out to us that the more sophisticated the theory the more resistant it is to simple refutation.  Then they point out that there are some ways in which the theory could be damaged. 

 

            The most decisive way to falsify our argument as a whole would be to find a distant and

            very different environment that, while quite hostile to life, nevertheless offers a superior

            platform for making as many diverse scientific discoveries as does out local environment. 

            The opposite of this would have the same effect – finding an extremely habitable and

            inhabited place that was a lousy platform for observation (p. 314). 

 

Then comes a short list of things that would ventilate the theory but not completely derail it: “. . . discovering intelligent life inside a gas giant with an opaque atmosphere, near an X-ray-emitting star in the galactic center, or on a planet without a dark night would do it serious damage” (p. 314).  Earlier they suggested that “if intelligent extraterrestrial beings exist, they probably enjoy good-to-perfect solar eclipses.  If we were to find complex, intelligent, indigenous life on a planet without a largish natural satellite, however, this plank in our argument would collapse” (p. 314).  In addition, life there would have to have arisen rather quickly because the “largish natural satellite” seems to be required to keep planetary rotation and revolution from synchronizing.  “Our argument presupposes that all complex life, at least in this universe, will almost certainly be based on carbon.  Find a non-carbon-based life form, and one of our presuppositions collapses” (p. 314).  In my opinion, that was a little sloppier than necessary and I would reword the last sentence as follows: Find a complex, technological non-carbon-based life form, and one of our presuppositions collapses. 

 

The authors then suggest that any discovery in astro-biology will have some bearing on the theory.  But the knife cuts both ways, because, “If we find still more strict conditions that are important for habitability, this will strengthen our case” (p. 315).  The issues are two: more and strict.  As they wrote (over the course of about three years – something that hatchet job reviewers simply cannot appreciate), a new one (more) was discovered having to do with the spin of a magnetic planetary core.  My suspicion has more to do with the issue of narrowness.  I personally suspect that we will discover that stellar- and galactic-habitable-zones will become increasingly narrower. 

 

One lauds, at this point, the authors’ candor: “Our argument may be wrong, but it’s certainly not unfalsifiable” (p. 315).  I doubt that their argument is wrong; but, it is certainly given an opportunity for falsification each time we find an (heretofore uninhabitable) exo-planet. 

 

2.         It’s inevitable.  Whatever environment we found ourselves in, we would find

            examples conducive to its measurability. 

 

This is like the old saw and now latter-day bumper sticker logic: “Wherever you go, there you are.”  The fact is simple: we are, in fact, here and when we find them there, we will have another sample from which to draw upon.  Although I would be unwilling to dignify such a rejoinder, our authors say the following in the form of a purely hypothetical argument:

 

            No doubt it’s true that if we were in another environment, with different conditions, then

            whatever discoveries we made would be made on the basis of those conditions. 

            Scientific geniuses would come up with clever ways of testing their hypotheses, no

            matter what their environment.  And we will inevitably base any argument we make on

            the conditions we know from our actual setting, not the conditions we don’t know.  So

            initially it might appear that we are simply under the illusions of a selection effect (p.

            315, italics theirs, I emphasized the hypothetical language to prove my point). 

 

After a long anecdotal illustration on salted stroll paths, the authors indicate the nature of the argument, the contention and the state of the data: “. . . we can reflect on the conditions necessary for such discoveries, and then compare those conditions with conditions in other settings” (p. 316).  The authors indicate that it is both easier to breathe and see through a transparent atmosphere.  They indicate that, at least in one solar system, such an atmosphere is rare wherein both things pertain: transparency for astronomical observation and facility for inhaling.  We can make other such comparisons with our planetary neighbors and now, increasingly, with exo-planets.  We can compare properties of our sun with other stars.  We can compare our location with the location of other potentially habitable places.  We can even make more sweeping speculations about the conditions past and future relative to habitability.  We can dream up procedures and techniques to evaluate any hypothesis we come to based upon our observations and “So we aren’t simply captive to our local conditions. . .” (p. 316). 

