New York Times to readers: of course you have free will.

July 27, 2010 • 7:44 am

In yesterday’s New York Times, William Egginton, a professor of humanities at Johns Hopkins, was exercised by recent research showing that when monkeys make a “decision,” their neurons register it before they’re conscious of it.  (This finding has been duplicated in humans.) That implies that the “decision” isn’t really a conscious one—that is, it doesn’t conform to our notion of free will.  Egginton worries about the implications:

The implications are immediate. If researchers can in theory predict what human beings will decide before they themselves know it, what is left of the notion of human freedom? How can we say that humans are free in any meaningful way if others can know what their decisions will be before they themselves make them?

Research of this sort can seem frightening. An experiment that demonstrated the illusory nature of human freedom would, in many people’s mind, rob the test subjects of something essential to their humanity.

If a machine can tell me what I am about to decide before I decide it, this means that, in some sense, the decision was already made before I became consciously involved. But if that is the case, how am I, as a moral agent, to be held accountable for my actions? If, on the cusp of an important moral decision, I now know that my decision was already taken at the moment I thought myself to be deciding, does this not undermine my responsibility for that choice?

Egginton goes on to ponder the obvious: if we don’t have free will, then not only conventional ideas about morality but also a lot of religious doctrine—especially the Christian idea of free choice between good and evil—go out the window.

He’s right, of course. How do you deal with this problem? One way is to accept that our behaviors aren’t really affected by some ineffable and non-physical thing called “will.” But Egginton, whose own blog is much concerned with propping up faith and bashing atheism, finds another solution.  He claims that the concept of predictability isn’t relevant to our ideas about free will:

In other words, we have no reason to assume that either predictability or lack of predictability has anything to say about free will. The fact that we do make this association has more to do with the model of the world that we subtly import into such thought experiments than with the experiments themselves.

What is this “model of the world?” Simply that the world can be understood through reason and empirical examination. To Egginton, this model is problematic:

The problem was that while our senses can only ever bring us verifiable knowledge about how the world appears in time and space, our reason always strives to know more than appearances can show it. This tendency of reason to always know more is and was a good thing. It is why human kind is always curious, always progressing to greater and greater knowledge and accomplishments. But if not tempered by a respect for its limits and an understanding of its innate tendencies to overreach, reason can lead us into error and fanaticism.

When you hear the words “respect for the limits of understanding,” you know that the speaker is a either a faitheist or accommodationist, trying at once to denigrate science and to vindicate “other ways of knowing,” i.e., religion.  But I hardly need to remind readers that the scientific “model of the world” has been extraordinarily successful at solving problems, while other “models” haven’t done squat.

While Egginton doesn’t explicitly define free will (a recurrent problem in these sorts of discussions), he clearly knows its opposite: any behavior that can be predicted.  But Egginton mistakes “predictability” for “determinism.”  Our own behavior might well be completely determined by the concatenation of our genes and our environment (with perhaps a dollop of quantum indeterminacy thrown in for fun), but not be very predictable.  It’s clear, in fact, that even if we are molecular automatons, we’ll never know enough to have more than a rudimentary ability to predict people’s decisions.  We need to know not only how molecules, chemicals, and neurons interact with each other and their environment, but also how these interactions occur in own own unique configuration of molecules. On top of our inability to know everything is the fact that some things simply can’t be known: things like where an electron will move and when an atom will decay. But nobody thinks that free will resides in quantum indeterminacy.

The conflation of determinism and predictability is seen when people invoke chaos theory as support for free will.  But chaos theory does not say that things aren’t physically determined: it says that the behavior of complex systems, though determined, isn’t predictable, since tiny and unmeasurable differences in starting conditions can ramify into large differences in outcomes.  

Anthony Cashmore’s definition of free will, which seems to me to encapsulate most people’s intutitive notion, is one based on large-scale determinism but not on predictability:

I believe that free will is better defined as a belief that there is a component to biological behavior that is something more than the unavoidable consequences of the genetic and environmental history of the individual and the possible stochastic laws of nature.

