Thursday, October 15, 2009

The Paradox of (Un)Intelligent Design

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

The paradox of (un)intelligent design

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com)

The Daily Nebraskan

February 12, 2001

"A habit of basing convictions upon evidence, and of giving to them only that degree of certainty which the evidence warrants, would, if it became general, cure most of the ills from which the world is suffering."
--Bertrand Russell, from "Why I am not a Christian"

Like zombies in a horror movie, some ideas are slain repeatedly only to rise from the grave for yet another try at success. Creationism, the idea that the earth and every living thing on it were created instantaneously by God, is one such idea. Although the Supreme Court ruled it unconstitutional to teach Creationism almost two decades ago, supporters of the idea have not given up.
Kansas' removal of all mention of evolution from educational guidelines (though reversed in a recent election) is one example of their continuing power. A new movement is on the horizon, however, that promises to reinvigorate the controversy over science, religion and their respective places in our educational system.
The "intelligent design" theory holds that everything in the universe was designed by an intelligent being, not the result of natural processes. Like Creationism, intelligent design theory is embraced by only a tiny handful of scientists. But unlike Creationism, the proponents of intelligent design avoid base appeals to religious fervor or references to the Bible. Instead, their position is argued on certain scientific critiques of evolution and other evidence they believe proves that our universe could not be the result of chance.
It's still too soon to decide the merits of this theory. Books like Phillip E. Johnson's "Darwin On Trial" argue that the fossil record fails to support evolution, and Michael Behe's "Darwin's Black Box" argue that the biochemical and genetic make-up of life is too complex to be the result of natural processes. Both are fascinating reads and deserve consideration by evolutionists. On the other hand, the intelligent design movement has gained few followers in the scientific community and rarely succeeds in getting its ideas published in peer-reviewed journals.
Whether this reflects the scientific community's obstinacy to new ideas or simply its rational assessment of the merits of intelligent design theory only time will tell.
The most interesting thing about any movement, however, is the difference between its stated goals and its real motivations. On its face, the intelligent design movement simply pursues scientific truth through the best evidence available. In reality, however, most proponents of intelligent design theory believe it is a way to cure the primary ill they associate with belief in evolution: loss of faith in God. Design theorists are "overwhelmingly Christian." The 10-year-old Discovery Institute and its offshoot, the Center for Renewal of Science and Culture, "are at the center of the intelligent-design movement." (OWH, 1/22/01)
The Institute sponsors intelligent design conferences and its scholars write articles, which they publish in special intelligent design journals. According to its mission statement (entitled "The Wedge Strategy") the goal of the Institute is not the pursuit of scientific truth, but "to replace materialistic explanations with the theistic understanding that nature and human beings are created by God."
T.H. Huxley said, "Logical consequences are the scarecrows of fools and the beacons of wise men." Let us, just for a moment, assume that intelligent design theory is 100 percent correct and that the universe and everything in it was created by an intelligent being. What follows logically from this?
Will the Discovery Institute succeed in convincing rational people that God exists and, in turn, change their behavior? In a word, no. The Institute has placed its urge to proselytize over an objective scientific search for truth.
Even if we knew that there was a designer, we would have absolutely no information about this designer. We wouldn't know if the designer was a race of advanced extraterrestrials (which some intelligent design theorists believe), a sentient computer, a collection of gods, one god, a beneficent god or a malevolent deity.
David Hume, speaking through the voice of Demea in his "Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion" said, "While we are uncertain whether there is one deity or many; whether the deity or deities, to whom we owe our existence, be perfect or imperfect, subordinate or supreme, dead or alive; what trust or confidence can we repose in them? What veneration or obedience pay them? To all the purposes of life, the theory of religion becomes altogether useless."
Supporters of the intelligent design movement who simultaneously believe in the classic omnipotent yet beneficent God logically commit themselves to believing, like Voltaire's "Candide," that this is the best of all possible worlds. In a world where millions of infants starve to death, a third of the world is engaged in war and natural disasters (like the recent earthquake in India) kill thousands of innocents everyday, this idea is laughable. Ironically, if the earth is the result of design, the designer appears either unintelligent or purposefully malevolent.
Bertrand Russell said it best: "Apart from logical cogency, there is to me something a little odd about the ethical valuations of those who think that an omnipotent, omniscient, and benevolent Deity, after preparing the ground by many millions of years of lifeless nebulae, would consider Himself adequately rewarded by the final emergence of Hitler and the H-bomb."
The debate over evolution and intelligent design is important and deserves to continue. At the very least, it forces evolutionists to defend their belief with evidence instead of authority, and it may even lead to new understandings of our universe.
For now, however, I tend to agree with Russell: "The world in which we live can be understood as a result of muddle and accident; but if it is the outcome of deliberate purpose, the purpose must have been that of a fiend. For my part, I find accident a less painful and more plausible hypothesis."