 

The authors note that the reason we can make such comparisons is because our situation is conducive to observation.  A murky atmosphere simply would not do.  An observer on such world would probably never think of making such correlations: he would be forced to think himself alone in the universe. 

 

            As we learn to make more and more such comparisons, and comparisons that would have

            been impossible to make from other environments, this selection-effect objection grows

            less and less tenable (p. 317). 

 

Indeed, were it not for our ability to infer from our present condition, we might still think there was the possibility for complex, technological life on our neighboring planets . . . without first terre-forming them. 

 

3.         Well, then, it’s just a selection effect of a different sort.  There are phenomena we

            cannot observe or measure.  The argument is biased toward measurable

            phenomena. 

 

I put this one in the category of the “what would it be if it wasn’t” argument.  In short, there are some things we probably haven’t thought of yet; but, as to whether or not this impinges upon the argument remains to be seen.  “Again, however, the argument is overstated” (p. 317).  The authors then tell us that we are not locked into a box of Kant’s making wherein only those things apprehensible to the five senses exist. 

 

            . . . we can’t determine the distance and properties of some astronomical objects.  But we

            know they exist, since we can detect them either directly or indirectly, and we know that

            we don’t know their distances or many of their intrinsic properties.  We can compare the

            objects in this category with the objects we can both detect and measure, and make

            generalizations about our ability to measure generally [sic (p. 317)]. 

 

Other than the redundant redundancy of the statement, we should probably accept it!  For instance, the whole business of exo-planets is a matter of indirect observation (brown dwarves excepted).  Because of irregularities in the motions of the stars we can tell that something larger than a breadbasket is tugging on them and making them wobble or dimming their light.  Hence, we make the educated guess that there is a large celestial body pulling on a star the same way our planets pull on the sun. 

 

I suppose that the surly surrejoinder to my thoughts on string-theory and multiple universes is that imagination takes over until the data accrue. 

 

            . . . we are not so bereft of imagination that we can conceive only of those things we

            directly perceive.  If nature is regular in its operation, which we have every reason to

            believe, then we have some justification for extrapolating what we don’t see from what

            we do see.  Theory often predicts the existence of certain objects prior to their discovery,

            such as additional planets, white dwarfs, black holes, the cosmic background radiation,

            and neutrinos.  For fairly secure theories, we can imagine what conditions would allow us

            to detect such objects.  We can then determine whether our environment allows us to do

            so and compare it with other settings in the universe.  And this has happened numerous

            times in the past.  It is striking how often physicists are able to devise a way to detect

            entities that are initially predicted for theoretical reasons (pp. 317-8). 

 

I think the operant denominator would be the words “fairly secure theories.”  Some theories gain certitude as time advances.  As they do, the theory and the math become more compelling.  When observation finally catches up with the theory, it is confirmatory in nature – or it is disproved summarily by something heretofore unthought-of. 

 

4.         You’re cherry-picking.  You have used a biased sample to argue for the correlation. 

 

This is based on the old adage: “selective observation, selective interpretation.”  There was an old barb when I was in college that the final in Physics was “Define the universe, give three examples.”  I really do not know how much closer Gonzalez and Richards could come to defining and giving three examples for a universe than this and so throwing “cherry-picking” at the wall is not likely to adhere well. 

 

General theory has a tendency to overlook the details and so the authors both dignify and counter the “cherry-picking” charge with the claim that they have selected not every item of relevant data, but the most important pieces of data. 

 

            We haven’t chosen obscure experiments or conditions of measurability that have little

            importance for science.  For instance, it’s difficult to overestimate the importance of a

            transparent atmosphere and visible stars for astronomy, or sedimentary processes for

            geology.  Any astrophysicist would admit the historical importance of perfect total solar

            eclipses in the development of stellar physics.  No cosmologist would deny the

            importance of detecting the redshift of distant galaxies, or the cosmic background

            radiation for our knowledge of the history of the universe.  . . . other scientists have

            noticed evidence of the correlation, although none have developed the argument as we

            have.  This makes it less likely that we’re creating the correlation out of thin air (p. 318). 

