Evolution? Naturalism? Rationality?

In response to a certain idea put forward regarding the inability of natural selection to create neural structures capable of arriving at or determining true ideas or beliefs.

- i.e. The frog believes eating the fly will turn it back into a prince. Or something.... -

Say what???

(Fer determinin' tru beleefs ta okur we rekwahrs, G!  On account'a G is th' only'est sorce a nolledge bout anythin wurth knowin what ther iz! Ur so this hyar pertikaler theist sez. Sept he sez it with lots o' big wurds an fermyulaz, an such lahk. Them durn theists, they's persistent! Ah'll give em thet!)

- This is part of the never ending nonsense theists engage in left and right. Like attempting to calculate probabilities, after the fact. [1] Which is just about the most pointless and futile exercise there is, and which, realistically, can't be done. (At least according to all the genuine mathematicians/statisticians I've read to date.)[2] I mean, you can play with all sorts of numbers, (but you have to make them up, because you have no actual data...), and say you're calculating actual probabilities.

But you're not.

Q. What are the actual odds of life arising on earth?

A. 1 in 1, or 100%, unless I miss my guess.

To give them credit, it looks really impressive, cause it looks just like real math! (Just like theology speak sounds like it should mean something. But if you parse the sentence, it, (any actual meaning)[3], kinda disappears in a puff of hot air.) But that's what ya gotta do when you start from the premise that G exists!

If the existence of G is a given, then everything else has to be made to fit, no matter how much damage you have to do to it to make it give the forgone conclusion. -

Regarding evolved neural networks inability ascertain truth or falsehood, I posit the following, (and really, I'm certain the frog itself doesn't have any beliefs regarding the fly. Beliefs about the fly are irrelevant. Anyway, even if it could think, should the frog take the time to think about the fly, the frog will starve), hypothesis.

Faulty reality testing will be strongly selected against.

(This is, in fact, not at all subtle, and is constantly observed, i.e. "I know I can levitate you! Trust me! Go ahead and step off the cliff. You won't plummet to a gruesome death on the razor sharp rocks 1,000 feet below. I promise!" But, even if it were subtle, and not easily observed, it could easily be tested. Though certain forms of testing would definitely be unethical, if not immoral. (See above.))

or

Any sensory system which is incapable of determining, accurately, what is actually going on out there, by itself, or in combination with, a downstream neural system which is also incapable of accurately interpreting that data, in order to determine an appropriate course of action, will be highly, (and swiftly), selected against.

One of the many reasons that neural and brain systems DO NOT function as digital serial devices is really quite simple. Just think about it for a minute. A single corrupted bit, (and yeah, before you even start, I know bit is singular, and I'm being redundant. Lord give me strength! Just come over here - so I can smack you! Computer geeks, jeez.... Get A Life!), anyway, a single corrupted bit will cause a digital computer to either crash, or give a grossly incorrect result.

So - just imagine the reproductive success rate of a creature whose processor seizes up completely, or has to "reboot", every time there's a hiccup in the system. (Say an unconstrained or missing variable.) While that creature is rebooting, I, with my naturally selected, sloppy, noise tolerant, massively parallel processing systems, (yes, systems, plural), am having that creature for lunch.

(I hope it's yummy!)

Burp!

Which is not to say that these systems cannot be hijacked by other life forms for other purposes, (see: the insect mimic orchids). The fun thing is this, the orchid does such a good job of being a female wasp that, according to the input received, the male wasp is not making a mistake, misinterpreting data, or engaging in false belief, when it tries to boink the flower! (Yes, we are ALL like that.) The wasp is doing the best it can with the limited processing power it has available. (Who'd think a plant could be so clever? Well, it's not! There's no clever involved, if it doesn't fool the wasp, it doesn't reproduce either.) Also observe, there is usually little cost to the insect for the mistake, merely the loss of a mating opportunity, often balanced by the acquisition of calories.

Another point to be made here is the very bad choice/design, (you know, we need a word that doesn't have the connotations/baggage that design/choice, etc have. I'll work on it....), inherent in this degree of specificity. To whit, if anything happens to that particular wasp species, that particular orchid species is in deep, deep, shit.

