I love xkcd, especially this comic:

As a linguist, I can tell you, people are always decrying the decline of the English language; doomsayers lament that this may be the last generation marginally capable of stringing together words into a grammatical sentence!

But that’s simply not true.

Language has survived this far, and it will continue to survive indefinitely–if in slightly different forms. Common ‘pet peeves’ are actually symptoms of language change. For example, the inability to correctly execute the traditional distinction between ‘lay’ and ‘lie,’ pronouncing ‘pillow’ to rhyme with ‘fellow,’ and contractions like ‘gonna’ are signals of things to come: the next stage of English.

However, returning to the comic, I’d like to make a quick counterpoint. While there is no danger of humanity devolving into a quivering mass of stupid–à la Idiocracy–there is a very real danger of entering a dark age if we fail to educate ourselves. For this, there is precedence, and history has a demonstrated tendency to repeat itself.

I agree that the solution is not to institute selective breeding programs, but if we are at all concerned with the perpetuity of our species, we should make it our utmost priority to make education and information widely available, and to stamp out superstition and prejudice. That might mean socializing education a little more.

Humans are evolution’s only experiment with higher intelligence, as is evidenced by our mastery of mathematics, language, engineering, space travel, medicine, and many other fields in which we have visibly demonstrated command of the world around us. Sure, dolphins and octopodes may have highly developed brains, but they don’t print books or manufacture nuclear bombs. We’re clearly the smartest things on the planet.

Many people believe that this makes us special; that we are evolution’s end product, the creator’s chosen race, or simply that we are the “highest” form of life. But I mostly reject that idea.

Intelligence is just what we do. Birds fly, sharks have sharp teeth, and humans build cities. This in no way makes us “higher” than any other organism, it just makes us the best at being smart. Nature is full of “best at”s. Cheetahs are the best at running, and if they were capable of designating a “highest” form of life, it would surely be themselves, because the metric they would use would be the one most useful to them as an organism: speed.

An obvious counterpoint is that intelligence makes us “best at” anything we want. Cheetahs can admire our high-speed trains, sharks our knives, and birds our jets. However, it’s useful to remember that despite our intelligence, we are not the most successful earth creatures by any measure. That honor goes to the most inconspicuous of our neighbors: microorganisms. To any objective observer, humans–along with most species of animal–are a fragile lot, perpetually on the verge of extinction. The best way to gauge the “highest” life-form may simply be its ability to perpetuate itself. If that’s the case, the nuclear bomb puts us far lower on the ladder.

I have recently been repeatedly confronted with the philosophical quandary of whether or not our perceptions of reality can be trusted, or if our internal models of the world around us are bound to be riddled with flaws and misrepresentations. A fellow blogger has spurred be to put down my thoughts in writing.

I think you have to begin by admitting that we can never know if our senses do justice to reality, because we have no other way to gauge their efficacy than by our senses themselves. However, ultimately, I think they do a pretty damn good job.

I’ve found evidence for this in the fact that a brain is, in its most basic form, an input-output system. Input stimulus: output response to stimulus. Evolution tunes the system to give the proper response to the proper stimulus, and therefore to be faithful to reality. For example, we have a vermicompost box, and when we want to get the worms to move in a certain direction, we expose them to light. They promptly wriggle in the direction of the nearest shade. If their flee response weren’t faithful to reality, they’d fry to death, or waste valuable energy wriggling when there was no sun.

Granted, the human brain is more sophisticated than that, because it has a complex intermediate step of model building based on memory. This apparatus allows synchronic tuning of responses to stimuli, as opposed to letting natural selection tune them. However it’s still just an elaborate version of “when the world is this way, respond in that way.”

Therefore, if you’re not building an accurate model of the world around you, then your brain isn’t performing its function. Evolution should then select for brains that make increasingly accurate models of the surrounding environment, or at least as accurate as any given organism needs (a human needs no sense for surface tension, but a water strider needs no sense for vertical orientation). Sure, there are glitches in the system, and they give rise to models that belie reality, but only in trivial ways: like optical illusions, pareidolia, and religion.

And there’s my daily epiphany: religion belies reality only in trivial ways. The belief that there is an invisible man in the sky who sees everything you do fits neatly into the gaps in our perception in such a way that it cannot be disproven, and it does not (often) dictate our reactions to stimuli. If it interfered with our model-building apparatus in either of these ways, evolution would have–and modern science could have–disposed of it quickly.