Surely our ever-increasing understanding of how the brain works and how it affects behavior must play an important role in how we see “free will.”  People like Egginton, who see those advances as mere annoyances, are akin to theologians who constantly revise what the Bible really means in light of our increased understanding of physics, geology, and biology. Indeed, studies of the brain are pushing back notions of free will in precisely the way that studies of evolution have pushed back the idea of a creator-god.

We simply don’t like to think that we’re molecular automatons, and so we adopt a definition of free will that makes us think we’re free.  But as far as I can see, I, like everyone else, am just a molecular puppet.  I don’t like that much, but that’s how it is.  I don’t like the fact that I’m going to die, either, but you don’t see me redefining the notion of “death” to pretend I’m immortal.

On the incivility of atheists: “Tom Johnson” and Exhibit A

July 25, 2010 • 11:58 am

If you’ve not heard of the “Tom Johnson” affair, or aren’t interested in it, you’ll want to skip this post, which I offer simply to bring some clarity to a confusing situation.

On October 22 of last year, Chris Mooney put up a post at The Intersection called “Counterproductive attacks on religion—exhibit A.” The “exhibit” was an excerpt from an earlier comment on that website by someone named “Tom Johnson.”  Johnson claimed that he was a biologist who had gone to “conservation events” (that is, outreach meetings designed to educate people about conservation), and that atheists had behaved very badly at these events, yelling and screaming at religious people for their faith and thereby turning them off.  Mooney elevated Johnson’s comment to a full post to buttress Mooney’s frequent assertion that “new atheists,” through their stridency, thoughtlessness, and lack of respect for others, were hurting their cause by driving people away from science.

“Tom Johnson” said he was a scientist working at a large, well-known research university.  The fact that he would not fully identify himself, or reveal details about the “conservation event,” excited a good deal of speculation and rancor at various websites.  The situation was further exacerbated when it turned out that “Tom Johnson” had also created an anonymous website called “You’re Not Helping,” which excoriated various atheist bloggers, including myself, for their counterproductive messages.  “Johnson” was then caught engaging in “sock-puppetry” (making mutually supportive comments under a variety of names) on not only his own website, but on other blogs like The Intersection and even here.  Chastened, he took down the You’re Not Helping website and confessed to sock-puppetry.

All of this led to an explosion of interest, acrimony, and accusation among several websites.  One post, at The Buddha is Not Serious, is followed by 826 comments! Despite “Tom Johnson’s” confession and apology, questions remain.  Who is he? Under how many names did he post, and who are these sock puppets? How much truth was there in his description of the “conservation event” that became Mooney’s “Exhibit A”?

“Tom Johnson” (hereafter “TJ”) remains anonymous, though his identity is apparently known by Mooney, Jean Kazez, and others.  For a few weeks I have known it as well, as I am friends with some of the principals in this case.  In return for my promise not to reveal TJ’s real name, I have been party to some of the details of the situation presented as “Exhibit A.” I have also questioned the other person who was supposedly involved in that “conservation event.”  I have spoken to TJ’s advisor (Johnson is a graduate student at a university in the South), and have learned more of the details from that person.  TJ has apologized to me by email for his actions, and says he will be apologizing to others soon.  His advisor and his university are looking at his actions to see if any formal academic transgressions occurred.

I am as certain of TJ’s identity, then, as I can be.  The purpose of this post is not to “out” him. I personally don’t care much if his identity becomes public, but I want to honor my agreement to not divulge his name.  What I would like to do is to clear up, insofar as I can, what happened at the event known as “Exhibit A.”  I want to concentrate on this episode because, despite TJ’s confession that his story of atheist mockery was “obviously false,” some people are keeping alive the idea that it contains a kernel of truth, or that something akin to that episode might really have taken place.  And indeed, it would reflect poorly on atheist scientists if they habitually engaged in overt verbal mockery of religious people at outreach events.  Further, because much of the controversy about the “Tom Johnson” affair centers on how much truth there really was in “Exhibit A,” I want to give my appraisal of what really happened.

