Imagination is often used for play, but Timothy Williamson reminds us that imagination is critical for serious thinking:
[I]magination is not only about fiction: it is integral to our painful progress in separating fiction from fact. Although fiction is a playful use of imagination, not all uses of imagination are playful. Like a cat’s play with a mouse, fiction may both emerge as a by-product of un-playful uses and hone one’s skills for them.
At AlterNet, Greta Christina has written an article titled, "Why Near-Death Experiences Are a Flimsy Justification for the Idea That We Have Immortal Souls." She argues that the evidence supporting the independent soul is "unfalsifiable."
[It] is flimsy at best. It is unsubstantiated. It comes largely from personal anecdotes. It is internally inconsistent. . . . The evidence supporting the "independent soul" explanation is flimsy at best. It is unsubstantiated. It comes largely from personal anecdotes. It is internally inconsistent. It is shot through with discrepancies. It is loaded with biases and cognitive errors -- especially confirmation bias, the tendency to exaggerate evidence that confirms what we already believe, and to ignore evidence that contradicts it. It has methodological errors that a sixth-grade science project winner could spot in 10 seconds. And that includes the evidence of near-death experiences. There is not a single account of an immaterial soul leaving the body in a near-death experience that meets the gold standard of scientific evidence. Not even close.Christina bristles at the believer argument that scientists are "biased." Yes, they are, but not in the way that many believers argue:
Scientists are human, too: they don't want to die, and they'd be just as happy as anyone to learn that they were going to live forever.Christina also points out that the trauma of near death is an altered brain state that can account for any altered perception:
Weird things often happen to people's minds during altered states of consciousness. Exhaustion, stress, distraction, trance-like repetition, optical illusion, sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, sensory overload... any of these physical changes to the brain, and more, can create vivid "perceptions" that are entirely disconnected from reality. It's been extensively demonstrated. And being near death is an altered state of consciousness, a physical change to the brain.I agree with Christina's arguments. I would extend them to those who suggest that they can give accurate accounts of what it is like to have a stroke, relying solely on introspection.
The FBI apparently has nothing better to do than to threaten Wikipedia for displaying an image of its seal. At the risk of overgeneralizing, this is a peek into the law enforcement psyche, which tends toward thuggishness.
The 80/20 Rule seems to apply to many areas of life, including the return for the investment one gets from reading. 80% of the excellent ideas I read seem to result from 20% of the authors I read. The trick, then, is to choose carefully when picking up a book. Make sure that the author is a high-quality thinker/writer, and you'll end up getting a mind expanding education merely by following a few dozen authors. That is my experience, anyway.
For me, one of those high-quality authors is primatologist Frans de Waal. I have just finished De Waal's most recent book, The Age of Empathy: Nature's Lessons for a Kinder Society (2009) (here is my earlier post on this same book). De Waal makes so many compelling points in his book that I'm tempted to simply throw up my hands and urge everyone to go read this book. Truly, there is a terrific new idea or two every few pages, most of which have application to the increasingly strained modern human condition. 
Starting around page 206, De Waal makes a strong case for the emotional continuity between all animals (and especially other primates) and human animals. Yet, so many people or uncomfortable with the existence of this continuity. They would much rather believe that humans are not animals, and that humans somehow stand outside of nature, whereas all the other animals are part of nature. I have written before about the importance of recognizing that humans don't stand outside of nature, but that we are full-fledged animals.
De Waal believes that this reluctance to talk about our animal emotions is caused by certain types of religious, "particularly religions that arose in isolation from animals that look like us." He explains:
With monkeys and apes around every corner, no rain forest culture has ever produced a religion that places humans outside of nature. Similarly, in the East--surrounded by native primates in India, China, and Japan--religions don't draw a sharp line between humans and other animals. Reincarnation occurs in many shapes and forms: a man may become a fish and a fish may become God. Monkey gods, such as Hanuman, are common. Only the Judeo-Christian religions place humans on a pedestal, making them the only species with a soul. It's not hard to see how desert nomads might have arrived at this view. Without animals to hold up a mirror to them, the notion that were alone came naturally to them. They saw themselves as created in God's image and as the only intelligent life on earth. Even today we're so convinced of this that we search for other of such life by training powerful telescopes on distant galaxies.De Waal describes how shocked Westerners were when chimpanzees and monkeys started arriving at Western zoos in the 1830s. He points out that this exposure to other primates occurred relatively recently for many Westerners, "long after Western religion had spread its creed of human exceptionalism to all corners of knowledge." De Waal's idea is as powerful as it is elegant. It makes good sense too. People who are exposed to a variety of animals with various gradations of "humanness" would certainly be more comfortable with the idea of biological continuity, with his Darwinian idea that human animals are cousins with every other living thing on the planet. De Waal clarifies that we Westerners are actually inconsistent with regard to our resistance to this idea that we are continuous with all other life forms. We stack the deck:
When it comes to characteristics that we don't like about ourselves, continuity is rarely an issue. As soon as people kill, abandon, rape, or otherwise mistreat one another, we are quick to blame it on our genes. Warfare and aggression are widely recognized as biological traits, and no one thinks twice about pointing at ants or chimps for parallels. It's only with regard to noble characteristics that continuity is an issue and empathy is a case in point.De Waal points out that many well-accomplished scientists have worked feverishly to seek "specialness" in humans. They focus their efforts on trying to find something to distinguish humans from the "animals." As De Waal suggests, they are likely to "discover" that these differences are most pronounced in the noble traits. It's time to recognize the one-sidedness of these efforts, however.
My main point, however, is not whether the proposed distinctions are real or imagined, but why all of them need to be in our favor. Aren't humans at least equally special with respect to torture, genocide, deception, exploitation, indoctrination, and environmental destruction? Why does every list of human distinctiveness need to have the flavor of a feel-good note?
The linked video is an example of a father (John) having a romantic relationship with his own daughter (Jenny) and having children with her. The documentary also introduces viewers to a romantically involved half-brother and half-sister. But doesn't nature rig close relatives so that they are sexually repulsed from each other? Yes, but only if they live in close proximity during a critical early developmental window. This potential desensitization to sexual attraction is referred to as the Westermarck Effect. In the case of John and Jenny, the daughter had essentially no contact with her father for the first three decades of her life. Same situation with the half-siblings. Without the Westermarck effect to pull back on the reins, "genetic sexual attraction" kicks in to supercharge the romance. Notice how the moralistic and legalistic discussion in this documentary runs orthogonally to the biological research. Not once is the Westermarck Effect discussed, even though it sheds substantial light on these situations. It often occurs to me that we'd be better off analyzing social situations in terms of evolution and ecology in addition to legality and morality, but that would deprive us of so many opportunities to engage in angry finger-pointing and judgmental barking. To consider the science would admittedly require some effort, something that many of today's self-assured people are unwilling to do. If people did take the time to think things through more rigorously, however, they would likely see that this "father" and this "daughter" are dramatically unlike prototypical fathers and daughters in dramatic ways that correlate to solid biological and psychological research. If they took the time to understand this situation using (easily available) science rather than simply folk-morality, even the harshest critics of these couples might have the following thought: If I had been in that situation, these same sorts of powerful attractions might have overwhelmed me too. A perspective infused with even a bit of science would have set a different tone for this entire documentary. A bit of scientifically-informed self-critical thinking might even open the door for a more empathetic perspective. It's a new multidisciplinary world out there with regard to "morality," as psychologist Jonathan Haidt eloquently explains at Edge.