A Chance to Say Good-Bye

I only have a little over a week until the old website is down, so for the sake of completeness I'm going to start posting three or four columns a day until I'm caught up.

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

A chance to say good-bye

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com

The Daily Nebraskan

February 05, 2001

"How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?"
--John Steinbeck, "The Grapes of Wrath"

Dear Kitty,
It's been what, two years now? I know this is a bit weird, but I really didn't know how else to do it.
Since I left Chadron, your Mom moved, and I have no idea where you are. I thought I'd write now because I graduate next semester, and I'll lose the chance. I've actually been doing some writing for other newspapers and even had a few essays published in magazines, but, of course, they never offer a chance to do something personal like this.
So now I have the chance, and I have no idea what to say.
I guess I just want to say good-bye. I need to clean out the attic of my brain by putting this stuff on paper, and then I'll be able to move on with a clearer conscience.
I still remember that last day we were together: the day after Valentine's Day, 1999.
When we broke up that time, I thought it would be like the two dozen times before ... you would come back the next day and apologize, or I would say I was sorry and that it (whatever "it" was) would never happen again, and things would go back to normal.
But you didn't come back the next day, and when you finally did, I had worked hard to move on. I found a new girlfriend and tried to have a clean slate for my move here to Lincoln.
But for some reason, I keep thinking of you. Not so much that I miss you or that I wish we could be together again (because I don't), but just that there were some things I wanted to tell you and never did.
Back then, we said "I love you" to each other so often, it became a mantra, meaningless, like the ritual prayers the Christians spout. But I really did love you. And there was a time, at least in the beginning, when I was in love with you. I remember the distinction because you taught it to me.
You also hurt me like hell. The pain is gone now, but I still remember the betrayals. And they were worse because I couldn't express my anger ... I had consented to them because you placed me in a position where I couldn't say no.
But I know I hurt you too. You were dead-on when you told me that I thought I was the perfect boyfriend just because I never yelled or hit you. If anything, I hurt you through indifference. You were my first real relationship, though. I tried to do what I thought was right, and it's only through time that I could see what I did wrong.
My space is starting to run out. What I really want to say is that I know what you did for me and I appreciate it. When we first met I was quiet, shy, afraid to be the least bit different from "normal." Now I have the courage to be different because you had the courage to be openly bisexual in western Nebraska. I don't think I ever told you how much I respected that in you.
Much of my commitment to social justice issues is because of you. I never would have realized my own sexuality if it wasn't for you. That day when the three of us had sex for the first time, something just clicked, and I realized that sexuality was more complex than I had ever imagined.
I came across a passage in a book a few months ago that seemed to sum it up well: "It amazes me that my imagination was so controlled by my culture that I could not recognize something so central to my being."
Of course, you weren't responsible for everything. My Mom still blames you for making me atheist, when the truth is that I destroyed your faith. But you did show me that so many of my preconceptions had to be reconsidered.
Anyway, I hope things are going well for you. They are for me. I'm living with a wonderful guy now. (A guy who doesn't throw household goods at me, unlike some people I know. Hint, hint.) Law school is going well, and I started working for the ACLU. Soon I'll be out in the real world.
They say time heals all wounds, but many of the painful memories remain. Yet so do the good ones. On the whole, I'm thankful for the time we spent together. I would not be a bad guy if we had never met--but I wouldn't be half the man I am today.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

