The problem with "being there"

I've been silent on this blog for a while to focus on my interim administrative appointments and on finishing  my tenure portfolio. Now seems like a good time to pick it back up, and I find myself unable to not offer a perspective on the Ham/Nye debate from last week.

Plenty of others have offered excellent commentary; I particularly recommend Biologos' responses, and the conversation that took place on their anotherchoice hashtag. I don't have much to add, except to expound on the very unsettling nature of Ham's refrain:

Were you there?

Ham used this phrase several times to question the claims of Big Bang cosmology and the evolutionary development of species. His essential idea is that, if an observer doesn't witness an event or process directly, they cannot claim that it happened. This important rule, he says, marks the difference between "historical science" and "observational science."

There are many concerns I could bring up regarding this argument. I could point out how Moses did not witness any of the events of Genesis, or how the author of Job did not witness any conversations between God and Satan. I could point out that the photons we observe in the Cosmic Microwave Background are reaching us now after journeying for 13.8 billion years, such that what we are measuring is a present event. I could point out that any observation we make is delayed by the amount of time it takes for light from the event to reach our eyes, such that we are always seeing the past, and ask the question of at what time scale observations become invalid. I could point out that Ham's organization was not there to witness the scenes from any of their paintings.

But instead, I'd like to ponder the significance of "being there" as a criterion for "real science."

I am a condensed matter physicist. I study how the behavior of materials is determined by their atomic/molecular/lattice structure. For example, lattice structure is what makes the graphite in your pencil different from a diamond, even though they're both made of carbon atoms. The carbon atoms are arranged differently in each material, so the materials behave differently (in terms of strength, transparency, density, etc.). How do we know what their structures are? We have several ways: We can bombard a sample of each material with x-rays and witness a different diffraction pattern for each; we can probe their surfaces with a tiny metal tip; we can run simulations of different lattice structures until we find one that produces the same material properties we observe experimentally.

But we never actually see these atoms' arrangements. We "aren't there," at the atomic scale; the lattice structure is so many orders of magnitude smaller than we are that we can never hope for a direct observation, just as we "weren't there" for the Big Bang or speciation.

So, if I never directly observe atomic structure, am I forbidden from publishing a lattice structure in a paper, or teaching it to my students? Does that mean that my entire field is invalid, and I should simply stick to reporting materials' properties instead of explaining them? What about chemistry, which faces a similar scale difference? What about a physician who claims that a patient is cured of a microscopic infection?

Whatever the original intention behind the "Were you there?" objection, I think it ultimately undermines all of present-day science, not just the parts that some Christians have trouble accepting.

Believe, believe, and believe

Happy 100th post!

It seems to me that Christians and scientists both become very upset around the word "believe." Here are three possible meanings that word can have:

1. "Do you believe in evolution?" In this question (presumably posed by a creationist), "believe in XYZ" means something like, "to think think idea XYZ is true." But the scientist's answer to this question is always, "No," because that's not what a scientist means when (s)he uses the word "believe." Because the scientist (typically) considers that the theoretical, observational, & experimental research that has gone into developing, confirming, and refining the evolutionary model has been sufficiently rigorous to justifiably warrant (nay, necessitate) a certainty in the model. Belief is not necessary, the scientist says (perhaps in a scoffing tone), because of sufficient supporting evidence.

2. "Do you believe in God?" In this question (presumably posed by a scientist), "believe in XYZ" means something like, "to hold idea XYZ to be true, regardless of a lack of evidence." A Christian would technically answer this question with, "yes," but this is not what Christians mean when they say they "believe in God"---or, if they're feeling specific---when they say they "have faith in God." To paraphrase James's warning, "You believe there is one God. Good for you! Of course, even the demons believe and tremble, and that faith does them no good!" Believing that God exists, Christianity says (perhaps in a chilling tone), gets you nowhere.

3. "Do you believe God?" I am eternally thankful to a good friend from summer project (hosted by what was then known as Campus Crusade for Christ) for pointing out this distinction. When Christians (usually) say that they believe in God, they mean that they "believe God"---"trust God." Far from "belief" in evolution (which is no belief at all), and from ascent to God's existence (which even the Father of Lies admits), Christian belief is an orientation of the heart, mind, and will. Christian belief is "banking our hopes" (thanks to John Piper for that one) on all that Jesus is and all that He has done for us. Trusting God, Christianity says (definitely in a hopeful and eager tone), changes everything.

So, how can we (Christians, scientists, those in the intersection of those sets, and those not in either set) be more careful with the concept of belief?

RTS Professor's Resignation

http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2010/04/09/video

I have mixed reactions to this article.

On the one hand, I respect RTS's right to govern what is taught in their classes. I think they (along with every seminary and Christian higher education institution) have a duty to the church and to God to preserve the truths of Scripture and equip the church's leaders to be lovers of truth and shepherds of people.

On the other hand...