 

They do not leave us hanging: they speculate that an identifiable subset of gamma ray bursts will one day be a more useful standard candle than TypeIa supernovae for measuring the universe.  They also suggest that erosion and other geophysical processes have erased much evidence for the early history of life.  “The origin of life is a particularly important question.  It would be surprising, assuming the correlation, if it could not be investigated” (p. 319).  Perhaps it might be that such evidence is afforded by continued lunar exploration.  The authors also suggest that because carbon and oxygen correspond so well to what we already know of measurability, they will appear as features in future discoveries as well.  Finally:

 

            In contrast, the Copernican and Anthropic Principles in their most unrestrained

            manifestations seem much less useful.  Positing the existence of multiple universes, for

            instance, doesn’t offer many fecund research programs within our universe.  It looks

            designed primarily to foreclose certain unwelcome metaphysical possibilities (p. 319). 

 

And that is exactly the position (though not the conclusion) in the current issue of Astronomy (January 2006) in Bob Berman’s “Strange Universe” article.  Enough speculation in the void! [Literally!]  It is time to move on to real research wherein one can present the data and let the gallery decide. 

 

5.         Your argument is too speculative.  It is based on guesses and a thin empirical base. 

 

Of course, such a cavalier dismissal is given by those who look at exactly as much and the same evidence as we do, but are predisposed to discount the theological implications of the argument.  Quite simply: intricacy and order – if we found it any place else in the universe, we would assume someone built it and probably for a purpose. . . . 

 

            Most of the examples we have selected are based on well-understood phenomena, and

            they are founded on abundant empirical evidence.  . . . the properties of our atmosphere,

            solar eclipses, sedimentation processes, tectonic processes, the characteristics of the

            planets in the Solar System, stellar spectra, stellar structure, and our place in the Milky

            Way galaxy (p. 319). 

 

The authors are quick to admit that there is a change in the acquisition of knowledge . . . both quantity and rate of acquisition.  These things include: “. . . extrasolar planets, additional requirements for habitability, and a host of insights in the field of cosmology” (p. 319).  But despite all this, the authors seem to think that the evidence is merely mounting up on their side of the equation.  At this juncture, I agree. 

 

The authors admit that there is an increased level of speculation in respect to Circumstellar Habitable Zones and the Galactic Habitable Zone(s).  However, they seem yet confident:

 

            While we can’t yet estimate the precise boundaries of these habitable zones, present

            published studies are almost certainly still missing many relevant factors, which, when

            eventually included, will reduce their sizes, and strengthen our argument (p. 319). 

 

They conclude this section by admitting the vulnerability involved in making predictions.  Should those zones be actually larger, the argument is weakened. 

 

6.         Your argument is too subjective.  It lacks the quantitative precision necessary to

            make a convincing case. 

 

We’re groping here: it would seem that if every bit of data accrued is accommodated by the theory, then there is no particular problem with subjectivity.  However, our authors choose the high road and suggest that were  habitability/measurability indices produced, not only would the correlation still be manifest, but they would have solidified their argument in design theory. 

 

The authors indicate that there is a charge behind the charge; that is, subjectivity is a thinly veiled charge of arbitrariness or cherry-picking, as indicated above (number 4).  However, one might merely look at the options.  Let us suppose the option were given to live close to the black hole at the center of some super-massive galaxy as over against out here in clear water, as it were, where we can get a pretty good look at things.  The authors conclude that it is better to be out here because we would not be able to evaluate the background radiation from the galactic core due to gravity, radiation and junk – besides there are a lot of them we might examine from a safer distance.  Conversely, the background radiation is a group of one . . . here, now and valuable for three things: “. . . (1) it is unique, (2) it gives us fairly direct information on the overall properties of the universe, and (3) it gives us a glimpse of the origin of the universe” (p. 320).  So, say G & R, bring on the quantified analyses and revel in the project. 