Which is NOT what one expects from an Omniscient designer....

Still it seems to me, (though I admittedly have no Phd, and therefore lack any qualifications to speak about anything), that natural selection would tend to evolve systems that are very good at quick and dirty determination of true vs false "beliefs".

Still, why are we so bad at certain forms of reasoning?

My belief, (that's toooo funny), is that those forms of reasoning provided no natural survival or reproductive advantage.

Seriously, algebra, while useful under certain circumstances, is really no help whatsoever when hunting, or gathering, or courting the cutie from the next village. (I can guarantee you, women who think your ability to do proofs in your head is HOT, and would be willing to fuck you because of it, are few and far between, if they exist at all - but that's an ontological question, so I'm not gonna pursue it here.) However, if the ability to do algebra means the King uses you to keep track of certain things, for which you are amply compensated, with status, and funds, you will be able to acquire that hot cutie! (She'll still fuck the boneheaded, but hunky! soldier anyway, however, if she's smart, she'll still come home to you, and hope to fool you into raising her babies. "Oh look honey, isn't he cute? And he's got your eyes!" But hey, life's not perfect.) And anyway, if you've got money and status, there will be competition for your attentions among the other nubile cuties too. (As many a woman who's married a rock star, millionaire, or golf pro, has found to her chagrin and sorrow.) And yea, verily I say unto thee, thusly shall thine algebra gene spreadeth throughout the kingdom, even unto the fourth generation.

But I could be mistaken.

Nevertheless, I do have to make the observation that in the contest between the use of pure reason, (unconstrained by actual data), to make sense of the world, and experimental systems, which accumulate data sets and engage in proposed hypothesis testing against the actual observed results, it's pretty clear which is the winner. Leastways if you're reading this on the lcd screen of your laptop, (as opposed to consulting a crystal ball, or your local medium).

1. Oh wait, there are no facts. Only interpretations. See CMI (creation ministries international) Website.
2. Appeal to authority! appeal to authority! Logical fallacy!!! Gotcha!!!
3. Deconstructionists ALL go to Hell! Where they and the Post Modernists will then spend eternity tormenting each other. (And you thought The Eternal Lake of Fire was bad....)

Ala Kalam!

OK, I ain't got th' smarts ta argue with no one on thet thar Kantorian set theory, nur none a thet thar other hah level Filosofikal stuff en nonsense. Ner wether no aktual in-feye-nite tem-por-ral seekwens iz sumthin what kin aktualy exist, ya know, thet thar w+w*, an whatever all else kind'er nonsense, (Ah wuz gonna say bullshit, but ah decided thet wudn't be perlite), all you'n filosofers iz all th' time gettin yursefs inta.

So's anyways, ya'll keep on 'a talkin bout temporal sequences, an wether ur not G exists inside a, ur outsid'a time. Now if'n G iz outsid'a time, or time has no meanin ta G, ah gots ta say, ignorant as ah is, how kin it be thet he's decidin at what point ta kreate, since, if'n G iz outsid's a time, or iz non-temporal, then Gs choozin ta do somethin, well shoot fahr, choozin ta do anythin, at some pertikular point in time, iz, mor ur less, kinda impossible, logically, ur whatever.

An then therz thet thar thang bout everythin what begins ta exist haz ta haz a cause.

Sept that's not true, as anyone what has even a little bit oh smarts regardin quantum this, that, an the other, kin tell ya. Quantum stuff happens all th time with no "cause" at all so fars we kin determine. It just happens. Ya know, sorta like shit.

Then there's thet thar vacuum energy, an them thar virtual partikuls, what pops inter an outa existenz with no cause a' tall what anyone kin determine. We knows they'z thar on akounta thet thar kazimir effect, which has done been measured. So'z it wood seem they'z real az anythin what we kin touch. (which iz mor 'an anyone kin say bout G!)

