Thursday, January 12, 2012

Truth and the Age of the Universe

The universe, as we know it, is 13.75 billion years old. This is known with a pretty high degree of accuracy, plus or minus 0.13 billion years. Now hold on, stay with me.

Any scientific measurement has a margin of error. Some measurements can be done very accurately; the fine-structure constant, for example, is known to about one part in a trillion, while the gravitational constant is known to about one part in a hundred. A lot of practical science consists of working to get better and more accurate measurements of quantities like this.

Some people feel, based primarily on the Biblical accounts of the creation, that the earth is a few thousand years old, maybe a few tens of thousands, with the accepted figure varying based on who you talk to. The Irish (but Anglican) Archbishop James Ussher, for example, most famously calculated the creation to have taken place in 4004 BC, by a process often derided as "counting the begats," although that's a misrepresentation of a more sophisticated work of scholarship. More recently, disgraced doomsday preacher Harold Camping maintains that the creation occured in 11,013 BC, while other people, going through the same set of data, have come up with such dates as 12,000 BC, 6894 BC and 3947 BC. The "official" Jewish date (the Hebrew calendar counts years since the creation) corresponds to 3760 BC, but even this was not agreed upon by Jews until Maimonides settled the argument in the 12th century.

Why the disagreement? If we take the creation dates given above we get an average of 6936 BC, but the margin of error is gigantic. If the know the fine structure constant to fifteen decimal places and the gravitational constant to two, the biblically-derived dates above give us an accuracy of zero decimal places! The reason, of course, is that the Bible is not information that can be measured empirically for this purpose. It's not data in the scientific sense, and using it as such requires many gaps to be filled and assumptions to be made, gaps that are filled by the convictions and prejudices of the people making the estimate.

This kind of thing creeps into science from time to time, of course, but it gets ruthlessly stamped out when it's identified, which happens inevitably as new data comes in. These days, before most folks agree on a measurement, it needs to be taken many time, using multiple methods, and the uncertainties, in the form of a margin of error, need to be clearly stated, or minimally, the result itself needs to be stated in the number of significant figures we're sure of. So stated more formally, we know the age of the universe (as we know it) to be 13.75 ± 0.13 billion years. Since it's known with certainty to two significant figures, this often gets shortened to "13 billion years."

This illustrates one problem communicating scientific information to non-scientists. Such terms as "theory," and for that matter "age of the universe" mean something different and more precise to scientists than they do in everyday speech. When your woman on the street hears "age of the univrse," she's likely to think of it as something like "the time that's elapsed since everything first came into existence," based on the common idea of what the word "universe" means. But a cosmologist hears "the age of the Lambda-Cold Dark Matter Expansion epoch," which means something rather different — the age of some portion of everything that exists, which happens to contain the entire visible universe, but not necessarily "everything that exists."

I'm avoiding linking these scientific terms because I think it'll confuse the issue, but you're free to Google them if you're really curious. The point is that the people who accept the biblical date (more or less) and those who accept the scientific date (more or less) aren't speaking the same language, and so are talking past each other, for the most part.

This is a failure, really, of the American educational system. There's a reason, after all, why the debates between Cosmology and Creationism and Evolution and Creationism are by and large not happening in other advanced nations, and why Americans feel pressured to choose between their faith and established scientific facts. A conflict is seen where none really exists, as people who speak both languages understand, like Francis Collins and Georges Lemaître. Folks who speak the language of faith but not that of science, who feel forced to choose between accepting "what the Bible says" versus "what scientists say" of course stick with the Bible.

The most visible and outspoken advocates of the "new atheism," Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens (both Brits, which may be no coincidence, and both of whom I have enormous respect for,) are tone-deaf when speaking to American audiences about this subject, and Dawkins was even been called on this publicly (but very politely) by Neil deGrasse Tyson. Dawkins does not, as Hitchens did not, speak the language of faith, so they pose the same kind of black-and-white conflict that Ray Comfort does from the opposite side. It's a position that may work better in far less religious Europe, but it's harder going here, and I suspect that it creates more enemies than converts.

From this standpoint, a work like Jerry's Coyne's Why Evolution Is True is much more valuable than Dawkins's brand of fiery atheism.