 

7.         How can you have a correlation with a sample size of one? 

 

If someone asked me this question, I think I’d have to ask them if they’d looked at the plethora of data.  The correlations are within the existing and well known sample; the inferences are to other situations in the universe.  Even if we were to take what we know of those other situations and reason to some conclusions, we would still find, most likely, that the correlations exist. 

 

Be that as it may, the authors begin with their assumption – as yet not disproved – that “. . . life in the universe will almost surely resemble life on Earth, at least at the biochemical level, and a planet very much like ours is probably required for technological life” (p. 320).  They claim that the deductions have been made from “knowledge from a broad range of disciplines to consider a broad range of environments” (pp. 320-1).  They conclude that inferences have been made from knowledge rather than ignorance. 

 

For example, with knowledge of stellar astrophysics and climatology, we can ask

whether a planet around an M dwarf is more or less habitable and offers more or less

opportunity for discovery than Earth.  Similarly, with our knowledge of galactic

astronomy, we can ask how position in the Milky way affects habitability and the

measurability of the local and distant universe (p. 321). 

 

And so we conclude: there is a sample size of one and then again there is a sample size of one.  One presents a disadvantage; but the one we propose presents incredible advantages for both hanging out and looking about. . . . 

 

8.         Since life needs complexity, the correlation is trivial.  The greater the complexity,

            the greater the chance for a correlation between habitability and measurability. 

 

A lot of this contention will come down to terms: there is complexity, but there must be enough structure to hang complex, technological life on and that removes triviality from the equation.  However:

 

            . . . mere complexity does not clearly correlate with either habitability or measurability. 

            For instance, an opaque, chaotic atmosphere like Jupiter’s is not obviously less complex

            than Earth’s.  . . . a stable planetary system with nine major planets in fairly circular

            orbits is not clearly more complex than an uninhabitable one with a swarm of diverse and

            irregular planets in various eccentric orbits.  A gas giant planet with several moons of

            various sizes and orbital parameters is surely more complex than Earth with its single,

            large Moon.  Having a perfect solar eclipse does not require a high degree of complexity

            compared with other possible systems of moons.  A relatively circular galactic orbit, like

            our own, is less complex than a wildly elliptical orbit that traverses several different

            galactic regions and is frequently perturbed by the gravitational forces of nearby massive

            objects.  A binary and triple star system is more complex than a singleton like the Sun. 

            The chaos of two, colliding, irregular galaxies is more complex than the orderly spiral of

            the Milky Way galaxy (pp. 321-2). 

 

Complexity is not the only issue: the complexity must exhibit a specification or a telling pattern.  It is within this pattern that the rare conditions for habitability and measurability correlate. 

 

9.         There may be separate pathways significantly different from ours leading to equally

            habitable environments. 

 

This argument, although reoccurring, is somewhat outdated.  Our authors indicate that (besides being the bailiwick of science-fiction) most discoveries in the last half-century have gone against it.  “Detailed knowledge of other planets in our Solar System, theoretical understanding of habitable zones, and the discovery of many examples of fine-tuning in physics and astrophysics all make it less likely that an environment very different from ours would be just as habitable” (p. 322).  It is the authors’ belief that that the constellation of evidence that they have presented is indicative of a near optimal environment for both things: habitability and measurability. 

 

In addition, “Recent discoveries about extremophiles notwithstanding, it is beginning to look as though even the most Earth-like locales in the Solar System are too hostile for simple life” (p. 322).  We should also remember that for complex and technological life the parameters are much more fine than for some proposed extremophiles, or other simple life.  They offer, however, the following caveat: “We can’t rule out the possibility of significantly different habitats elsewhere, but someone will have to offer a realistic example to move this out of the realm of baseless assertion” (p. 322).  Of course, we have already discussed the idea of silicon- or other-based life forms; but it seems that the more we know, the more certain that carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, air, water and such will be required for the matrix of life.  It is, however, a good objection (separate pathways to equally habitable environments, in case you lost me) should it prove to be supported by other data, “. . . since finding a form of life significantly different from the water- and carbon-based life we know would compromise our argument” (p. 322). 