Still, al th' time they's arguin bout temporal this, an temporal that, an we don't even know what time IS! beyount "it's what you measure with a clock." Time? It's right up thar with quantum gravity fer as mysterious iz consarned! Ya'll iz spendin all this hyar smoke an energy arguin bout G this, an G that, an temporal this an temporal that, an ya'll don't even know what time iz!

But see, ah allus comes to a stop what with thet thar Kalam argyument with the very first premise, "everything that begins to exist has a cause."

On account'a, where's yer proof? Contrarywise ta ya'lls assumption, ah don't take thet as self evident.

Plus, tho ya'll il say "that's different" ya'lls G is presumed to neither have, nur need, a cause.

Which sorta blows yer first premise out'n th' water, (ur wuter, az they'ns sez in delaware), leastwise fer those ah us'ns what is too ignurent an simple ta understands the sutilty a yur argument explainin' how come G is exempt from yer first premise.

Now, ah's red lot'sa highfalutin language explicatin how come makin G exempt from the first premise don't render it false, but ya know somethin?

Pilin shit higher an deeper don't change th' fact that it's still shit.

An, as anyone whats spent time in farm country kin tell ya,

the higher the pahl gits,

th worser it smells.

A problem of history.

If the Bible is not true history, what follows?

G did not create the world in six days, and rest on the seventh -

G did not create the garden of eden -

G did not create the first man and woman, aka Adam and Eve -

BTW: Genesis Version 2.0, beginning at Gen 2:4, is pretty clearly an adaptation of the Babylonian creation myth in which the head god creates man and woman to tend the garden(s) the gods had initially created and tended themselves. (Well, actually it was only the gods on the losing side of an unfortunate misunderstanding who were forced to garden, but that's another story.) This, (creating humanity), was done primarily because the gods figured their time was way too important to be wasted weeding and watering, (read as - the losing gods eventually whined and complained so much that the head god created us, and made us take over the gardening duties, just to make the losing gods shut up and stop all the whining. Well that and to break the first strike in history... "Unions! They're not just for mortals!" Oh yes, I'm afraid it is true. We're scabs!) Anyway, all the gods were basically lazy, and gardening was way too much like work. And tending garden also cut into their time for fighting and fucking.

Sic semper Deii?

Oh, and speaking of which, (fighting and fucking), we humans proved so adept at both, (making war and making babies), that soon we were making so much noise, (while engaged in bellum and boinking), that the gods couldn't sleep! (On account of all the fratricide and fornication!)

And lack of sleep makes the gods cranky!

So it was decided, (by the head god), that making us was actually, in point of fact, a big mistake. So after giving the matter some thought, he, (the head god), figured that a huge flood would be just the thing! With which to catch the conscience of the king!

Or something along those lines.

You know, the more I learn of Babylonian and Sumerian mythology, the more I read the Old Testament and think, "So THAT'S where they stole that from!" Seriously, if the Babylonians, Sumerians, Akkadians, et al. had had good copyright law, Judaism would never have gotten off the ground.

(Weasel appeal: It appears to be the general consensus, (that's the weasel part), among non-evangelical bible historians, that the assembly of the Old Testament wasn't even formally begun until after the babylonian captivity. You do know, don't you, that it wasn't finished, in the form you would recognize, until somewhere around 400 AD. And about that Moses guy? Most likely he never existed. It's called Mythology....)

Personally, I think those of the ignorant Judean goat herders who got carried off to Babylon, (I say "those of" because not everyone was dragooned you see), anyway, when the ones who were dragooned got to Babylon, I bet they took one look at an actual Civilization and thought to themselves, "Damn! We gotta get us some of this!"

And said things like, "So, what's this writing business all about?" (OK, I admit that statement isn't true, and was purely for dramatic effect. (You want actual scholarship? With citations? Read BAR!) They did have a writing system of their very own before the Babylonian Captivity, but it was more or less abandoned in favor of the NEW! IMPROVED! Babylonian Hebrew Script! brought back, (along with sooooooo much else), from, (can you guess?) - drumroll please - Babylon!)

And I bet they, (the dragooned), also asked questions like, "Could you repeat that story please? You know, the one about the Head God creating everything? I need to write that down."