I am putting up this post with the assent of TJ’s advisor, who has read it in advance. TJ also knows that I will be making this post, though I have not shown it to him in advance.

Let me first post the relevant comments by TJ so you can see his claims (he’s admitted that he’s male).  All misspellings and typos are in the originals.

The comment by TJ at The Intersection that was labeled “Exhibit A”:

Many of my colleagues are fans of Dawkins, PZ, and their ilk and make a point AT CONSERVATION EVENTS to mock the religious to their face, shout forced laughter at them, and call them “stupid,” “ignorant” and the like – and these are events hosted by religious moderates where we’ve been ASKED to attend. They think it’s the way to be a good scientist, after all.

So what do you think happens when you spit in someone’s face, mock them openly, figuratively throw them to the ground and kick dirt in their face – and then ask “now we really need your help!!”? When my colleagues do this, you can watch the attention visibly disappear from the crowd when you finally start talking about conservation and real science.

That’s the problem with the blogosphere – you can say all the extreme, controversial things you want without consequences. But when your readers start echoing those things to the public (the people that science desperately needs to translate research to action), I’m afraid the consequences are rather severe.

A further comment by TJ on that thread:

But I’m an atheist that sees the value in working with the moderately religious instead of against them – especially when they are the ones who extend a hand first. I don’t give credence to their belief or agree with them; I often have lengthy discussions with ministers and others at the events like the one mentioned in this original post where I will tell the believers that I disagree with them…but I do it without laughing loudly at them, making it my job to mock their belief, or calling them “ignorant.”

Another TJ comment on the thread:

The organization I work for is a large, well-known research university (I won’t say which or name names as I don’t want to go down that road). We go to events representing the university, and many (most, actually) of the events we go to are ones in which we are specifically invited because we advertise ourselves as providing educational scientific outreach. (We also advertise about the need for scientists to work with diverse audiences but, as you can probably guess, that claim leaves much to be desired.)

Personally, I go into these events viewing them as a chance to reach out to groups that may not always get goood exposure to scientific topics. The state that I happen to work in is miserably lacking in scientific awareness, so these events are a great chance to “spread the word” in a way that doesn’t put the public off to science further. What happens, however, is that my collegaues turn the purpose of the events from spreading scientific knowledge to ppromoting atheism (by only bashing religion). As I told Anna K. later in the comment that brought on this post, these collegaues of mine act like they’re gearing up for battle on the way to the events, saying things like “this is our chance to tell these religious bimbos off.” When we get there, however, there’s no battle. Instead there a bunch of normal people who happen to go to church who are looking to help and instead get laughed at and mocked for an hour.

I’d like to say that the superiors in this case would chastise such behavior, but in reality, the superiors are part of the group partaking in it. I can’t stress enough how the writings of PZ Myers and Jerry Coyne (especially) are quoted by them when they’re gearing up for a “fight” or discussing their behavior with you. The sentiment that religious moderates are no better than a creationist comes up frequently (a common theme on Jerry’s blog), as does the sentiment that NOT showing vitriol is somehow really just giving support to religion (another common theme). I get frequently told that I’m a ‘bad atheist’ because I’m not willing to figuratively spit in the face of everyone I meet who is religious. Honestly, I’m more interested in being a good scientist.

Another comment by TJ:

One more addendum to what I just previously posted. What makes you doubt that I’m telling the truth? I apologize for not videotaping the incidents in question, nor my discussions with my colleagues (as that’s what it would apparently take to turn off the automatic doubt machine), but I can assure you that what I’m commenting on here is true and not truth exaggerated by hyperbole.

It is your responsibility, as the ones accusing me of lying, to prove so. The burden of proof rests on the accuser. I’m not trying to start a smear campaign; I am simply reporting what I have seen as an example (yes, even an anecdotal one) of New Atheist vitriol missing the mark (badly) when it comes to scientific issues and the public which, unless I’m mistaken, is a common focus of discussion on the value of this kind of rhetoric.