The Wind Raiders of Taloraan


The Wind Raiders of Taloraan is the latest in Dark Horses' digest-sized Clone Wars graphic novels. Very much in the tone of the animated series, this one stars the standard trio: Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka. The story has to do with negotiations on a gas-mining planet (Taloraan) on which both the Republic and the Separatists hope to plant a flag. As with the other recent Clone Wars products, the Republic is completely good, the Separatists are completely evil (and stupid), and every thing has a nice, happy ending. I think maybe if I were a nine-year-old girl I would think seeing Ahsoka fly around on a giant bird was cool, but as I am not, I didn't.

The Rules of Engagement

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

The Rules of Engagement

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com)

The Daily Nebraskan

January 29, 2001

"The limitation of liberty is justified only when it is necessary for liberty itself, to prevent an invasion of freedom that would be still worse."
--John Rawls, A Theory of Justice

Many of the most controversial issues of our day - such as abortion, drug use, gambling, prostitution, sodomy and assisted suicide - are complex and multi-faceted. The debates rage on several levels: religious and ethical concerns, historical and philosophical underpinnings and empirical effects on society. At their core, however, each of these issues has one thing in common that places them in the public eye: their controversial relation to the criminal law.
The debate is not so much about whether these things should be encouraged or discouraged, but whether the machinery of the criminal justice system should be used to stop them. The problem, of course, is that the people who decide whether these practices will be legal or illegal--the public and its representatives--usually have no principled method of making such decisions.
Instead, decisions are based on "gut instinct" or religious doctrine. "What I like" becomes "What should be legal," and "What I don't like," becomes "What should be illegal." Because of this failure to see the big picture, our criminal law is a hodgepodge of incoherent and irrational laws, with no consistent justification.
At one time, New York set a maximum penalty of 10 years for first degree assault and a maximum of 20 years for sodomy; Pennsylvania set seven years for assault with intent to kill and a 10 year maximum for pandering, and California had a two year maximum for "corporal injury to wife or child," but 15 years for "perversion" (Feinberg, 1985). In his four-volume series "The Moral Limits of the Criminal Law," philosopher Joel Feinberg discussed the most prominent justifications for the criminal law. He argued that a desire to prevent people from harming themselves ("Legal Paternalism") or a belief that certain conduct is inherently immoral ("Legal Moralism") are not valid justifications to enact a criminal law. Instead, Feinberg believed that only two justifications for the criminal law were valid: the prevention of harm to others (the "Harm Principle") and the prevention of serious offense to others (the "Offense Principle").
Feinberg's support for laws criminalizing conduct that merely offends others has come under serious attack because of the danger such laws present to civil liberties. His advocacy of the Harm Principle, on the other hand, has a distinguished history.
Thomas Jefferson summarized the principle in his pithy remark that "the legitimate powers of government extend to such acts only as are injurious to others," but the idea was first articulated and explored by John Stuart Mill in his classic, "On Liberty." Mill believed passionately that freedom of expression had real value only when linked to freedom of conduct. Therefore, he argued that laws based on paternalistic desires (such as our modern-day drug laws) or the religious fervor of some segments of society (such as sodomy laws) are unjust and ultimately cause more harm than they prevent.
As Mill put it: "The liberty of the individual must be thus far limited; he must not make himself a nuisance to other people. But if he refrains from molesting others in what concerns them, and merely acts according to his own inclination and judgment in things which concern himself, the same reasons which show that opinion should be free, prove also that he should be allowed, without molestation, to carry his opinions into practice at his own cost."
Mill may have underestimated the problems inherent in the Harm Principle. Even if society were to adopt it, there would still be debates over how much harm is too much or whether the harm is too indirect. But at the very least, the Harm Principle provides a rational area of discourse. Our current reasons for enacting many criminal laws, "God says it's wrong" or "I just don't like it," do not even accomplish that much.
Of course, no single book or essay (and certainly no magazine column) provides the answer in a neat little package. The point is that we must read, think and even write about these issues because they have real-world significance.
Our criminal justice system is powerful and sometimes deadly; we have a corresponding responsibility to think carefully before we determine its targets.

