Gonzalez and Richards Chapter Thirteen

Assumptions and implications are not the same thing.

I went in to Jiffy-Lube on Saturday (9/17/05) and found this science-fascist periodical – it was a lot of fun to read.  There was a news blurb on the Montana T. Regina – and they discovered that she was pregnant.  The collateral damage was that they had no scientific paradigm within which to put the femur soft-tissue problem.  Fun stuff! 

I consider his The Intellectual Origins of the European Reformation to be the single most important thing I’ve ever read in that period of history.  What I did not know is that before donning the habit of the Anglican Cleric, he was a card carrying Molecular Biologist.  Guys like him and Michael Denton (microbiologist) really make my day.  My opinion on the subject?  If evolution ever happened, God had to move it along. . . .  The new mythology?  Mutation and Evolution are the same thing.  Will brainwashing never cease?!   And so who was the sciobabble demigod of choice?  Dawkins.  It seems that he has become the new poster-child for the bluff and bluster wing of scientism.  One of my colleagues, a far more than brilliant thinker in his own right, said that he watched an interview with Dawkins and could only stomach about five minutes of it due to Dawkins’ unmitigated arrogance.  As is customary with Dawkins’ kind of insentience: he solves no problems, answers no questions, merely parrots the received mythology and communicates in epithets rather than propositions. 

Chapter Thirteen of The Privileged Planet is entitled, “The Anthropic Disclaimer.”  The authors start with the mother of all quotes:

            [T]he next battle of the Copernican revolution is thrust upon us.  Just as our planet has

            no special status within our Solar System, and our Solar System has no special location

            within the universe, our universe has no special status within the vast cosmic mélange of

            universes that comprise our multiverse (Adams and Laughlin, quoted G & R p. 259,

            italics, G & R). 

I will get back to this quote in a bit; but for now, we have already said that multiple universe theories are problematic: many are derived by mathematical models; some are infinitesimally small; no information is received from them because they are in other universes and information is not shared between them; hence the theories – even should they later prove to be correct! – are non-falsifiable.  How convenient!  So, what “science” does if it cannot prove its contentions is that it hides behind a wall of the unfalsifiably theoretical.  A very safe place, indeed! 

A variation of the Anthropic principle (that the universe looks the way it does because we are here to look at it) was brought in to shore up a mutated and badly ailing Copernican Principle.  Again, it backfires as the authors show.  “This response is a result of two of the most significant scientific advances of the twentieth century (both made possible by the exceptional measurability of the cosmos): the dual discoveries that the universe is both fine-tuned for life and finite in age” (p. 259). 

In the older days, there was a consensus of opinion among the scholarly elite that the universe was both infinite and eternal.  This proved to be an “easy way to avoid questions about the origin of matter, space, time, and natural laws” (p. 260).  This was a position held by Newton to explain why everything didn’t collapse back in upon itself.  He viewed the universe as “the medium through which God” (p. 260) expressed Himself and so it needed to be infinite to be adequate for this purpose.  Later scientists did not share Newton’s theistic worldview and so to Prediction number Seven as expanded to the universe as a whole (One through Six are in the previous chapter): 

7.         The universe is infinite in space and matter and eternal in time (p. 260). 

This principle reigned until it was discovered that there was a relationship between redshifting and the distances of Galaxies.  This proved that things were flying apart rather than static.  This led to Hubble’s Big Bang Cosmology.  This implied simply that the universe of matter and time itself had a beginning. 

            There could be no greater contrast between assumption and observation.  The

            difference between a temporally finite universe implied by Big Bang cosmology, and the

            eternal universe assumed by Aristotelian cosmology and two centuries of modern

            science, trivializes all other shortcomings of the Copernican Principle.  This is because . .

            . it’s difficult to resist the conclusion that anything that begins to exist must have

            some “outside” cause to bring it into existence (p. 260, emphasis mine). 