And, finally, TJ’s confession at The Buddha is Not Serious:

As mentioned earlier, I posted most often as “milton c.” and “bilbo.” I also appeared as “seminatrix” and “philip jr.,” and I believe I posted as “petra” on the value of science blogs thread. My posting under multiple names on the intersection was much like YNH: out-of-context sniping and trying to make a chorus of agreement when I was challenged. It all happened, I guess, because I let my emotions get the best of me, like on YNH [the “You’re Not Helping’ website]. I honestly don’t think Chris and Sheril ever noticed the similarities in IP address, since I never heard from them other than what they posted in comments.

“Tom Johnson” was also another alias, although his story was loosely based on things I had heard other general students say. The conference context or whatever was, as already mentioned, obviously false. When Chris contacted me, I made up a story about being a grad. student as an explanation about where the story came from because I didn’t want the Tom character to get exposed as false. As Paul W. said above, some of the stuff I said as Tom and how I said it should make it glaringly obvious in hindsight that I have no experience with anything in the professional world, and that the story and “Tom” character are both caricatures. That’s probably why no one took the story seriously anyway when I said it months ago. I’ve never had any contact with Chris or Sheril or anyone else in the blogosphere outside of that instance, and that’s the truth.

I don’t know how to make things right, but I want to. I don’t expect forgiveness from anyone because, as I said with YNH, I acted like an immature, self-interested jerk. There’s no excuse for it. Perhaps the best thing in light of all this is a permanent ban from the Intersection or discoverblogs in general. That’s something I would accept, even though I promise not to blog or comment again anywhere. Period. I’m not going to take the advice of others from earlier and blog again in the future. I don’t deserve to. I did everyone at the intersection wrong, including Chris and Sheril, and I apologize.

Now, what really happened? After hearing from TJ, talking at length to his advisor, who has queried him in detail, and hearing from the person at the “conservation event” who was said to loudly deride the faithful to their faces, I conclude the following:

  • The incident known as “Exhibit A” did not happen as described. TJ has admitted as much already, so this is not news.
  • Despite TJ’s avowal that he “made up a story about being a grad. student as an explanation about where the story came from,” he is a graduate student.
  • There was indeed one (and only one) “conservation event” at which Tom and a graduate-school colleague participated—an outreach event involving a Baptist organization—but there was no laughter at religious people, no mockery of their views to their faces, no accusations of stupidity.  As far as I can determine, there was not a single sign of disrespect toward the faithful evinced by TJ’s colleague, who is an atheist.
  • TJ’s assertion that his “superiors are part of the group” that publicly mocked the faithful at conservation events is false.  This did not happen.  His “superior” (whom I take to be his advisor) did not and does not sanction that behavior—which of course did not even occur—at outreach events.
  • The episodes of mockery and derision supposedly directed toward religious people at this and other events—for TJ implied that there was more than one episode—were complete fictions concocted by TJ, fictions apparently based on various conversations he had had with atheists and agnostics both before and during his tenure as a graduate student.  These private conversations were then amalgamated into a fantasy scenario that was passed off as a real public episode.

I’m not foolish enough to think that these conclusions will quell all the ferment on the internet.  But I hope they at least do something to settle the issue of “Exhibit A,” which everyone agreed from the outset was an anecdote.  We know now that this anecdote is not only false, but doesn’t even contain a kernel of truth.  Or, if there is a kernel of truth, it is just this: that TJ and some atheists had private talks about the compatibility of science and religion and the ways to improve science education, and that those atheists frankly and forthrightly conveyed their views to him.  This is hardly newsworthy, and it would be grossly misleading to tout this non-event as an example of the stridency and incivility of atheists.