Catholicism at the Crossroads

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

Catholicism at the Crossroads

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com)

The Daily Nebraskan

January 22, 2001

"The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse."
-- Edmund Burke

We can usually best judge the measure of a man by what he does, not what he says or thinks. The same holds true for religions. Although the doctrines of each religion are equally irrational, the fascinating differences between them lie in how they affect society (and in turn are affected by it).
By such a measure, the Catholic Church has become largely indistinguishable from the Southern Baptist Convention. The modern Catholic Church spends most of its time condemning homosexuals and abortion, issuing proclamations about how it offers the only full means to salvation, actively influencing political elections and generally stifling dissent from within or without.
Of course, it wasn't always this way. In the early 1960s, Pope John XXXIII brought new approaches "in the fields of ecumenism, religious liberty, the liturgy, Scripture studies and social action." (Mead & Hill, 1995) He believed passionately that religion could bring about freedom instead of oppression and hope instead of hellfire and damnation. Priests of the "Vatican II" worked fervently to achieve social justice: They helped feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, secure civil rights for blacks and more.
Unfortunately, some leaders of the modern Catholic Church have returned to the mind-set that brought about the Crusades, the Inquisition and the trial of Galileo.
The Archdiocese of Omaha and its head, Archbishop Curtiss, provide the perfect example. In the United States, there are only 42 archbishops: Curtiss is one of the most conservative of them all. In the recent debate over Initiative 416, Curtiss sent a flier to several thousand Catholic households in Nebraska urging them to vote for 416; the fliers included a picture and quote from the pope. Not an unexpected action, but what happened next was.
When 12 Catholics (including a retired priest) signed a full-page ad in the Omaha World-Herald urging citizens to vote against the initiative, Curtiss reacted angrily and promised to personally contact each of the Catholics who signed it. Later that same month, Michael Kelly of the World-Herald wrote a column about Vincent Mainelli. Mainelli, probably the most prominent Catholic priest in Nebraska, was a pastor at St. Cecilia, one of the 10 largest Catholic cathedrals in the country. However, Mainelli decided to retire from the priesthood and get married, citing his dissatisfaction with the Church's movement away from social justice teaching as the main reason for the change.
A World-Herald investigation showed that Mainelli wasn't the only one. Of all the priests ordained by the Omaha Archdiocese since 1956, between 14 percent and 20 percent have left the priesthood entirely. "Many had questioned church teaching on birth control, divorce and remarriage, the need for celibacy among the clergy and the ban on female priests." (OWH 12-17-00)
Did Archbishop Curtiss listen to Mainelli's concerns or try to open a dialogue? No. He simply compared Mainelli's actions to a husband breaking his marriage vows and said that "(Columnist) Michael Kelly, who is supposed to be a Catholic, should have lamented the fact with all of us who love the priesthood and love our archdiocese."
Curtiss caused another furor by proclaiming that Catholics should not vote for any candidate who supports abortion rights. (i.e., most Democrats). Why didn't Curtiss tell voters not to vote against any candidate who supports the death penalty (i.e., most Republicans), an equally noxious practice under Catholic doctrine? Governor Mike Johanns also is "supposed to be a Catholic" and eagerly supports sending inmates to the electric chair. Perhaps Archbishop Curtiss is too busy calling lay Catholics who signed the advertisement against 416 to find the time to call the Governor who supports having people killed.
Most recently, Curtiss "said he would probably publicize the names of Catholic university theologians who don't obtain his approval as being in accord with the teachings of the church." (OWH 1-07-01) The mandate is part of a document issue by Pope John Paul II.
Many Catholics, including Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk of Cincinnati, don't believe the mandate is enforceable, and they do believe it threatens the religious and intellectual freedom of Catholic theologians. Curtiss, speaking with respect to Creighton, is not dissuaded: "I'm just saying that if I declare that this person doesn't have a mandate to teach Catholic theology in this university, (it's) going to have some impact."
The Catholic Church has come to a crossroads. Its leadership is increasingly conservative, yet its membership is increasingly liberal. A 1999 Gallup survey for the National Catholic Reporter showed that 53 percent of Catholics believed that a person could be a Catholic and support abortion rights (up from 39 percent in 1987), 72 percent believed Catholics could make birth control decisions contrary to the Church's position (up from 66 percent), and 63 percent supported allowing women as priests (up from 48 percent): an issue Pope John Paul II said is closed to debate. Another poll showed that 75 percent of Catholics believed priests should be allowed to marry. (OWH 9-03-00)
The Church's membership also is changing. The Church is now facing a drastic shortage of priests, while enrollment in its seminaries and private schools is down. One study found that of nearly 7,000 active priests, nearly 20 percent left between 1966 and 1985. The Omaha Archdiocese itself is in trouble. In 1960, there was one priest for every 798 Catholic members. Today, there is only one priest for every 1,449 members.
If we measure religions by the effect they have on the world, the verdict is still out on Catholicism. Lay members and some priests still work hard on social justice issues.
In Nebraska, Catholics like Reverend Zuerlein of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church advocate for immigrants; others work building houses for Habitat for Humanity or operating battered women's shelters. Yet, how long can they continue without active support from leaders who seem concerned only with abortion or homosexuality?
"We haven't left the church. The church has left us," said Mainelli when he quit the priesthood. The Catholic Church, or what's left of it, must soon decide whether it believes in compassion, freedom and social justice - or hegemony, intolerance and obedience.
It is increasingly clear that if Archbishop Curtiss gets his way, the latter view will prevail.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy


