My disorientation

I’m finding myself to be disoriented tonight. You see, it has occurred to me (as it sometimes does) that I’m actually an incredibly complex community of trillions of individual cells, no single one of which is capable of having any conscious thought, though I am easily able to think consciously as a complex adaptive system of cells. I'm also disoriented because it occurs to me tonight that this community of that is “me” is kept alive and conscious by an internal pulsing ocean of blood, its composition very much like the Earth’s oceans, which were apparently our ancestral home. Equally amazing, this internal ocean of blood is pumped through 60,000 mile of blood vessels by a heart that beats 100,000 each day, thanks to our incredibly reliable pacemaker cells. How can any of this possibly be true, except that it is true, because I am writing this post and you are reading it? It also occurs to me that there are far too many other parts of my human body that I almost always take for granted, such as my liver, which continuously performs hundreds of chemical processes without any conscious help from “me" (not that I could possibly be of assistance). Even more amazing, the liver can repair itself. How is any of this remotely possible? There are many other things on my mind tonight, all of which disorient me, because I'm trying to clear out my preconceptions and see these things as though I were seeing them for the first time. For instance, I seem to have evolved from viruses, which is mind-blowing. Actually, half of all human DNA originally came from viruses which embedded themselves into my ancestor’s gametes. Neurons - creative commons (image by UC Regents) But I'm not done describing my disorientation. I am also disoriented tonight because I've reminded myself that some of my ancestors were sponges. No, they didn’t just look like sponges; they were sponges. And once cells figured out how to thrive together in that primitive sponge-like way, things rapidly got far more interesting. This real-world story of human gills, paws and fur is more amazing than any fiction anyone could ever write. Tonight, I am also thinking about several people I know who are fighting for their lives against illness. I sometimes hear their friends and family asking how it could happen that the patients got so sick. But I’ve got a different take on human frailty, sickness and death. I wonder how something so complex as the human body works at all. Ever. Truly, how is it that I can even wiggle one of my fingers? But there’s yet more to my disorientation tonight. It also occurs to me that the community of cells that constitutes me is living on a huge rotating orb that revolves around a star so big that it makes the earth look like a speck. But there's more. It seems that the universe in which we find ourselves is expanding, but from what? How did it get here? I don't trust any answers that I've ever heard. I'm assuming that some type of universe or multi-verse has always been here in one form or another, and that's admittedly my bald speculative assumption. I don't even know enough to have a belief on the topic. It also disorients me that no one really knows why things exist in this way rather than in some other way or no way at all, although many people peddle simplistic answers--mere strings of words--in response to these basic questions. The biggest reason I’m disoriented tonight is that it appears that we don’t even know how to ask the biggest questions--we betray our naive ways even by the way we describe such questions as "big." Our “whys” and "hows" are pale and shallow—we appear to be condemned to forever dabble with our conceptual metaphors in our attempts to understand our complicated existence. We seem to be trapped in our finite understanding, unable to ever get around our own corner. That's the way it seems to be to me tonight, and every time these sorts of thought come to mind. I'm disoriented, but don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I am truly enjoying the ride. I never cease to be amazed.

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Daniel Dennett: Why Darwin’s idea was the greatest ever

