Re: Science vs. science

From: Stephen E. Jones (sejones@iinet.net.au)
Date: Sat Feb 19 2000 - 08:05:35 EST

  • Next message: Chris Cogan: "Re: Johnson vs. science"

    Reflectorites

    Here is an article in World Magazine discussing the ID movement with biographical details
    about some of its leaders.

    I like this bit:

    "Once evolutionists read his book, they were eager to sink their teeth into Mr. Johnson, whom
    they saw as a middle-aged, Harvard-educated dilettante sticking his unscientific nose where it
    didn't belong. Critics lined up to debate him. But once engaged, his adversaries found him to
    be both ruthlessly intelligent and maddeningly congenial. With his agreeable, favorite-uncle
    face, wire-rimmed specs, and a perpetual smile in his voice, it was hard not to like Mr.
    Johnson as he shredded their arguments. And, of all things, he even wanted to be friends when
    the debates were through."

    Steve

    =============================================================================
    http://www.worldmag.com/world/issue/02-26-00/national_1.asp

    [...]

    WORLD Magazine
    Feb 26, 2000
    Volume 15
    Number 8

    [...]

    Science vs. science

    The debate over the teaching of evolution isn't just in Kansas anymore, as other states take up
    the issue. While these battles make headlines, they are the fruit of a scholarly movement that
    has shaken up the scientific establishment. WORLD talked to four "Intelligent Design"
    revolutionaries who are fighting Darwinists on their own terms
    By Lynn Vincent

    The evolution debate reignited this month as Oklahoma Attorney General Drew Edmondson
    ruled that Oklahoma's State Textbook Committee doesn't have the authority to require that
    biology textbooks carry a disclaimer that calls Darwinism a "controversial theory."
    (Committee members plan to challenge the ruling.) Meanwhile, in Louisiana, the Tangipahoa
    School Board voted 5-4 against taking a defense of a similar disclaimer to the U.S. Supreme
    Court after an appeals court declared that the disclaimer is unconstitutional.

    While none of this is good news for those who question Darwinism, one thing is clear:
    Darwinists are being forced to play defense. A major reason why is the emergence over the
    last few years of the Intelligent Design movement-a group of scholars and writers who argue
    that the world and its creatures show evidence of design. Who are some of the authors behind
    this movement? WORLD spoke with four of them.

    Ignore That Man Behind the Curtain

    In 1987, when UC Berkeley law professor Phillip Johnson asked God what he should do with
    the rest of his life, he didn't know he'd wind up playing Toto to the ersatz wizards of
    Darwinism. But a fateful trip by a London bookstore hooked Mr. Johnson on a comparative
    study of evolutionary theory. And by 1993, Mr. Johnson's book Darwin on Trial had begun
    peeling back the thin curtain of science that shielded evolution to reveal what lay behind:
    Darwinian philosophers churning out a powerful scientific mirage.

    Darwin on Trial was the result of Mr. Johnson's years-long, lawyerly dissection of arguments
    for evolution. The forensic strategies of prominent evolutionists like Richard Dawkins and
    Stephen Jay Gould reminded Mr. Johnson of courtroom sleight-of-hand: Their materialist
    definition of terms decided the debate before opening arguments could begin. "I could see," he
    said, "that evolution was not so much science as a philosophy that Darwinists had adopted in
    the teeth of the facts."

    Once evolutionists read his book, they were eager to sink their teeth into Mr. Johnson, whom
    they saw as a middle-aged, Harvard-educated dilettante sticking his unscientific nose where it
    didn't belong. Critics lined up to debate him. But once engaged, his adversaries found him to
    be both ruthlessly intelligent and maddeningly congenial. With his agreeable, favorite-uncle
    face, wire-rimmed specs, and a perpetual smile in his voice, it was hard not to like Mr.
    Johnson as he shredded their arguments. And, of all things, he even wanted to be friends when
    the debates were through.

    "I've been overplayed as a controversialist," said Mr. Johnson, who sees such bridge-building
    as his greatest strength. (God built a bridge to him during the failure of his first marriage,
    when he became a Christian believer. He met his second wife Kathie at a Presbyterian church
    conference.) "I see myself as a person who tries to build alliances and friendships. To win the
    debate, you have to carry both the moral high ground and the intellectual high ground rather
    than try to win by any sort of power tactics. That's really what we're trying to teach people."