Of course, advocates of the older position didn’t expect or particularly like the ramifications of this; but, they have learned to work around it, as we shall see.  In the mean time, Hoyle developed the Steady State model to attempt to preserve a universe without beginning.  “According to the theory, the universe was expanding, but new matter was continually coming into existence” (p. 260).  There were all kind of problems with this – not the least of which has to do with that old saw: “Matter can be neither created nor destroyed; it only changes form.”  Hauntingly attractive as the theory was, it was overruled by the evidence of the cosmic background radiation and the nucleosynthesis of light elements.  Because secularists needed infinity and eternity, this roadblock led to an oscillating universe with a never ending cycle of bangs and collapses.  The problem with this is that entropy suggests that each cycle would have less and less energy.  And because the energy in the universe is a measurable thing, the amount of energy would have dissipated long before now.  Infinity and eternity just don’t work very well in material things, it seems.  And . . . “Further, recent measurements suggest that the universe has only a fraction . . . of the mass required to create a gravitational contraction in the first place (Meyer, quoted p. 261).  A further problem is what some call a “runaway universe.”  That is, things may never contract, all things being equal.  The expansion seems to be accelerating.  “If this view of an accelerating expansion prevails, it will render the idea of a cosmic recollapse unthinkable, thus leaving the notion of a beginning intact” (p. 261). 

So if we cannot pull off the eternal and infinite with observations in the universe, where can we go?  The next heading is “The Copernican Principle in the Physics Lab” (p. 161.  From that we get one final prediction:

8.         The laws of physics are not specially arranged for the existence of complex or

            intelligent life (p. 261).   

However as we have already seen from Chapter Ten, “. . . if the numerous physical laws, constants, and derived parameters of our universe did not take on the very precise values they have, nothing even roughly resembling our habitable universe would have existed” (p. 262).  The authors illustrate this with the “wall figure.”  If we have a huge wall with dots representing possible universes, black ones being chaotic, red ones being orderly and the green one representing the only one – as far as we know! – wherein complex and technological beings such as ourselves might exist, we find that the probabilities are astronomical against the existence of such a green dot. 

            . . . saying that our universe’s laws, constants, and parameters take very narrow values

            does not mean that no other universe of any sort could be habitable by any sort of

            organism.  What it means is that if we were to fiddle with the values that actually hold in

            our universe – if, for instance, we were to adjust the value of gravity just slightly in either

            direction – the universe becomes uninhabitable for any sort of complex organisms (p.

            262).

This existence of the highly improbable requires some sort of explanation: you’ve got luck and you’ve got design.  “. . . a surprising number of physicists and astronomers have concluded from this evidence that the universe is in fact designed” (p. 263).  Countering his own previously held opinion Physicist Paul Davies . . . says, “The impression of design if overwhelming.”  Hoyle says, “A commonsense interpretation of the facts suggests that a superintellect has monkeyed with physics, as well as chemistry and biology, and that there are no blind forces worth speaking about in nature.”  And that from a former adherent of the Steady State model of the universe and an avowed atheist!  (Both quotes are from p. 263).   

Stephen Hawking (Brief History of Time) thinks that the problem will be alleviated by collapsing the fundamental forces and everything that goes along with them into a single theory of everything.  So, if they ever find the “theory of everything” or the “quantum theory of gravity,” as it is sometimes called, then all the problems will be solved . . . naturally.  Unfortunately, this may entail nothing other than a level confusion.  As the authors so adeptly illustrate, it would be like a table full of billiard balls and one shot sinks them all.  Instead of multiple variables, there would only be one: exactly where you strike the cue ball! 

The probability thing is regrettably problematic: because there are an infinite number of possible universes, you cannot get a real proportion out of the problem! 

            But even without the comforting precision that an actual probability might provide,

            everyone recognizes that the dizzying number of so-called coincidences is fishy and

            needs explaining, or at least explaining away [!] Clearly, the many scientists who will go

            to unsurpassed speculative lengths to salvage the Copernican Principle recognize this

            need for an explanation (p. 264). 

Back to Q and the universe creating machine (From Chapter Ten): 

            . . . the fact that there is only one combination, designating one unified force, means that

            the various forces aren’t really independent.  And the fact that the possibilities for it are

            potentially infinite will prevent you from running a probability calculation on the total. 

