on chance

What are the odds that Earth could sustain life?

You must have at least heard this question asked, if not asked it yourself. "What are the odds...? What are the chances...?" It's one of those questions that creationists tend to ask, especially since it's a bit of a loaded question. It makes Earth, as we know it, sound so improbable that it could not have happened without a conscious effort. Well, since we're asking the question, we might as well answer it:

One. Or, as a ratio,1:1. As a percent, 100%. In a word, "Yes."

That is to say, Earth was destined to become what it is today, and life as we know it could only have occurred as we know it. Given that Earth contained all the preconditions for carbon-based life, it's silly to call Earth's biosphere anything less than probable. All it took was our ozone layer (which only requires oxygen in the atmosphere [check] and solar radiation [check]) to shield us, and the rest is practically a matter of time. All the chemical components and atmospheric conditions were present. There really is nothing that stood in Earth's way from creating life.

The above link summarizes the Miller-Urey Experiment, wherein abiogenesis (that is, life forming from non-life) was essentially proven. It's really not a miracle. It's basic chemical compounds from primordial Earth--water, methane, ammonia and hydrogen--an electrical charge, and time. As observed in the write-up:

At the end of one week ... as much as 10-15% of the carbon within the system was now in the form of organic compounds. Two percent of the carbon had formed amino acids, including 13 of the 22 that are used to make proteins in living cells...The molecules produced were simple organic molecules, far from a complete living biochemical system, but the experiment established that the hypothetical processes could produce some building blocks of life without requiring life to synthesize them first.

 So there you have it. Given our planet's proximity to the sun, its inherent elements and compounds, and enough time, it shouldn't come as a surprise that life sprouted. If the universe were a casino, Earth would be the table to bet on.

But maybe that, itself, is the question. Perhaps when people ask "What are the odds...?" they mean to say, "What are the odds that our planet, amidst countless others in the universe, is one with life?" This question seems like a better argument for creationism, as the odds seem outrageously low. After all, what ARE the odds that any random planet will be satisfactorily close to a star, contain the right combination of chemicals, and undergo the proper atmospheric changes to create life? Unfortunately, there's no objective and accurate equation for such odds, but we can safely say that the percentage of planets capable of creating and sustaining life is extremely low. By many accounts, it is a fraction of a fraction of a percent.


However, the question is illogical. We are not actually asking "What are the odds of life on any one planet?" because Earth is not any one planet. Earth is Earth. If we were not Earth, we would not be here to ask the question. The question only exists because we exist, and therefore what we are really asking is, "What are the odds that I exist?" Do you see the circular logic at work, here? It's difficult to explain just how silly this question is, but I'll try to sum it up in a couple of sentences:


We cannot objectively question the odds of our own existence, for we already exist and can only question in retrospect. For every person who questions the odds, consider the theoretically infinite number of creatures who do not exist and therefore do not question. The only reason we wonder about our odds of existing is because we do, in fact, exist.


And that brings us back to the original answer:


The odds of us existing as we are today are a certainty, just as they would be for any other species questioning its existence. And the odds of Mars having no life, along with innumerable other lifeless planets, is a certainty. There are many more planets which are lifeless, to be sure, but by that very definition, there is no consciousness on those planets to question in the first place.

So before you cite Earth's intricate and seemingly miraculous biosphere as proof of a god, consider this: if every other planet had equally impressive and complex life, our odds of life wouldn't have changed at all. We'd still be us, and we'd still have formed life the same way. The only reason people view Earth as a miracle is because we compare ourselves to planets that are incomparable. Earth's (thus far) unique biosphere isn't evidence for creationism any more than a uniquely shaped rock is evidence for a rock-maker. Every planet and rock in the universe is different in its own way - our way just happens to be lively.

on zealotry

Please consider the following theoretical scenario:

Your mother has been deceased for as long as you've been alive. For sentimental value, let's say she died during childbirth. Although you never met her, you feel very connected to your mother and you honor her in a very loving and respectful fashion. From what you know of her, it seems that she was the perfect person and someone who deserved nothing but the best; her death was an utmost tragedy.

Now, let's say you are at work one day. A co-worker, whose parents were not on friendly terms with yours, criticizes that your mother was not as perfect as everyone says she was. You defend your mother and end up debating her virtues with this co-worker. One of his parting remarks is that your mother was a liar and died as one.

What do you do? Do you report this abuse to your boss, or do you simply ignore this person? Do you physically assault him/her in outrage? Do you go home and talk this over with your father?  Do you complain to other co-workers? Or do you kill this person? According to a Pakistani court, execution may not be unreasonable.

My theoretical scenario is under a slightly different pretense than a situation in Pakistan, but the differences are indeed slight. In the village of Itan Wali, a woman is on trial for crudely saying that Muhammad was a liar. Apparently, this was enough to invoke the wrath of her co-workers, neighbors, and the law. She is now on trial for blasphemy and, if convicted, will be hanged.

The town cleric responded to her death sentence, saying,

 "Tears of joy poured from my eyes."

Let me contextualize that: this man is crying tears of joy over the thought of a woman being killed for insulting his religion. He is overjoyed at the thought of someone being murdered for insulting his belief system.

Of everything I could say in response to this, I just want to revisit my original example. In my scenario, we have someone badmouthing your mother. It's insulting, inconsiderate, and likely (according to other sources) untrue. Your response depends upon your own values, but to call for the murder of this person would not only be overreacting - it would be ludicrous. No matter how rude or libelous a person is to you, killing them in return is not justice; it is psychotic.

So, returning to the story's actual context, we have a town who is prepared to kill a woman for insulting not them, not their families, not even a human being, but an abstract idea that they subscribe to. Even from their point of view--even from the perspective of someone who wholeheartedly worships a deity--murder is not an acceptable answer to a rude, off-handed comment. And if your god is the sort of deity who prefers non-believers to be slaughtered, then this is not a deity to be worshiped.