    The "we" is the cadre of intelligent design (ID) proponents for whom Mr. Johnson acted as an
    early fulcrum. In the early 1990s, as formidable scientists and theoreticians like Michael Behe,
    William Dembski, and others emerged in support of design theory, Mr. Johnson made contact,
    exchanged flurries of email, and arranged personal meetings. He frames these alliances as a
    "wedge strategy," with himself as lead blocker and ID scientists carrying the ball in behind
    him.

    "We're unifying the divided people and dividing the unified people," he said, adding that the
    "unified people" refers to Darwinists who at present occupy increasingly dissonant camps. The
    debate, he argues, is being successfully reformulated in a way that changes the balance of
    influence and "puts the right questions on the table."

    Evidence of an influence shift comes in varied forms: For example, Paul Nelson, a graduate
    student in philosophy at the University of Chicago, was able to get approval for a Ph.D.
    dissertation arguing against the theory of common ancestry-a mighty feat at a liberal, secular
    university. (Mr. Nelson's book on the same topic will be published this year.) And Baylor
    mathematician William Dembski is spearheading a conference in April at which heavy-hitting
    secular academics will present papers on both sides of the evolutionary argument.

    Such double-edged debates delight Mr. Johnson. "The whole 'wedge' philosophy isn't that you
    present answers and people listen. It's that you get people debating the right questions, like
    'How can you tell reason from rationalization?' and 'Can natural processes create genetic
    information?'" This summer, Mr. Johnson will publish a new book, The Wedge of Truth, a
    volume that frames fundamental questions he feels people ought to be debating in the
    controversy over origins.

    "Once you get the right questions on the table," Mr. Johnson said, "you can relax a bit,
    because if people are discussing the right questions instead of the wrong ones, then the
    discussion will be moving in the direction of truth instead of away from it."

    The Third Atom Bomb

    The reeducation of Michael Behe began in a green recliner. On a chill fall night in the same
    year Mr. Johnson was seeking direction from God, Mr. Behe, a professor of biochemistry at
    Pennsylvania's Lehigh University, sat at home in that recliner, transfixed by a book that shook
    the very foundations of his own understanding of science. It was three in the morning before
    he finished Michael Denton's book, Evolution: A Theory in Crisis, and turned out the lights.
    Nine years later, Mr. Behe himself published a book that began turning out the lights on the
    theory of evolution.

    "Although I had pretty much believed evolution, because that's what I was taught, I always
    had an uneasy feeling and questions in my mind," said Mr. Behe, a Roman Catholic who grew
    up in a family of eight children in Harrisburg, Penn. "After reading Denton's book, and seeing
    his rational, scientific approach to the problem, I decided I had signed on to something that
    just was not well-supported. And, since evolution is such a strong component of many
    people's view of how the world works, I started to wonder: What else have I been told that is
    unsupported, or not true? It was a very intense, intellectual time."

    That intensity ultimately gelled into Darwin's Black Box (Free Press 1996), a book that hit
    secular scientists like an atom bomb. Charles Darwin himself had already provided a pass-fail
    test for his theory: "If it could be demonstrated that any complex organ existed which could
    not possibly have been formed by numerous, successive, slight modifications, my theory would
    absolutely break down." Mr. Behe's book (now in its 16th printing) was the first to administer
    Mr. Darwin's own test at the molecular level. Using simple yet scientifically bulletproof
    analyses, Mr. Behe showed that even at the cellular level many structures are "irreducibly
    complex," meaning that all parts of a structure have to be present in order for the structure to
    function at all. Thus, the slow, gradual changes proposed by Darwin were as likely to have led
    to the spontaneous formation of complex structures as are flour, sugar, eggs, and milk likely
    to gradually coalesce into a wedding cake.

    Mr. Behe wrote: "Applying Darwin's test to the ultra-complex world of molecular machinery
    and systems that have been discovered over the past 40 years, we can say that Darwin's theory
    has 'absolutely broken down.'"

    Most of Mr. Behe's secular critics did not, of course, agree. His work has been the target of
    both scholarly rebuttal and brainless invective. But on the whole, Darwin's Black Box received
    surprisingly respectful treatment. Not only did many Christian groups name it one of the most
    important books of the 20th century, but reporters from the mainstream press also flocked to
    Bethlehem, Penn., to see what made Mr. Behe tick. Secular universities slated him for
    speaking engagements. The venerable New York Times even shocked Mr. Behe by inviting
    him to submit an article explaining the main thesis of his book.