            You could only consider the (many) numbers near the original combination that have

            been tried so far, and run a probability on those.   Would this prevent you from

            concluding that the original Grand Combination had been intentionally set?  Surely not

            (p. 265). 

And so, what will bail us out of metaphysical jail this time?  This section is entitled, “The Anthropic Principle and the Many-Worlds Hypotheses to the Rescue.”  It should be concluded that the infinitesimally small probability that any universe but our own exists, or could exist, is indicative of a summary defeat for the Copernican Principle in its current incarnation.  “But the metaphysically ambitious Copernican Principle, once degenerated into dogma, is resilient and highly adaptable” (p. 265).  And so it assimilates variations of the Anthropic Principle. “The Weak Anthropic Principle (WAP) states that we can expect to observe conditions necessary for our existences as observers” (p. 266).  Be that as it may, we are told:

            In a sense, the WAP is a check on an overly zealous and unsophisticated application of

            the Copernican Principle, since it restricts the possible laws, constants, and parameters to

            that range compatible with the existence of complex, carbon-based observers.  In that

            sense, it reminds us that we shouldn’t expect to see those laws, constants, and parameters

            having just any random value (p. 266). 

So, cutting to the chase, it explains why we are not in deep space in the past or future (so far as the composition and age of the universe are concerned) and “The Copernican Principle, then, explains all those ways in which our setting is commonplace; the Anthropic Principle accounts for the exceptions” (p. 266, italics theirs).  I should think that this is at once mundane and astounding: it explains why we can exist as we have been as well as the extraordinary nature of our being here right now.  And so, the Anthropic Principle is what keeps the Copernican Principle from dying the death of a thousand qualifications.  And so, without a Designer, it does little to salvage the Copernican Principle. 

The Strong Anthropic Principle runs something like this: “We can expect to find ourselves in a universe compatible with our existence” (p. 266).  I guess that makes sense although it might, without theory, math and observations to back it up, seem a bit tautological.  And so to metaphysics:

            . . . some think the Anthropic Principle in its universal application is a sufficient

            explanation for such fine-tuning.  But by itself the Anthropic Principle is not an

            explanation.  It simply states a necessary condition for our observing the universe.  It’s

            no explanation for why that universe exists, or is fine-tuned.  What is surprising is not

            that we observe a habitable universe, but that a habitable universe is, so far as we know,

            the only one that exists (p. 266, italics theirs).

The authors follow with two sufficient/necessary illustrations: the conclusion that a woman was killed by a light saber does nothing to the fact that the weapon is far beyond the technological capabilities currently available.  The conclusion that fifty sharpshooters missed a three meter shot and left holes outlining the body of the man to be executed, evokes more questions than answers.  Orders?  Collusion?  “Shrugging one’s shoulders and concluding that it’s a chance occurrence is just dense” (p. 267), which is about where the authors come down on those that say we are the product of some happy accident . . . never mind the astronomical number of coincidences required to make the “happy accident” the reality in which we find ourselves. 

And so, via what is called the “Everett Interpretation of quantum physics,” we need to have multiple universes.  However we get there, the collapse of wave function at the quantum level or the aftermath of initial exponential expansion, the theory falls flat because: “. . . both theories presuppose the very fine-tuned laws that need explaining” (p. 268).  Here is the scenario . . . with a bit of sarcasm:

            What is needed . . . is . . . a more or less exhaustive (that is, infinite), random distribution

            of different laws in separate, causally disconnected “universes.”  In such a scenario,

            innumerable universes (a “multiverse,” or “World Ensemble”) exist.  The only ones

            observed will be those capable of having observers.  In just those universes, observes will

            look around, and the more benighted ones will marvel that their universe is so well suited

            for them.  In this way, and only in this way, does the Anthropic Principle have any hope

            of saving the Copernican Principle from a stinging defeat (p. 268). 