Here it is, the last Buffy book review copied from my very-soon-to-be-defunct website. But don't jump in front of the train yet--I'll still write new ones from time to time.

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Buffy book reviews)

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE AND PHILOSOPHY: FEAR AND TREMBLING IN SUNNYDALE

James B. South, editor (2003)

RATING: 3/5 Stakes

BACK-OF-THE-BOOK SUMMARY: “So, if you’re kind of killing time between apocalypses or just wondering about that meaning of life thing, here’s some readage . . . Look, these guys’ll I-think-therefore-I-am you into the freakin’ ground. And the happy is better than shoe shopping. What? If I don’t consult the oracle I’ll, like, turn to stone? Well, yeah, if not already.”

REVIEW

Buffy’s entry into Open Court’s “Popular Culture and Philosophy” line takes the form of a collection of short essays written by junior academics in fields such as women’s studies, philosophy, and sociology. The essays are roughly grouped by subject: feminism, knowledge/science, ethics, religion/politics, and miscellaneous. Each is written with reference to the first six seasons of Buffy, with Season Seven unfortunately taking place after final deadlines for the writers.

Most of the essays are accessible, though they tend to expect the reader to have a basic understanding of long-standing philosophical concepts such as the difference between utilitarian and deontological theories of justice. On the whole, I find the essays largely mundane and forgettable, obviously written by huge fans of the show using Buffy to embody a particular academic issue they’re currently working on. However, there are a couple of stand-out articles, such as Neal King’s Brownskirts: Facisim, Christianity, and the Eternal Demon and Michael P. Levine and Steven Jay Schneider’s Feel for Buffy: The Girl Next Door. The first is a fascinating essay on Buffy as a fascist hero, while the second doesn’t fall into the hagiography trap and is willing to both criticize the show and the cult of frequently simple-minded scholarship that has grown up around it.