 

10.       Your argument is bad for science because it encourages skepticism about

            cosmology. 

 

Oh, brother!  Unfortunately, because these guys are public personalities, I suspect that they have really gotten such a contention.  If that is the state of the discussion, cosmology deserves whatever skepticism it receives.  The only thing bad for science that I know of is the closed mindedness of reigning high-clerics of scientism: a.k.a. University Professors.  Because cosmology is as much philosophy as it is science, perhaps it should be put in the balance and found wanting. 

 

“Cosmologists often claim that we must assume our location is unexceptional for theoretical reasons, since it allows us to extrapolate from the part of the universe we can see to the parts we can’t see” (pp. 322-3).  Working from Martin Rees’ theory of a “tractable” universe, our authors expose the assumptions of an Unprivileged Planet:

 

First, Space is homogeneous.  Second, Space is isotropic (it looks the same from every point, or alternatively, there is no privileged point or direction).  Third, The laws of physics are the same everywhere.  Because, Rees’ first contention is special pleading (“. . . overall uniformity . . . [yet] . . . allowing the formation of galaxies, clusters and superclusters. . . [quoted, p. 323]), G & R go after it and remind us that “space isn’t homogenous at the size of people, planets, stars, galaxies, or clusters of galaxies” (p. 323).  Secondly,

 

How the universe looks depends profoundly on one’s location in both space and time.  In

fact, the most overreaching manifestation of the cosmological principle was called the

perfect cosmological principle, which stated that every time in the universe is just like

any other.  The perfect cosmological principle inspired the various Steady State models,

and met the same demise (p. 323). 

 

It is only the third principle enumerated above, that has observational support.  But the sword is of a double edge: because laboratory observations may be projected upon the distant universe with some degree of accuracy, we can make statements about the universe and cosmology in general without any recourse to the first two flawed assumptions.  So their argument does not prove that we cannot make generalizations about the universe from a privileged position in it:

 

            . . . a superficially similar, but contrary assumption is needed – that what we see is a

            good, accurate sample and representation of the universe as a whole.  Perhaps we can dub

            this the Discovery Principle.  According to this principle, since so many aspects of our

            situation have proved to benefit measurability, we can reasonably expect to find other

            such instances that allow us to gain access to information that reveals the universal laws

            of physics, as well as the variety of small and large structures in the universe (p. 324,

            emphasis mine). 

 

My suspicion is that this Discovery Principle is what the authors really wanted to say, since this section is much longer than the others and since the second author is V.P. and Senior Fellow of the Discovery Institute.  They would word the principle as follows: “We should be optimistic that the parts of the universe we can’t see are relevantly similar to the parts we can see (from our privileged vantage) (p. 324, italics theirs).  The authors believe their Discovery Principle properly qualifies the cosmological principle.  It maintains the mathematical elegance of General Relativity while allowing for structural diversity as observed from a tiny, privileged location. 

 

And so back to the contention at hand: the authors note that discoveries do not come cheaply and so the Discovery Principle’s optimism is a collateral benefit as against the allegation of cosmological skepticism.  To make discoveries, we simply must have a privileged location rather than a mediocre one.  Whatever the case, it beats living on a gas giant!  Again, whatever the case, it beats living on a planet with several tiny moons that do nothing to keep its rotation from synchronizing. 

 

            . . . we don’t have merely to assume that we enjoy such a position.  It’s just what the

            evidence suggests, at least within the region we know.  In contrast, a generalized

            Copernican Principle would subvert our justification for doing cosmology (p. 325). 

 

In addition, the Discovery Principle does not have to postulate zones with rules and properties that are different from our own.  “. . . cosmology . . . is a valid enterprise only if we are correct in assuming that the observable universe to which we have privileged access is a representative sample” (p. 325).  The authors then go on, hopefully, to hypothetical explorations prior to the decoupling of matter and energy to explore the origins of the universe prior to what is indicated by the background radiation.  Studies in theoretical particle physics and gravitation may indicate times less than 300 thousand years after the initial inflation or Big Bang. 