The problem is in the words “causally disconnected.”  Because there is no relationship between the various parties of the multiverse, there can be no observation of them – they leave no trace.  The whole theory is non-falsifiable.  It can be proven neither that it is true nor that it is false. 

The authors then discount the dandelion in the cracked parking lot theory where “The dandelion might look around and find it to be a remarkable coincidence that it was planted in the very narrow area that allows it to grow and prosper.  What are the chances?” (p. 268).  Because of the dynamics of dandelion reproduction, wind and such – one need only consider my neighbors’ antipathy toward me during dandelion season, when my lower 40 (hundredths of an acre) is a-riot with yellow flowers – one can readily see that the chances are great that something or other will get itself planted in that crack in the pavement.  The differences are real:

First, it’s not at all obvious that an actual infinite set of anything, including universes, is

even possible.  And second, we know that there are gobs of dandelion seeds floating

around in the wind every spring, but we have no independent evidence to think other

universes exist, except that fine-tuning contradicts the Copernican Principle [in its current

incarnation] and lots of people don’t like what that might suggest (p. 268). 

The authors then again quote and engage Adams and Laughlin on the multiverse wherein they presuppose an infinite number of universes and laws governing them.  The concept is firmly “in place,” but it is indefensible.  “With the concept of the multiverse in place, the next battle of the Copernican revolution is thrust upon us.  Just as our planet has no special status within our Solar System, and our Solar System has no special location within the universe, our universe has no special status within the vast cosmic mélange of universes that comprise our multiverse” (quoted pp. 269-70, italics original). 

The authors then perform a surgical strike on this silliness:

            Notice that they don’t say that the next task of the Copernican Revolution is to find

            evidence for this so-called multiverse.  They say “battle,” which is more appropriate for

            an ideological crusade than a scientific hypothesis.  We have come full circle to the

            infinite chaos with its chance pockets of order posited by certain pre-Socratic

            philosophers.  This multiverse argument, infinitely more fanciful than most fanciful

            science-fiction stories, simply presupposes the Copernican Principle, along with the

            grand mythology that has built up around the Copernican Revolution.  But why do that? 

            Not only do we have good reason to doubt the Copernican Principle, but using it to

            summon other universes into existence is clearly bad faith, since we would never accept

            such reasoning in any other area (p. 270, italics theirs, emphasis mine). 

Isn’t it interesting that only in science and theology we do accept such reasoning?  In theology, some claims that are made by various religionists fall to the fallacy of non-falsification – and sometimes they call that “faith.”  Jesus passes through walls and the Empiricist community calls it myth; but they paint themselves into a Positivist corner using the theoretician’s brush and then exit through the wall into other universes wherein such like things might be and they call it science.  Sometimes, neither seems to have much correspondence with the laws of nature – at least we admit it. . . . 

Any event could always be chalked up to chance.  In fact, if you design the definitions right:

. . . no amount of evidence for apparent design could ever count as evidence of actual

design.  But if science is a search for the best explanation, based on the actual evidence

from the physical world, rather than merely a search for the best naturalistic or

impersonal explanations of the physical world, how responsible is it to adopt a principle

that makes one incapable of seeing an entire class of evidence?” (p. 270, emphasis

theirs). 

There seems to be a single problem with all the variations of the multiverse argument: “If the alternative universes are causally disconnected from our own, then merely postulating them isn’t a causal explanation, and doesn’t even compete with, say, intelligent design, since an intelligent designer would be offered as a causal explanation for fine-tuning this universe (or a habitable universe like this universe).  One still needs a causal explanation for the whole ensemble” (p. 270). 

Back to definitions: if you merely say that “the entire multiverse has existed necessarily and eternally, without a cause” (p. 271), you will stop the regress inherent in the argument – basically chasing the Copernican Principle from pillar to post and from planet to solar system to galaxy and from universe to universe.  However, you will be intellectually dishonest. 

            The fact that those committed to that principle will continue to look for theoretical

            justifications for a multiverse doesn’t obligate those who aren’t so committed.  And

            given the persistent failure of the Copernican Principle’s testable predictions, we

            may be wise not to place much confidence in its most speculative consequence [the

            multiverse] (p. 271, emphasis mine). 