If, after this, “Tom Johnson” wants to claim that there is more to his story than just a fabrication based on private conversations, then it is incumbent on him to finally reveal who he is, and to give names and dates to buttress his claims about the public misbehavior of atheists.

The beast stirs in Lousiana

July 24, 2010 • 5:56 pm

The benighted school board of Livingston Parish is looking into teaching creationism in public school science classes.

During the board’s meeting Thursday, several board members expressed an interest in the teaching of creationism, an alternative to the study of the theory of evolution, in Livingston Parish public school classrooms.

. . . Benton said that under provisions of the Science Education Act enacted last year by the Louisiana Legislature, schools can present what she termed “critical thinking and creationism” in science classes.

Board Member David Tate quickly responded: “We let them teach evolution to our children, but I think all of us sitting up here on this School Board believe in creationism. Why can’t we get someone with religious beliefs to teach creationism?”

Because the Supreme Court told Louisiana in 1987 that you couldn’t do that, morons!

For more on the two-year-old Louisiana Science Education Act, a typical “teach the controversy” bill that was written with the help of the Discovery Institute, see Barbara Forrest’s critique.

Why Orwell Matters

July 24, 2010 • 9:34 am

I’ve just finished Christopher Hitchens’s short book, Why Orwell Matters, and will say a few words about it for readers who might be interested.  My verdict: it’s worth a read, but only if you a) like Christopher Hitchens and, more important, b) have read a lot of Orwell.

If anyone has served as a role model for Hitchens, it’s Orwell.  Orwell (born Eric Blair) was a man of action who served as a policeman in Burma and fought in the Spanish Civil war, was a wonderful writer with a clear and direct prose style (Orwell is to the essay what Hemingway was to the short story), and had a deep interest in politics, presenting uncompromising—and usually liberal—views to the public.  Orwell had a keen ear for bullshit (just read his essay “Politics and the English Language”), constantly alerting readers when their leaders were duping them.  You’ll recognize these as qualities of Hitchens as well.

Orwell has fallen into disrepute among some writers and intellectuals, and Hitchens’s book is his attempt to refurbish Orwell’s reputation.  Much of the book lays out critics’ gripes against Orwell—critics who include some of Hitchens’s friends, like Salman Rushdie and Edward Said—and then dismantles them.  Here Hitchens is on solid ground: many of the critics either haven’t read Orwell closely enough, or pull the disreputable stunt of putting the words of Orwell’s characters into his own mouth. There are ten chapters, each defending one aspect of Orwell’s writing—the left, the empire, women, America, and so on.  Most are good, but some (e.g., “Deconstructing the Post-modernists”) are thin and tendentious. He freely admits Orwell’s problems, which include his wavering between conservative and liberal stands, but defends him ably, disposing of the charge that Orwell compiled a list of communist intellectuals for the British government.

For Hitchens, then, Orwell matters because he was a man of clarity and principle.  As he says in the last chapter:

The disputes and debates and combats in which George Orwell took part are receding into history, but the manner in which he conducted himself as a writer and participant has a reasonable chance of remaining as a historical example of its own.

But I think it’s fair to add, and it’s not a slight on Hitchens, that for him Orwell matters because Hitchens matters—and vice versa.

To benefit from this book, though, you’ll have to have read a lot of Orwell, or you’ll have no context for Hitchens’s analysis.  And by “a lot of Orwell,” I mean at least Animal Farm, 1984, Down and Out in Paris and London (or The Road to Wigan Pier), and a good dollop of Orwell’s collected essays.  Surprisingly, I found a lot of these online for free.  Hitchens does take up Orwell’s fiction, but most of it, save 1984, is decidedly inferior and can be skipped.  I highly recommend all the books I’ve just listed, as well as the four volumes of Orwell’s collected essays, which many, including myself, consider his finest writing.  The best essays are also online for free, but I especially urge you to read these (click the links to see them):

A Hanging (has one unforgettable scene)

Boys’ Weeklies (Orwell loved to write about popular culture, and did it well. See also The Art of Donald McGill, about Britain’s bawdy postcards)

Charles Dickens (some of the best stuff ever written on Dickens)

How the Poor Die (from Orwell’s time in a French hospital)

Inside the Whale (perhaps his most famous essay on politics and literature)

Lear, Tolstoy, and the Fool (Orwell wasn’t good at fiction—except for 1984 and Animal Farm—but he was a great literary critic. Here’s an example.)