 

11.       General Relativity appears to be a superfluous law of nature, which is not obviously

            required for habitability.  Yet it is an important part of science.  Does this not

            contradict the correlation? 

 

Maybe so, maybe no.  Because GR has to do with light speed, it seems that it may be a little less superfluous than the question assumes.  Could everything you needed to know about cosmology, but were afraid to ask, have been determined by Newtonian physics? 

 

            True, GR seems far removed from our everyday affairs, but it does affect element

            production, coalescence of neutron stars and black holes, and the immediate environment

            around giant black holes in the nuclei of galaxies.  More work is needed to examine the

            connections between these processes and life.  Since life is sensitive to the cooling rate of

            our universe, perhaps a Newtonian universe would fail to meet this requirement (p. 326). 

 

Another point is that GR may be related to “the theory of everything.” 

 

            But for all we know, GR is necessary in a universe with the same number of space and

            time dimensions, laws, and/or forces as ours.  If and when we discover the more

            fundamental law or laws that would unite the various forces and reconcile relativity and

            quantum theory, relativity theory might strike us [as] an inevitable and essential

            outgrowth of the whole, like the light-gathering leaves of a tree (p. 326). 

 

It could be that it is a building block to the next theory as was its Newtonian predecessor.  But even if in this one detail, there is a superfluous law of nature it does not apparently undercut the whole Discovery Principle.  “There might be facts about the universe that are useful for measurability that aren’t directly related to habitability.  This doesn’t refute the claim that the conditions for both overlap to a suspicious, seemingly specified degree” (p. 327). 

 

12.       The correlation isn’t mystical or supernatural, since it’s the result of natural

            processes. 

 

In the present case, that is a correct assessment of what the authors are trying to bring to us.  “. . . we have not argued that the correlation between habitability and measurability is the result of what philosophers call direct ‘agent causation’ within the natural world” (p. 327).  The argument assumes a different starting point.  Is it rational or is it empirical?  Do we start from observations or do we start from metaphysics? 

 

            We claim that the correlation forms a meaningful pattern, which, while perhaps

            embedded in nature’s laws and initial conditions, still points to purpose and intelligent

            design in the cosmos.  The issue here is not whether there are natural laws, parameters,

            and initial conditions, but whether evidence of design and purpose could be built into

            them (p. 327). 

 

Newton: “The most beautiful system of the sun, planets, and comets, could only proceed from the counsel and dominion of an intelligent and powerful Being” (quoted, p. 327).  It might be repugnant to some, but the more intricacy and order we discover the more suspicious the claim becomes.  The more we approach a case of one, or as the authors note one chance in 10180, the more suspicious the claim becomes.  Probability theory aside, the working assumptions necessary to even arrive at a single case of complex, technological life is astounding! 

 

In addition, the idea of getting stability for the time necessary to evolve – should that be the case – or the time necessary to survive – should that prove to be the case, is astounding.  It simply shouldn’t happen anywhere, from what we know.  Be that as it may, the authors’ case does not rest on either statistics or clockwork fine-tuning, it rests on the correlation between habitability and measurability. 

 

13.       You haven’t really challenged naturalism.  You’ve just challenged the idea that

            nature doesn’t exhibit purpose or design. 

 

The authors indicate that it is possible to be both a naturalist and admit design.  The Aristotelians and Stoics did so.  However, to avoid something of a pantheistic worldview, one has to take precedence over the other.  Most cosmologists don’t seem to like the idea of an oscillating universe (interminable series of Big Bangs and Contractions). 

 

            . . . current Big Bang cosmology discourages the view that the cosmos is eternal, which is

            necessary if design is coextensive with matter, time, and natural law (note also that law is

            not itself a material entity, nor is it a causal agent).  A causal agent that somehow

            transcends the cosmos is a much more natural explanation for the Big Bang and the

            resulting physical universe we know than are purely immanent patterns of design.  But

            either is a better explanation than the currently popular view that the physical universe is

            all there is, was, or ever shall be, and that chance and impersonal necessity exclusively

            explain its existence” (p. 329). 