But back to the nonexistent garden -

If there was no garden, and no Adam and Eve -

Then Adam and Eve certainly couldn't have eaten the fruit of the Forbidden Tree, cause, in addition to they non-existence, they wadn't no forbidden tree!

Hmmm. There were two trees in the midst of the garden, the Tree of Life, and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Strangely enough, it would evidently have been OK to eat the fruit of the Tree of Life.

And then what...?

Live forever, in ignorance, I guess.

But back to the train of thought. Choo Choo!!!

If there was no Adam and Eve, and there was no Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, then there was no eating of said fruit.

If there was no eating of said fruit then there was no disobedience, therefore no sin, therefore no fall.

Therefore no expulsion from the garden, (oh well, the garden never existed in the first place).

Therefore the creation we inhabit is not fallen and corrupted from some mythical state of perfection, but is, to this very day, the same sloppy, messy, organic, evolving web that it has always been.

No point, no profit. (It's the potential loss of profit that scares them the most I'm sure. And just imagine if Priests and Pastors and the Pope actually had to work (at something productive!) for a living!)

If Genesis is not true, then there was no fall.

If there was no fall, then there was nothing to forgive, nor any need for a blood sacrifice to bribe (insert deity of your choice here) to not send you to hell.

There was no sin, therefore nothing to forgive.

If there was nothing to forgive, then there was no need for a Savior.

They (Creationists) understand perfectly well what they are fighting for. Without "The Fall", the entire story comes completely apart. There is no way to salvage it. (Modern liberal christian theology notwithstanding.)

Without Genesis, there was, (is), no need for Jesus.

None whatsoever.

PS:

Gen 1:29, God gives us "Every tree with its fruit for our food." - No qualifications, no exceptions.

Gen 2:17, "but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat."

Dude! Make up your mind!

How the hell are we supposed to keep it straight if you, oh omniscient one, cannot?

So, which is it?

Arctic SURVIVAL!

There are many Great Names in the role call of Arctic Survival and Exploration. Shackelton, Byrd, Peary, Steger, Nansen, Scott, Amundsen, Franklin.

In its entirety, it is a long list, the role call of the storied Great Ones, the ones who shall live in our memories forever. Yet the complete list also contains the names of other Great Ones, now forgotten.

It is a noble list, that list. A list that harkens back to an earlier, and greater, age. For they were Giants in those days. That earlier age. That indisputably greater age. That age before the devices, the EASE! of modern exploration. That world without GPS! Without MSR stoves, space age fabrics, satellite telephones, without Polar Guard, snow machines, aeroplanes, helicopters, and vacations to Tropical Lands!!!

It was a world where luxury was a caribou skin parka and leggings, that no longer contained the Caribou! Where the Bear Skin had been divested of the Bear! For, in truth, Bears do not play well with others. But that is neither here nor there.

Yes! In those days great men, and great women, braved the elements and the uncertainty that was Exploration! Yes! Exploration with a Capitol E! As you can see!

Women Explorers did I say?

Yes I did!

For there were Women! Great Women in those days! Women whose names ennoble the list of the great Arctic explorers. But do we hear of them? Have their tales been promulgated, carried, trumpeted throughout the world?

I think not.

And why is that? You ask?

I will tell you. For I, like Brutus, am an honorable man. And what is this Truth?

The Great Conspiracy.

Yes it’s true, I use the C word. For it is a conspiracy. An ancient and dark conspiracy. An evil tradition, passed down from the patriarchs, father to son, through all the ages.

The conspiracy to keep women down.

Yes! The secret pact we men are sworn to during the Great and Secret Rituals! The conspiracy to marginalize and belittle women’s accomplishments ! Yes, at Great Personal Risk, I am breaking ranks here. I must reveal the truth! For the truth will set us free! So here I have revealed the truth! Even though it may mean my life!

“And why?” You ask, “For what cause you willing to sacrifice your life?”

Why? What Cause? Why, for the greatest cause of them all!

For Equality! Yes! And for Truth, Justice, and The American Way!