• This issue was not brought up in an RTS class. It was not being taught as what the students "should believe." And even if it were brought up in class, being a lover of truth means understanding concepts that you don't agree with.
• Evolution is a very nonessential issue, and not one worth losing a valued colleague over. RTS has promoted the cone of certainty for so long... Have they decided to abandon it?
• What kind of example/precedent does this set? Who else at RTS is in danger of falling out of favor? How should church's who value RTS as a spiritual & intellectual trendsetter react to similar viewpoints among their leaders & congregation?
• If this professor is worried about the church losing its relevance... Shouldn't he be encouraged for his concern and willingness to step out on the prophet's limb?

Is evolution providing a new morality?

At the beginning of the semester, I sat in on a very insightful workshop session by Dr. Terry Doyle about Learner Centered Teaching (www.learnercenteredteaching.com). His thesis was based on ideas developed by Dr. John Medina, proposing that we need to rethink our teaching practices based on what we know about how the human brain works due to its evolutionary performance envelope. Medina says,

The brain appears to have been designed to solve problems related to surviving in an unstable outdoor environment and to do so in near constant motion. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IK1nMQq67VI)

Medina (and Doyle) goes on to claim that if we wanted students to learn in an environment that was "directly opposed to what the brain was really good at doing," we would put them in the traditional classroom setting. (Notice the contrast: Our students listen instead of solving problems; they see the same concrete wall every day instead of being in a changing outdoor environment; they sit still instead of moving. How many times have we seen students jostle their legs in that annoying fashion in the middle of class, much as I'm doing right now at my desk?)

Doyle then went on to describe what we should try to do differently: How we should improve the learning environment, how we should engage the students with activity, how even requiring exercise of our students would greatly improve learning, etc. And all of this was based on what we understand of how the human brain evolved.

Two things occurred to me as I was pondering this talk. First, Doyle & Medina are still figuring out the details of their new teaching scheme, as they still give lectures in the traditional format!

But second, these guys have formed a set of teaching standards---a set of "should" statements---based on an evolutionary worldview. Could one consider this set of standards to be a morality based in evolution? (Medina even titles his book Brain Rules.)

I point this out because, before the development of the Intelligent Design movement, Christians in the earlier half of the last century argued against evolutionary theory based on the idea that it could provide no basis for morality. (Hence the reason they failed at the Scopes Trial; the defenders of anti-evolutionist creationism of that day were unprepared to defend their position scientifically, and IDers have been trying to play catchup ever since.)

I think this observation brings us to an interesting question: Has the evolutionary worldview matured to a point where it is ready to provide its adherents with a morality? If so, what is this morality shaping out to look like? And how will Christians respond to this "evo-morality" when it disagrees with their own? What about when it agrees with their own?

(Note: I'm not asking whether you agree with the evolutionary worldview; I'm asking if you think the evolutionary worldview is poised to introduce a set of moral standards on its followers.)

About Me

“Abraham believed God, traveled to Egypt, rescued Lot, and was the father of Isaac. Now, was that before or after he became the sixteenth President, fought the Civil War and freed the slaves?” –Me, Age 8

I was often very confused as a child. I knew for certain there were two things I needed to succeed at: school and church. And these were both very similar: We read at both school and church, we learned history at both school and church, we were asked questions at both school and church, we moved from one grade to another at both school and church. They were so similar that I thought that they surely must be related.

That’s where the confusion came in, leading to questions like the one I quoted earlier. School seemed to get more serious (requiring more reading and more homework, playing fewer games and getting fewer breaks) while church (particularly Sunday school) didn’t seem to change all that much (never requiring homework, playing games even when we seemed too old for them, and spending as much time in chit-chat as we did opening the Bible). There was also a growing difference in content. In school, we learned more details year after year, had to memorize the years that events happened, had to learn how everything (science, math, American history, the Renaissance, the French Revolution, technology, etc.) fit together. In church, though, no one ever seemed to say in what year the events in the Bible occurred, nor did we really learn how everything fit together; I had the vague feeling that Jesus came after everybody in the front of the Bible, but not much else.

Little did my middle-school-self know, my questions about how the things I learned at school and church related to each other told the story of conflict and estrangement between the church and the academy.

I remember in ninth grade when one of my classmates in Biology who also attended my church asked our Youth Pastor to pray for us, since we were studying evolution. “We’re not studying evolution,” I responded. “We’re just studying taxonomy. Evolution’s not until the next chapter.” It was as if getting even close to evolutionary theory was like looking into the sun for this student, and I didn’t understand why.

I remember in tenth grade in World History, we spent a chapter studying the Reformation. “Luther,” I read in my textbook, “made the radical claim that salvation was based on faith in God, and not on works.” “But,” I responded, in shock, “that’s what I believe!” I then had two questions that have haunted me ever since: 1. What did people believe before that? 2. Why did no one in church tell me about this history? The first question has been more or less settled in my mind. The second question, I have come to realize, is a form of the tension between Christian faith and academic study that has developed over the years.

Experiences like those in Biology and World History have largely shaped me today, leading me to ask questions about how my faith as a Christian relates to my study and teaching as a professor. I’ve received abundant help from other Christian scholars in venues such as the Christian Study Center of Gainesville and in books such as The Outrageous Idea of Christian Scholarship, Habits of the Mind, and The Decline of the Secular University. It’s my hope that this blog will serve as a sounding board for those questions and provide help to others as they wrestle with similar issues. Thank you for joining me.