I don’t think Buffy and Philosophy will prove particularly interesting to the average fan of the show (whether or not philosophically inclined), and is probably best browsed before purchase.

Death Comes for the Arch-Villains

FROM THE ARCHIVES (Daily Nebraskan columns)

Death comes for the Arch-Villains

Jeremy Patrick (jhaeman@hotmail.com)

The Daily Nebraskan

January 08, 2001

The good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the Socket.
--Wordsworth, "The Excursion"

Last Saturday, with the Senate split evenly 50-50 between Democrats and Republicans, the two parties announced a power-sharing plan, which will give each some influence over which bills are forwarded by committees to the full Senate.
Therefore, much of the talk and speculation on Capitol Hill and in the media is over the ailing health of the Senates two oldest Republican members: Strom Thurmond and Jesse Helms.
Since each lives in a state with a Democratic governor, if either one dies, the Democratic Party will have a majority in the Senate. It has become a veritable "Deathwatch 2001."
Its about time.
Strom Thurmond, a mind-boggling 98 years old, is the longest-serving member of the Senate and probably its most conservative member. He's been hospitalized several times in the past few months with various ailments and also has memory problems: He recently claimed in an interview that he was only 81 years old. Thurmond gained notoriety almost half a century ago when he led Southern Democrats in four states to withdraw from the Democratic Party and form the States Rights Dixiecrat ticket. Thurmond was the party's presidential nominee, and what bound the group together was their "violent opposition to any measure of social and political equality for African-Americans." (Hoffman, 1996)
In fact, the major reason the group formed was the Democratic Party's advocacy of military desegregation and civil rights for blacks. In a resolution largely written by Thurmond, the Dixiecrats condemned any efforts "to undermine the racial integrity and purity of the white and negro races alike." In his fire-and-brimstone acceptance speech, he ranted, "There's not enough troops in the army to force the southern people to break down segregation and admit the Negro race into our theaters, into our swimming pools, into our homes, and into our churches."
Of course, Thurmond lost the election and the civil rights movement succeeded. Although he has toned down the racist language in the 46 years since he was first elected to the Senate, he has still been a tireless opponent of any legislation that would help minority groups. As Milton said, "Never can true reconcilement grow, / Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep."
Jesse Helms, Republican Senator from North Carolina, is also in poor health and was recently hospitalized with pneumonia. A member of the Senate since 1972, Helms chairs the influential Foreign Relations Committee. Like Thurmond, Helms also has a long history of racist, sexist, and homophobic actions (most famously, when he addressed Clinton's nominee for assistant secretary of housing as a "damned lesbian").
Helms is also an ardent isolationist and opponent of the United Nations. Using his position as Chair of the Foreign Relations Committee, he has been able to block important legislation relating to international trade and human rights. For example, last Monday President Clinton signed a treaty to create the International Criminal Court, which would try war-crimes suspects. Even though 138 countries have signed it (including Russia, Cambodia, and Israel), Helms has predictably vowed to prevent it from being ratified.
He stated that "protecting America's fighting men and women from this international kangaroo court is one of my highest priorities in the new Congress." (Washington Times, January 1, 2001)
The Helms and Thurmond "Deathwatch" is not just about who will control the Senate; with a majority of 60 needed to break a filibuster, their deaths would probably not have a dramatic effect. More important is what their deaths would signify about our country's past and its future.
Helms and Thurmond are the products of a time when racism and hatred of other minority groups was widespread and accepted. For many Americans, their deaths would be the symbolic end of one of the darkest periods in our country's history.
Although Homer warns us, "It is not right to gloat over the dead," few tears will be shed over their passing.