    Still, Mr. Behe, who seems somewhat embarrassed that his name appears on "important
    author" lists with the likes of Tolkien and Solzhenitsyn, doesn't see himself as a scientific
    crusader. He doesn't look like one either. At a recent conference on intelligent design, the
    bearded Mr. Behe emerged as the Anti-Suit. Opting to take the podium in his usual uniform of
    a plaid shirt, blue jeans, and workboots, he looked, while lecturing, like what he is: a dad.

    "I do not see myself as called to overturn thinking on evolution in the world," Mr. Behe said.
    "My primary focus is my marriage and my family. I see myself as called to raise my eight
    children, and anything else is gravy."

    But what about having written a book that decimated the fallacious underpinnings of modern
    science? That, he allows with a smile, is pretty good gravy indeed.

    God's Mathematician
    It's easy to imagine what William Dembski's wife finds in the dryer lint trap after washing her
    husband's pants: equations. Long, elegant equations replete with tangents, vectors, and
    permutations tangled unceremoniously with tissue shreds in the lint trap. When Mr. Dembski
    speaks, equations come out. When he writes, equations come out. Surely he must keep a few
    spare equations in his pockets.

    A mathematician with two Ph.D.s and director of Baylor University's Polyani Center, an
    information theory research group, Mr. Dembski is a long string-bean of a man who would
    rather listen than speak. But swirling behind his glasses and thin, angular face is an intellect
    that helped vault intelligent design theory from the realm of the possible to the province of the
    probable. His book, The Design Inference: Eliminating Chance Through Small Probabilities
    (Cambridge University Press 1998), set secular scientists' skirts afire by crafting for the first
    time a scientifically rigorous "explanatory filter" for detecting design.

    "In the scientific community, there is always the worry that when we make an attribution of
    design, that natural causes will end up explaining it," said Mr. Dembski, who is also a
    Discovery Institute senior fellow and the man whom author George Gilder once called "God's
    mathematician." "There's the sense that we 'can't do science' with design because we can't get
    a handle on it, or do it reliably. My work is aimed at refuting that view and showing that we
    can have a reliable criterion for detecting design and distinguishing it from other modes of
    explanations" of origins.

    Mr. Dembski describes his own formative concept of origins as a "vague, theistic belief." The
    son of a biologist (he now lives in Irving, Texas, with wife Jana and 8-month old daughter
    Chloe), he said: "There was a time when I accepted some form of evolutionary theory." But
    his understanding of God as the designer solidified early in his 20-year Christian walk. Still, he
    points out that his theories-and intelligent design theory in general-spells designer with a small
    d. "Although I would personally identify God as the designer on theological grounds, the Bible
    is not entering into these discussions. Intelligent design theorists are trying to make it a fully
    rigorous, scientific enterprise."

    As a result, Mr. Dembski sees not only a growing acceptance of ID theory among scientific
    faculty at Christian colleges, but also an emerging community of theistic academics at secular
    universities. But Massimo Pigliucci isn't one of them. A biologist, Mr. Pigliucci's sputtering,
    angry review of The Design Inference published in the journal BioScience called Mr.
    Dembski's work "trivial," "nonsensical," and "part of a large, well-planned movement whose
    object ... is nothing less than the destruction of modern science."

    Mr. Dembski loved it. "If the worst humiliation is not to be taken seriously, at least we're
    being taken seriously," adding that even fellow Darwinists panned Mr. Pigliucci's intemperate
    reaction to Mr. Dembski's book. "If we're generating such strong, visceral responses, we must
    be doing something right."

    Making It Clear

    When it comes to baby toys, Steve Meyer doesn't play favorites. Whether he's lecturing 19-
    year-old college freshmen or arguing for intelligent design before science elites, Mr. Meyer has
    no qualms about pressing together chains of brightly colored snap-lock beads or launching a
    superball across the room.

    All, of course, in the name of science.

    "I've found that most people, even scientists, don't mind having ideas made clear," said Mr.
    Meyer, a philosopher of science and a professor at Whitworth College in Spokane. "In
    intelligent design, making ideas clear is all to our advantage because the case for Darwinism
    really depends a lot on obfuscation. So, if [Darwinists] can conceal that with lots of difficult
    jargon and technical terminology, they can keep everybody but the experts out."