The modern mutation of the Copernican Principle fails in eight of its major predictions (observed over the last two chapters).  The list is not exhaustive and would require volumes to fill; however, these are indicative of the epistemological abyss into which the whole theory falls. 

Before the authors collapse to doxology (specifically Psalm 8), I’d like to quote two paragraphs in toto.  This is the capstone of their argument, yes; but for those of you who have not read the previous dozen offerings, the second paragraph will provide the list of things that our universe has to be, to be at once habitable and observable.  But first there are two implications of the Copernican Principle’s failure:

            When we can test the Copernican Principle against the evidence, it tends to fail.  And

when it does not fail, it’s often because it retreats to a position that makes it virtually

unfalsifiable.  Although we should expect speculative rearguard defenses to continue, the

actual evidence still points in a problematic direction for the Copernican Principle:

toward a single, expanding, fine-tuned universe with a finite past, which has changed

profoundly over time.  We not only occupy an exceptional location within that universe,

we also occupy a special moment in cosmic history.  While we and our environs are not

literally the physical center of the universe, we are special in other, much more

significant ways.  In a sense, we are nestled snugly in the “center” of the universe not in

a trivial spatial sense but with respect to habitability and measurability.  This fact stands

in stark contrast to expectations nurtured by the Copernican Principle (p. 271). 

And now the list:

            . . . With respect to habitability, our existence depends on such local variables as a large

            stabilizing moon, plate tectonics, intricate biological and nonbiological feedback,

            greenhouse effects, a carefully placed circular orbit around the right kind of star, early

            volatile elements-providing asteroids and comets, and outlying giant planets to protect

            us from frequent ongoing bombardment by comets.  It depends on a Solar System placed

            carefully in the Galactic Habitable Zone in a large spiral galaxy formed at the right time. 

            It presupposes the earlier explosions of supernovae to provide us with the iron that

            courses through our veins and the carbon that is the foundation of life.  It also depends on

            a present rarity of such nearby supernovae.  Finally, it depends on a exquisitely fine-

            tuned set of physical laws, parameters, and initial conditions (pp. 271-2). 

Because we live in a universe that has mostly inhospitable places (too much space junk or too much radiation or too few heavier elements to make up our carcasses), we should not be too surprised to find ourselves alone in the universe.  This could be merely the winning of a cosmic lottery; or it could be because we were placed here by someone or something larger and more powerful than ourselves.  However, the Weak Anthropic Principle captures the essence better:

            If we’re living in and observing a just barely habitable universe, we shouldn’t be

            surprised that we will only find ourselves on a habitable planet in a narrow, habitable

            orbital zone around an unusually habitable star in just the right place in a just barely

            habitable galaxy at just the right time in a just barely habitable universe just the right age

            to produce terrestrial planets from an initially dense primordial state (p. 272). 

Meanwhile back at measurability: it is as though our very existence here – not to mention our senses – were designed for us to look away and observe the universe and our unique station in it.  Without what we have and the real Copernican Revolution “There would be far less to discover and inspire us, to draw us out of ourselves, to cause us to appreciate that our existence balances on a razor’s edge” (p. 273). 

Because of universal expansion in contrast to local gravity, we can make inferences about the nature of the universe.  One of those inferences is that the universe had a beginning.  Had we been any other place at any other time, the universe would have looked radically different.  The statistical probability shrinks to the infinitesimal with each new discovery.  There are only certain stars, only certain solar systems, only certain galactic masses and ages of these places that are possible homes. 

We are tiny in comparison with the universe, yes; but, this is an ancient feeling.  Size has exactly nothing to do with significance: which would you rather have a one ounce diamond or fifty bags of peat moss?  And with that tension, the authors quote Psalm 8:

            When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,

            the moon and the stars which you have set in place,

            what is man that you are mindful of him,

            the son of man that you care for him? (Psalm 8:3-4 NIV) 

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