I have told you, because I can conceal the truth no longer. My conscience cries out for justice! (And there is also my hope, faint though it may be, that bringing these secrets into the light of day will increase my odds of “getting some”.) Oh Hell! I wasn’t supposed to commit that part to paper Oh! Damn! And! Blast! (Mental reservation! You forgot the mental reservation you idiot!) You don’t say the final part of the statement, dad gum it, you’re just supposed to think it! Finish the dad blamed sentence using the “inside your head” voice! Curses!

Well... Hell… I guess it’s back to internet porn.

Anyway - Today, the Muse shall sing, not of arms and the man, but of ice and the man. Of those who froze solid in the Great White North. Of those who spent as many hours in Arctic Conditions as the Greatest of The Arctic Adventurers. Perhaps even more hours than the Great Shackleton, or Franklin. The Muse shall sing today of those who spent more hours shivering in subzero temperatures than ANY living outdoor writer. (Which writers shall remain nameless, though they know who they are. And who must now face a harsh truth. That they are actually wusses and wienies! Yes! For even in climbing Everest, they NEVER suffered as we suffered.)

Today I believe that our time has come! The time for us, for we few, we happy few - whoever we are, and wherever we find ourselves today - to step forward and demand, yes, demand I say! the recognition we so richly deserve!

For did not OUR feet freeze solid? Did we not don Arctic Survival Gear, every single day, ALL winter long? And also, sometimes, in the summer? Were not our fingers stiff and numb? Did not our toes fall off in our boots, to rattle around in there like dice? Fall off in boots we were told were warm to minus fifty? Minus fifty? I think not! Ha! Liars! Everyone of them! Did we not suffer oxygen deprivation? And sometimes breathe toxic and noxious fumes? (Which could explain why we believed those sales persons regarding the boots.) Did not people, yea, even our friends, yes, even our supposed friends, mock us, and laugh at us? And deride us? And make fun of us? And question our very SANITY?

Yes, they did.

But we bore our humiliation in silence. For we were more noble than they.

But today. Yes, today! I will take the first step in demanding from the world the recognition we so richly deserve! I will add my name to the list of those who survived! The list of those who willingly sacrificed their extremities, and the extremities of their sometimes (oftentimes!) foolish friends!

I will add my name to the list of the unsung Great Ones, who learned the arcane art of steering and shifting gears with one hand, while scraping ice with the other. I will add my name to the list of us who prayed, every morning, “Please God, let it start.”

For while there may be the odd atheist, here and there, among the foxholes, there were none among us.

And what is it that we did, which makes us such a select group? We few. We proud.

I will tell you. I will put my name first. Though I was certainly not the first. For there were others who suffered, I know, long before I did. And it is my most fervent hope, that, after reading this, those early ones will feel encouraged to come forward and demand the recognition they so richly deserve.

Provided, of course, they have finally thawed out.

So what was it that I, no, that WE did, which was so exceptional? What is it that makes us a proud members of this select group? Member of a group unsung in the annals of Arctic Survival? It is simply this.

From 1978 through 1988, I drove Volkswagen Vans, year round -

In Alaska.

Aurora - Part 3

Overhead, it begins.

A slowly spreading green glow.

Driving onward through the night, I begin to watch the sky, the stars pinned in the darkness above, splitting my concentration between heaven and earth. It may come to nothing, a few sparks, a glimmer which quickly fades. No matter, I pay attention, for Aurora may chant the spell tonight and make -

Magic

In the illusory emptiness which is spacetime the great cloud, swirling and surging, envelops the earth in a fiercely erotic lovers embrace. Countless charged particles, gliding up and over, sliding down and under, drawn ever deeper on paths they feel, but cannot see. Called by a voice that they cannot resist, they seek union with the heart of that which has captured them, (Is that not love?)

and kindle green fire in the sky.

Spreading swiftly throughout the heavens I see,

shifting forms and moving shapes,

curtains made of green star fire,

billowing sheets of dancing light,

flowing green and winding rivers,

some gauze filmy and translucent,

others opaque and dancing velvet,

now compass the four horizons.