Politics and the English Language (my favorite Orwell essay, it’s about how to write clearly and how politicians don’t—on purpose.  I give this piece to my students to teach them how to write)

Reflections on Gandhi (Orwell at his most curmudgeonly, taking the mickey out of an Indian saint.  I disagree with much of what he says here but recommend it nonetheless). Note that in the link the title is wrong and “Gandhi” is misspelled. This makes me worry about these online essays and recommend that you take them from the library.)

Shooting an Elephant (from Orwell’s days as a policeman in Burma. Superb prose here!)

Such, Such Were the Joys (Orwell’s analysis of his horrible days at boarding school.  A classic)

The Lion and the Unicorn (a wonderful piece on English politics)

The Spike (a “spike” is a temporary lodging for vagrants and hobos. Posing as a tramp, Orwell took to the road and produced this famous report)

and, finally, Why I Write (Orwell’s manifesto)

If you’re still dubious about Orwell, just read the short piece Shooting an Elephant.  If you don’t want more after that, there’s no hope for you!

Surprisingly, Hitchens doesn’t mention one of the most important reasons why Orwell matters: he was one of our finest prose stylists.  He had a great respect for the English language and used it to write some of the finest essays ever produced in that tongue.  Reading Orwell will not only give you the pleasure of many lascivious sentences, but, if you pay attention, will do wonders for your own writing.

Caturday felid: Pallas cat

July 24, 2010 • 5:12 am

The Pallas cat (Otocolobus manul), or manul, is hands down my favorite wild felid.  It’s about the size of a domestic cat but much stockier, is fluffy with a thick tail, has short ears, and is unbearably cute. Here’s one:

I love the racing stripes below the eyes.

Their thick fur and short ears tell you that manuls have to deal with extreme cold. Because they protrude, ears are heat radiators: that’s why you need earmuffs in winter. To conserve heat, natural selection has produced smaller ears in species that live in cold areas.  (This regularity is called “Allen’s Rule” by evolutionists.)  Manuls live in fact on the steppes of Asia; here’s their range (from Wikipedia):

You can see pictures of their natural habitat, and some photos of wild manuls in Mongolia, at the Pallas’ Cat Project.  Since their habitat is remote and the cats are solitary and shy, we don’t know a lot about their biology.  They live underground (in snow caves and abandoned animal burrows or in crevasses in the rocks) and are crepuscular or nocturnal hunters, eating small rodents, birds, and insectivores.  Manuls used to be hunted for their beautiful fur, but are now protected. Several zoos have specimens.  My favorite natural history book, Wild Cats of the World, by C. A. Guggisberg, says this about manuls:

According to Stroganov, Pallas’s cat remains wild and vicious in captivity, yet a specimen from Ladak kept by Colonel A. E. Ward became very tame, even though it always disliked strangers.  There have been reports of Pallas’s cat being kept in a semi-domestic state in various parts of Central Asia. “They differ in many ways from the domestic cat,” Pallas wrote, “but they like to mate with him.”

The cat is named for the German naturalist Peter Simon Pallas (1741-1811), who first described the species in 1776.

Of course, there’s an excuse for this information, and here it is: on May 28 four manuls were born at the Wildlife Heritage Foundation in the U.K., an organization devoted to saving wild felids.  I’ve been collecting videos of these manul kittens as they’ve been put up, and here are the first three.  Cheesy music alert  (Herb Alpert!): you may want to turn down the sound for the last two videos.

5 weeks:

6 weeks:

7 weeks:

If you want more videos, the Wildlife Heritage Foundation has its own YouTube channel.