Framed properly, the debate should not be Christianity vs. Atheism, but whether one should accept the scientific understanding, so amply demonstrated in both theory and evidence that it's indistinguishable from colloquial "fact." Let the truth speak for itself, and educate those who don't understand that truth and how it was arrived at. This is, as history shows, considerably harder than denouncing those who don't accept the scientific version as troglodytes, but it's the right thing to do both ethically and pragmatically. The truth can carry itself, you just have to let it do the work, no matter how hard the task of explaining it to people.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Christopher Hitchens 1949-2011

This post will be considered untimely, as the death of Christopher Hitchens occurred last thursday. He will be remembered as a great writer, a great wit and, with Richard Dawkins, one of the great voices in what is dismissively referred to as the "New Atheism."

I have frankly not read as much of either as I would like. But it seems to me that Hitchens differs from Dawkins in his opposition to religion. What Dawkins attacks as an affront to science and rationalism, Hitchens' strongest and most eloquent assaults on the edifice of faith were moral ones. He argued, and persuasively, that the God of the Abrahamic religions differs only in its degree of relative power over the individual from human dictatorships in the vein of Hitler and the now-deceased Kim Jong-il. (The running joke, on Twitter, is that Hitch and Václav Havel got to pick the third of the trio.)

Because everyone understands, or thinks they understand, the fundamentals of morality, his rhetoric is to my mind more accessible than Dawkins', cloaked as it is to the layman behind what seems an unassailable wall of complicated science. By making the case that religion is essentially immoral rather than merely factually incorrect, shifty arguments against, for example, evolution, disguised with jargon to confuse the layperson, could find no footing in debate with him. This explains how he could be friends with many people of faith - they found common ground on issues of morality even if they disagreed with where Hitchens led those arguments. He could respect a person of faith who shared that common ground; that's harder to do when you think that a person of faith is necessarily intellectually deficient. He was a deep and complex thinker, and a hard man to agree with on every point.  I think he would disapprove of someone who did.

Hitch was famed as a fierce debater, called by some the "Lion of Atheism," and was always strident in his denouncements of both evil and idiocy, and contemptuous of those who embodied both, like Jerry Falwell. But those who knew him unanimously cite both his wit and charm, and as a writer and a public intellectual he had few contemporary equals. I think that it's as a writer, especially of a vast volume of sparkling essays, that I would best like to remember him.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

About the First Church of Christ, Atheist

The title of this blog is deliberately provocative. It's meant to make you think about how it might be true yet self-contradictory on the surface. This blog is about God and belief, and about why we believe the things that we do. It is also about a spiritual journey. Mine, of course, but by reading and commenting you are taking part in it and perhaps, if I'm doing it well, I can help you take a step or two of your own.

It is also meant to be a place for respectful discourse on these things. There will be contentious issues discussed here: Christianity and atheism, as the title implies, but also evolution and science, abortion and crime, politics and the role of believers in the political process. I will say things that some readers may take exception to.

And that's okay. There will be arguments and disagreements, and some of them will be long-running. But it's all too easy for a discussion about strongly-held beliefs to degenerate into name-calling and name-calling and accusations of idiocy. That will not be tolerated here. I encourage readers to comment and put forth their thoughts and ideas, elaborately if necessary. But be polite.

I may as well stake out some positions to start with. I am not, by the strict definition of the term, an atheist, although I have sympathy for some atheist positions and am familiar with atheist thought and argument. Nor am I, strictly speaking, a Christian as some would define it, but I have a deep interest in the Bible and Christian history. I can't claim to have read the whole Bible, but I've read a fair bit of it. I was brought up by non-denominational, non-churchgoing believers, but spent my early years in Catholic grammar school. I can't say that I enjoyed that experience, but I can't say that it was spiritually stifling, either. Since then I have listened, talked and read a great deal about both religion and science.

I am trying to avoid oversimplifying in the hopes of elaborating at a later time, but I have at times called myself an "agnostic deist." I'll let you work out what that means for yourselves for the moment; a big part of what this blog is about is what it means to me. I do have a firm moral stance, although I won't promise that it lines up with anybody else's in particular.

I plan to post roughly weekly, and with my own content rather than news articles of interest; you may find some of the latter on my Goggle+ feed. Keep reading.