Unable to concentrate on driving any longer, I pull over on the shoulder and stop.

Kill the headlights,

leave the running lights on.

Aurora is singing the sky

with Green Fire.

I am drawn by her energy from my car,

to stand and gaze in awe at heaven.

Green shimmering,

the light curtains play games with perspective,

create a feeling of movement,

of falling upward,

outward,

into space.

I have never before seen a display of power like this.

Nor have I seen one since.

Uncountable charges, captured tightly, circling lines of flux spiral, bouncing back and forth like beads on a slinky, accelerate along the invisible path, closer, closer, closer…

Ever closer to that they so greatly desire.

To that which will remain,

forever,

out of reach.

I breath in nitrogen, oxygen.

The breath is the life.

I breath out nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide.

Three hundred miles above the world,

the seekers spiraling down

secret paths,

begin to collide

with molecules and atoms,

the guardian tenuous outliers of

the atmosphere.

A clapper strikes a bell.

That bell will dissipate that energy

as sounds.

A particle strikes an atom?

The atom dissipates that energy as heat,

or light.

(phonons or photons)

Bells of different size,

sing different notes.

Atoms of different size,

sing different colors.

Oxygen, green and red.

Nitrogen blue, ultraviolet.

The sky is become a great bell tower,

ringing changes.

A visible music.

I listen with my eyes,

hear waterfalling energy

singing curtains and walls,

singing sky filling arcs of green dancing fire,

two hundred miles tall.

The geomagnetic storm is inducing current in the car, in my body, in the Earth below my feet. Electrons begin a new dance in the power lines between Fairbanks and Healy, Beluga and Anchorage, the Eklutna lines, every power line in the north. The grounding connections for all things electric become highways for electrons to flow in rather than out. In the generator control rooms, utility workers watch their meters jump and bounce, hoping the storm won’t overload the system, explode the transformers, fry the generators, and plunge the railbelt cities and towns into darkness. Phone lines become noisy, satellite transmissions degrade, interrupt, television reception comes and...

Time passes -

how much?

I cannot tell.

I stand alone by the road this warm winter night and see the sky transfigured.

A southbound car passes,

breaking my trance.

I watch it slow,

pull over,

stop.

Then another, and another.

Tail lights multiply, pair by pair down the road,

up the road behind.

Running lights and flashers now firefly the road as far as I - as we? - can see.

But no two cars stop close to each other,

all leave some distance in,

between.

Respecting some unspoken need.

And so we join together,

over many miles tonight.

To watch alone, yet together.

To witness the invisible made visible.

To believe for a moment in things seen,

and unseen.

A great wind blows fiery clouds from a sun,

great waves roll through an endless black ocean,

and roar ashore,

in green spume and thunder.

All things have their moment,

beat,

and time.

Movement -

Rest.

So we stand by our cars on the night black asphalt,

A dark thread winding

Through a dark and silent land.

We stand alone together,

beneath this blazing sky,

And know we are part of something greater.

We stand beside our beasts of burden,

forged of the ancient iron,

forged by the violent deaths

of the first stars.

Iron they scattered through the universe like seed.

A gift - freely given.

Born of violent death.

Iron we tear from the earth,

heat and hammer into new shapes.

We stand beside our beasts of burden,

with our hands we make them,

feed them on hydrogen and carbon locked together by sunlight,

fossilized fusion,

ages buried.

It is the souls of stars,

living and dead,

That make us who we are,

and move us through our lives.

We are one short line,

in one brief chapter,

of the One Story.

Which began before time.

The end of which we will never know.

Though all of us, in a different form, will be there.

We stand alone together,

on this warm winter night,

weaving in subtle,

chemical patterns,

new memories.

We stand alone together,

our lives now strangely entangled,

Though many years,

and miles,

will soon separate us.

We stand alone together,

on this winter dark road.

We,

Children of stardust.

Breath of lost stars.

Bright sparks of thought.

Too brief embers of life.

We stand alone together,

and remember this moment,

Our part in the song.

For there above us -

God Dances