In this terrifically engaging and accessible video interview, Daniel Dennett (talking with Richard Dawkins) explains his view that Darwin's idea was the greatest idea ever. Dennett, who authored Darwin's Dangerous Idea explains that natural selection unified the world of mechanism/material/physical and the world of meaning/purpose/goals which, until Darwin, seemed to be unbridgeable. Many people feel that Darwin's idea destroyed their sense of meaning, but Dennett argues that this "immaterial immortal soul" is a "crutch," and that Darwin replaced that idea with that of a "material mortal soul." Dennett describes our material souls as made of neurons. "They are blind little bio-robots . . . They don't know; they don't care; they are just doing their jobs." If you put enough of these simple little bio-robots together, you end up with a soul. Out of these little bio-robots, you can assemble the control system of a complex organism. Simple little parts can self-organize into sentient being that can "look into the future . . . because we can imagine the world in a better way, and we can hold each other responsible for that." There's no need to assume that a God implants any sort of soul. Rather, according to Dennett, a functional soul can "emerge" from soul-less little individual parts. The simple little parts don't need to exhibit the functions and abilities of the assembled groups of parts, but this illusory jump is a huge stumbling block for many theists. They wonder how you can "make a living thing out of dead stuff," but that is exactly what happens, "and that's the wonder of it." Science has also shown that you can also "make a conscious thing out of unconscious stuff." Over great periods of time, natural processes can constitute the design function that allows these incredible results we see in the world. It is not necessary that complex things need to be created by even more complex things. Darwin's ideas destroyed this misconception and "this is a really stunning fact. Purpose can emerge from the bottom up." The brain itself is a fast-paced evolutionary device; the learning process is a matter of generation and testing and pruning, over and over. Dawkins asks Dennett to explain further how "cranes" (simple natural processes) can really account for the wonderful complexity of life in the absence of "sky-hooks" (supernatural beings). You could argue that our planet has grown a nervous system and it's us. The above summarizes only the first ten minutes of the fifty-minute interview. Numerous other topics are discussed in the video, including the following: - Modern wars and strife constitute growing pains resulting from our being flooded with great amounts of information about each other. (15:00) - Cultural evolution clearly exists. Languages and musical ideas evolve, for example, without anyone initially consciously "laying down the law." - Dennett's recent brush with death (his aorta suddenly burst), resulting in many intriguing observations (21:00), including a deepened understanding of the phrase "thank goodness." You can put goodness back into the world, "and you don't need a middleman" (God). You can directly thank the doctors, nurses and medical journalists, the peer reviewers and the entire scientific enterprise that allows elaborate cures such as artificial aortas. According to Dennett, don't bother thanking God, "go plant a tree, go try to teach somebody something . . . let's make the world better for our children and our grandchildren." - Dennett elaborates on being part of this elaborate social and scientific fabric, this complex exploratory process. He finds this view much more inspiring that the idea that he is "a doll made by God . . . to pray to him." (24:00) - The scientific process is double-edged, exacerbated by the Internet. We can't tightly control this information, and their effects might be detrimental. We need to think "epidemiologically" about this possibility, and to better prepare people to deal with the ideas gone awry to protect them. (26:00) Knowledge can be a "painful process," yet we need to honor other people to make their own considered decisions. - Darwin offers some consolation regarding our impending deaths: that they had the opportunity to walk on this planet "for awhile." (29:00) Dawkins adds that it is a huge privilege to have been born, in that "you are lucky to have had anything at all . . . stop moaning." Dennett adds that we are not aghast at the thought that there were many years that passed before we were born when we were also not alive . . . it shouldn't bother us that we will someday again no longer be alive. Our grief at someone's death is a measure of how wonderful someone was. - The urge to thank someone for the many good things in one's life is a great temptation for believing in God. (33:00). Dawkins argues that contemplating that amazing process that gave rise to you "is better than thanking because it is a thoughtful thing to do . . . You're not just thanking your Sky-Daddy." He argues that the urge to thank should be "sublimated" into the drive to understand how it all happened. Atheists, too, can feel the sense of "awe." Dennett exclaims, "Hallelujah! It's just spectacular. It's so wonderful! The universe is fantastic!" Dawkins adds, "Hallelujah for the universe and for the fact that we . . . are working on understanding it." This June 2009 video is uncut; it is the full Dennett interview by Richard Dawkins. Parts of this interview were used in a British television documentary entitled "The Genius of Charles Darwin."

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Desiring God

At Daylight Atheism, Ebonmuse points out how odd it is that the God of the Bible allegedly desires certain things (e.g., he likes sacrifices). But, as Ebonmuse explains, it should strike us as odd that the creator of the universe would have desires:

The belief that God wants and desires certain things is a common thread in monotheism. But when you think about it, this is a profoundly strange belief. Most theists don't recognize this, but that's because the analogy between God and human beings masks the strangeness of it. After all, we all understand how, and why, human beings come to hold certain desires. We have instinctual physiological drives, installed in us by evolution, for basic things like food, sex and companionship. We have more complex desires as a result of culture, upbringing and past experience for things that we think will add to our happiness or help fulfill the more basic desires. Every one of us has gone through a long, complex and contingent process of development that shaped our likes and dislikes. But God, so we're told, is eternal and unchanging. He is pure reason, pure mind, pure spirit - no physical needs to fulfill, no past history, none of the contingent events that make human nature what it is. So how is it that he has, just like us, a complex nature with specific likes and dislikes?
The post is somewhat tongue-in-cheek , but Ebonmuse makes a serious point that theists really should confront, but they never actually do confront it. Instead, they concoct "souls" and "spirits." I would spin the issue this way. All desires, many of which stem from emotions, are associated with bodies. Without a body, there cannot be any emotion and thus there cannot be any form of craving or desire. There isn't a jot of evidence that there has ever been any thought in the absence of a body. Further, there is no such thing as free-standing self-sufficient meaning; there is no such thing as meaning independent of a physical body; all meaning is embodied. I know that many believers would find my conclusions to be disturbing, but this is the direction I am turned when I rely upon the (expansive) scientific view of what it means to be a human animal (and see this entire category).

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Gifts that tell good stories

Geoffrey Miller has written an extraordinary book, Spent, that challenges us to recognize that our ubiquitous efforts to decorate ourselves and others with goods and services are primarily to project image and status. (and see here and here) "Many products are signals first and material objects second." The result is that we often engage in a vast orgy of spending mostly to look good in the eyes of others. What does this have to do with Christmas? We humans are also creatures who are always looking for shortcuts. Many of us have deliberately chosen to work long hours as part of "career" choices in order to make more money. Most of us who have who have made extra money as a result of those long hours at the office would much rather burn off some of that money at a store than to spend our severely limited amounts of time creating goods or providing services. We'd like to believe that our gift-giving is a display of our good intentions and of who we are, but as Miller points out, the store-bought gifts so many of us buy serve only to display only a narrow range of qualities regarding who we are:

Buying new, real, branded, premium products at full price from chain-store retailers is the last refuge of the unimaginative consumer, and it should be your last option. It offers low narrative value--no stories to tell about interesting people, places, and events associated with the product' design, provenance, acquisition, or use. It reveals nothing about you except your spending capacity and your gullibility, conformism, and unconsciousness as a consumer. It grows no physical, social or cultural roots into your local environment. It does not promote trust, reciprocity, or social capital. It does not expand your circle of friends and acquaintances. It does not lead you to learn more about the convention, manufacture, operation, or maintenance of the things around you. Retail spending reveals such a narrow range of traits: the capacities to earn, steal, marry, or inherit wealth, and the perceptual memory and media access required to spend the wealth on whatever is advertised most avidly now.
(p. 271 ff). Those who procure gifts with a moment's thought or two, and with the help of credit cards, often fail in their attempts to impress. Retail spending pointedly fails:
[a]s a costly, reliable signal of one's dedication to a particular person (in the case of gifts), or to a particular acquisition (in the case of things bought for self display).
Miller reminds us that creating something yourself speaks much more loudly than a premade thing purchased at retail. The proof is that gifts which require personal time and creativity make much better "stories" to tell to family and friends. I largely agree with Miller, though I think that retail spending can make a compelling story in some circumstances. For instance, what if someone has limited financial means, yet digs deeply in order to purchase a nonfrivolous gift that another person truly needs (e.g., assume that someone of limited means provided a student with books that were desperately needed for a coming semester). During the Christmas season, however, Miller's version of retail spending is a common occurrence. Most of us patronize retail stores in order to send out ready-made gifts. This much is not disputed. What can be disputed in an interesting way, is why . Many people would claim that we give gifts to each other because we "care about" or "love" each other. Miller's writings dig several levels deeper, recognizing that we are human animals who have come equipped with deeply felt needs to display our traits to each other, and that we resort to retails gift giving to serve these deep urges. In other words, Miller resource to biology rather than folk psychology:

Biology offers an answer. Humans evolved in small social groups in which image and status were all important, not only for survival, but for attracting mates, impressing friends, and rearing children.

(p. 1). During this Christmas season, and at all other times of the year, it is fascinating to re-frame the widespread displays of gift-giving as anciently-honed and deeply-rooted biological impulses geared to ensure survival. For more, consider this post, entitled "Shopping for Sex" and this post on The Church of Stop Shopping.

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