 

And so it would appear that the authors come out of this fray as something of deists.  I am not certain that that is the only necessary conclusion; but it does avoid the charge of pantheism.  In addition, it would allow for both the immanence and transcendence of the Deity.  The Deity would then both initiate the universe and superintend the universe once in operation. 

 

14.       You haven’t shown that ETs don’t exist. 

 

Naturalism would, of course, lead to despair in this regard since observations essential conditions, and probability would ultimately lead you to the conclusion that you had a better chance of finding a particular grain of salt on the beach.  However, were design built into the equation, the finding of ETs is only thrown back one level.  Not only could we ask where it was we came from; but then we might ask where it was they came from.  It would seem more likely that it was from the same source.  “Our argument does not require that we are the only intelligent life in the universe, nor does it require that we are not” (p. 329).  What it would require is that whatever environment we found them in, it would largely resemble our own. 

 

“From Design to Theology”

 

The authors contend that their argument does not prove the existence of the God of traditional belief.  It might provide support for such an argument; but, “The most it establishes is that there is a designer sufficient to design the universe as we see it” (p. 330).  Against the theory of Intelligent Design we may see something like this: “If the universe were designed for intelligent observers like us, many argue, why is it so large, so old, and so largely uninhabitable?  Surely, a wise and benevolent creator would not be so wasteful and inefficient” (p. 330).  Pretty silly question in my way of thinking: it presupposes that the questioner knows the meaning of wise, benevolent, wasteful and inefficient.  I am certainly not going to give them that much credit with as wasteful as establishment researchers are with government grants! 

 

Be that as it may, the question has exactly nothing to do with design: “Something can be wicked, wasteful, and inefficient but still be designed.  Think of the guillotine, the Edsel, and Windows 95” (p. 330).  The authors go on to show that the question presents something more of a caricature of God than an informed theological statement.  No surprise: some researchers in the West come from families that haven’t been in church for generations.  How would they know? 

 

            . . . it doesn’t make clear sense, since the concept of efficiency is only relevant to agents

            limited to finite material resources.  A sufficiently powerful being would not be taxed by

            the most extravagant of universes.  We mention this not because of some irrepressible

            compulsion to inject theology into science but merely to point out that those who oppose

            design have already done so, and done so rather poorly at that” (p. 330). 

 

In short, we are always told by those in the science guild to mind our own business when it comes to science; but, when the shoe is on the other foot, I rather imagine they get downright indignant.  In short, the God as portrayed by most secular researchers is hardly worth the title. 

 

            Of course, there’s nothing wrong with moving from specifically scientific inferences into

            theological reflection, but we should be aware of what we’re doing.  Ironically,

            theological arguments of this sort often come from those who insist that science cannot

            consider questions of purpose and design.  As a matter of logic, they can’t have it both

            ways.  Specifically theological objections deserve specifically theological responses (p.

            330). 

 

And so it goes. . . .  Next time, which judging by this time will be quite some time, I will conclude and take on one more contention and that is the idea that we were seeded by aliens or “panspermia.”  With that, I will conclude this series on Intelligent Design.  Remember, losses in court mean nothing with respect to the truth.  In a representative republic, the majority often wins; but, at least in my lifetime, the majority has rarely been right.  These are political issues and these are legal issues; but just because some Circuit Court has arbitrarily decided to define God out of existence in the public schools probably means nothing.  In fact, I almost doubt that God takes nearly as much notice of that as what went on in the hearts of the individuals involved and victimized by the various decisions.  Prayer is hardly out of the schools, and the way the kids back the teachers into the corner in the public schools in respect to Darwinian thought, I doubt that Design is in as much danger.  Our kids are much more resilient than we were.  I teach for a living and I give examinations.  As the old saw goes, “As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in schools”  As long as the arguments against Intelligent Design are as poorly focused and vitriolic as they are, kids will rebel against their teachers’ stupidity and attitudes and still marvel at the glory of the Created Universe. 

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