    It's Mr. Meyer's aim to let the non-experts in. Tall, intense, and personable, he calls himself a
    "shameless popularizer" and is the acknowledged PR-guy for the design movement. Speaking
    to a mixed group of scientists, philosophers, and journalists at a recent intelligent design
    conference in L.A., he blew up balloons and slapped magnetic letters on a child-sized
    whiteboard to simplify explanations of evidence for design in DNA. When he was through, the
    philosophers and journalists actually understood what he was talking about.

    Mr. Meyer arrived at his own understanding of life's origins between shifts at Atlantic
    Richfield (ARCO) oilfields in Dallas. After graduating from Whitworth in 1980, Mr. Meyer
    went to work for ARCO as a geophysicist. In 1985, a conference convened in Dallas that
    brought together top philosophers, cosmologists, and biologists to discuss the interrelationship
    of recent scientific findings and religion. Mr. Meyer, who basically wandered in off the street
    to listen in, found his own vaguely held notions of theistic evolution dismantled by former big-
    gun Darwinists who had themselves concluded that scientific evidence pointed to an intelligent
    designer of the universe.

    "For me, it was a seminal event, a turning point," Mr. Meyers said. "I saw that there was an
    exciting, intellectual program here worth pursuing." It was a turning point that would lead him
    to Cambridge University where, in 1991, he earned his doctorate in the history and philosophy
    of science for a dissertation on origin-of-life biology.

    Now, Mr. Meyer divides his time between Whitworth and his position as director of the
    Seattle-based Center for the Renewal of Science and Culture. The center, says its mission
    statement, "seeks to challenge materialism on specifically scientific grounds." Mr. Meyer said
    the center was founded as an academic end-run around secular university research
    departments held hostage by Darwinists. With its corps of 40 research fellows in disciplines
    ranging from genetics to biology to artificial intelligence, he contends the center has the
    academic firepower to engineer a profound shift in the naturalistic paradigm that now
    dominates the culture.

    For his part, Mr. Meyer stays busy with fundraising, budget management, and his own
    research on the evidence for design in DNA. (His book, DNA by Design, will be published this
    year). He also keeps design theory alive in public forums. For example, when last year's
    controversy regarding the teaching of evolution in Kansas erupted, Mr. Meyer debated
    evolutionary biologists on National Public Radio. And his science and op-ed pieces appear in
    major papers, including The Wall Street Journal and the Los Angeles Times.

    Of course, his critics publish op-eds of their own. He, like his ID colleagues, is regularly
    slammed as "anti-scientific" and "anti-intellectual."

    "The gatekeepers of evolutionary theory are very worried about the design movement," Mr.
    Meyer said. "It's got a huge appeal with students, it's framed in a way that makes their position
    very unattractive, and the evidence supports it. When it was religion versus science,
    evolutionists won that debate every time."

    Now, it's science versus science, he said. And the debate evolutionists had thought was settled
    has only just begun.

    [...]

    (c) 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999 WORLD Magazine. mailbag@worldmag.com
    =============================================================================

    --------------------------------------------------------------------
    "It is a mistake to suppose that science is an unswerving pursuit of
    objective truth. Partially it is, but only to the extent that the truth does not
    turn out to contradict what has already been taught in the educational
    process. Students in organic chemistry still learn that in 1828 Friedrich
    Woehler destroyed the old doctrine of vitalism by preparing urea from
    ammonium cyanate. But the latter almost surely had its origin in the action
    of denitrifying bacteria in the soil, so that the claimed production of a
    biological product from nonbiological sources was very likely wrong, and
    could have been seen to be wrong from Pasteur onward. Mistakes of
    scientific history are still more ineradicable. Few students are ever informed
    that the concept of evolution through natural selection was under
    discussion fully a quarter of a century before Darwin's book on the Origin
    of species. Ironically, the theory was then rejected for what was considered
    a failure of species to adapt to the environment." (Hoyle F., "Mathematics
    of Evolution", [1987], Acorn Enterprises: Memphis TN, 1999, pp104-105).
    Stephen E. Jones | sejones@iinet.net.au | http://www.iinet.net.au/~sejones
    --------------------------------------------------------------------



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