In closing, I’d like to analogize the brain to a house; the function of the brain is to construct models of the world, and the function of a house is to protect its inhabitants. You can build a house out of all kinds of things (aluminum, bricks, adobe etc.), and while you’ll have different engineering strategies based on the materials you are using–and different drawbacks with each–the end goal is still to create shelter (in the case of the brain, to build faithful models). Evolution set us on a particular path, with a particular set of materials–namely, the more basic reptilian and mammalian brains–and the drawbacks inherent thereto. The evolutionary history of the brain presents a unique set of obstacles to building a functional model-building apparatus, and has crucially informed its eventual architecture, in the same way selecting Play-Doh as the building material for your house would present a unique set of obstacles to its construction. Surely, it’d be better to choose bricks than Play-Doh, but evolution won’t let you switch materials mid-build, but we got as close as we could. Obviously, the materials we got stuck with weren’t that bad, because we’re still here. And our model building apparatus can’t be that bad either.

The first thing we notice about the world around us is that it’s self sustaining. Every observable effect has an observable cause: babies are born because eggs are fertilized; rain comes from clouds, which form from evaporated water; the sun rises and sets because the earth is spinning. These processes are no longer miracles because at no point do we need to assume an interventionist deity to explain them.

Not only does the world exist independently, but we don’t even expect god to intervene when we want him to. When I drop my toast, I don’t expect a little chariot of cherubim to intercept it before it hits the ground. I shouldn’t expect to wake up with straighter teeth if go to church enough. Alleged instances of god intervening on someone’s behalf can always just as easily be attributed to fortuitous chance. For example, he only cures diseases that might have gotten better anyway — he never heals amputees. If there is a god, he has apparently made the universe in such a way that it can exist independently, and without his continued tinkering.

This is why intelligent design is so unappealing to me. It admits that that natural systems are pretty much self contained, but at the same time, invokes a creator to explain certain special cases, like the bacterial flagellum, the bombardier beetle, or the blood clotting cascade. It’s inconsistent. I mean, if an omniscient, omnipontent god went to all this trouble to create a world that functioned without him, he could have accomplished it, right?

Presumably he could have, but creationists and design proponents seem to think we would be able to catch this guy with his finger in the pudding if we find examples of ‘irreducible complexity.’ These are places where conventional evolutionary explanations are purported to break down. One of their favorite examples is the bombardier beetle, an animal with a very strange defense mechanism. The beetle ejects two chemicals from its body to create a boiling hot spray that drives away predators. Design proponents say that since neither of the chemical components is of any use to the beetle without the other — the system could not be simplified and still be functional, hence irreducible complexity — this constitutes evidence for an all-in-one-go biological creation. Come on!

We have natural explanations for the hand, the eye, goosebumps, canine teeth, the spinal cord, mammary glands, feathers, flippers, egg laying, and camouflage, why wouldn’t evolution or physics explain a chemical reaction that happens on the back of a beetle?* If that were the case, we’d have to assume god stopped short of creating a pristine universe free of all supernatural influences, and just bitched out in a few places. This doesn’t really say much for god’s alleged omnipotence.

Imagine god, in the process of creation, working himself into a corner. “Shucks, I did all that work laying out the evidence for evolution — working in all of those details about common descent, features shared in lineages, the fossil record – but now I have to find a way for this bacterium to locomote. Oh well, they’ll never be able to see anything this small, so they won’t mind if I cheat a bit.” This is totally unsatisfying from both a scientific, and theological standpoint.

It makes no sense why god would make a clockwork this intricate, carefully avoiding leaving evidence of his agency, and then in handful of places, slip up or get lazy. However, a creationist/design proponent may come back with the old ‘god works in mysterious ways, that we may not understand.’ If they want to play it that way, then they should admit that they aren’t actually in the business of explaining things.

Personally, I think life is wondrous mainly because of things like the bacterial flagellum and the blood clotting cascade, which are so remarkably unlikely they must give you pause. That these seemingly irreducibly complex things have an explanation within the bounds of physics and evolution should be something to marvel at.

*Hint: It does.