Let's ponder on that for a moment because I think it's a classic paradox in the whole "benevolent God" thing:

• How can we claim that God (at least the Jehova/Allah god) is benevolent, forgiving, and loving, while assuming he wants murderous revenge on non-believers?
• How can we claim that a religion preaches tolerance, acceptance, and forgiveness, while seeking murderous revenge on those that speak against it?
• How can we claim spiritual and moral superiority over non-believers, while said non-believers resort to words and we resort to executions?

There really is no justifiable answer. There isn't. No matter what you believe, you are the vessel of your own morality, and killing a woman over an insult, regardless of what she said, is immoral. It's beyond immoral... it's a sin.

on emptiness

In my years as an undergraduate, I had a professor who I particularly admired. She was creative, jubilant, passionate, and fiercely intelligent. I took as many classes as I could with her, and each time was a tremendous learning experience. She was impressive on so many fronts, with one tiny exception that remains a blemish in my otherwise idyllic image of her. In describing her spiritual outlook, she said something akin to the following (I'm paraphrasing in lieu of an eidetic memory) :

I called myself an atheist for a while; I was quite vocal about it. But after a while I just found it too boring. To think that there's nothing out there, and this is it? I needed something more.

At the time, being a little more undecided in my religious affinities and having a sort of schoolboy crush, I thought this was very reasonable. In a world with so many uncertainties, why not side with the more interesting possibilities? Perhaps I too would pursue something less "boring." But that time never really came, as I mulled over the idea and found it gradually less appealing.

One of the main reasons I can't subscribe to my professor's reasoning is the inherent logical fallacy at work. Before I point out the flaw, let me just say that I hate to reject her statement based on logic, since it wasn't a logical argument in the first place; it was an offhand comment about her exploration of that which she found interesting. I even agree! Theology is incredibly interesting. I do want to refute the logic behind her statement, however, because I do see it used by many people as their reason for being religious.

The fallacy: An idea being interesting or favorable does not, in any way, lend credibility to its argument. This is effectively a version of Pascal's Wager, which claims one should believe in Christianity so that one can go to Heaven. Similarly, the idea that spirituality is more interesting and uplifting than atheism seems to lead a lot people to religion. That's a nice sentiment, but it doesn't make God any more believable.

What if I told you about a Utopian land here on Earth? Call it what you will, but it is equal to or greater than your understanding of Heaven. The land is rich with every food and crop known to man, and people are never hungry. Everyone is born a genius, and work is split evenly among all people. No one feels jealousy or resentment, and only kind words are ever spoken. People know only love and mistakes are unheard of. It is perfection for perfection's sake.

As wonderful as this land may sound, you could not believe such a place exists on Earth. In fact, the more wonderful it sounds, the more skeptical someone is likely to be. In realistic terms, something is not believable simply because it is pleasing. By these standards, why should a man believe in Heaven? Why should a woman believe that an omniscient being is watching over us? There are many reasons one can argue for spirituality, and I accept that one's interest in an idea can lead to a pursuit of it. However, I can't accept an idea's favorability as reason for its credibility.

I originally wanted to include "Nicolas Cage stops making terrible movies," but I ran out of room on the right.

But all this aside, I want to refute the very notion that atheism is boring. Anyone who claims that the lack of a sentient creator is dull, depressing, or a dead-end should look into just how marvelous a godless universe is. To think that all elements of our universe have become the way they are without a designer, that circumstance alone had set off a chain of events to create what we have now, is wildly fascinating. I'll need another blog post, on a day when I'm feeling decidedly more scientific, to elaborate on how a godless universe is truly awesome. For now, I'll just refer to an age-old argument that is usually cited as "proof" of a creator:

The watchmaker argument (or "argument by design") states that upon seeing a watch or other complicated human invention, one recognizes that the invention must have an inventor. It follows that the infinitely complicated universe must also have an inventor. Faulty logic aside, I would like to posit that this is a great argument for why an atheistic universe is so fascinating. When considering how complex and brilliant our universe is, it's far more interesting to believe there was no designer, no inventor. A watch without a maker is, as far as I'm concerned, very far from boring.

...out of the machine

Before I go off on any tangents, I should probably elaborate on my suitably pretentious blog title†. It's not exactly cryptic -- I assume many people are familiar with the term deus ex machina. However, my vague logic behind the title could use some explanation. Being a blog that is first and foremost concerned with atheism--a strange idea in itself, that one can be devoted to asserting the non-existence of something--I felt it was appropriate for my title to have the absence of God.


For those unaware, the phrase deus ex machina literally translates to "God from [or 'out of'] the machine." It was coined to describe the mechanism in theater that lowered a god-like figure onto the stage, who would subsequently resolve all problems for the story's protagonists. As a result, the phrase evolved into a general literary device wherein a story's conflict is resolved at the last minute and a little too conveniently. No matter how the phrase is used, though, its roots remain in its literal interpretation: all problems are fixed by a god.


What I particularly like about the phrase is its allegorical implications. One would think that a play should always be able to come upon a resolution naturally and seamlessly. However, plays are about people, and people (in the real world) do not always have convenient answers to their problems. Indeed, the world is full of questions, conflicts, and misfortune. A deus ex machina is not a departure from reality (however unrealistic it may seem), because it's an accurate reflection of human conflict's inability to solve itself. The use of a god in dramatic literature is a great way of showing just how incapable people can be in resolving their conflict; it shows that a supernatural power would be the only way to have a happy ending at times. God, despite being the answer, is not the point. The point is to illustrate people's dependency on an outside power/force.


Another interesting point is the notion of a "machine." While the alleged god did most definitely come down from a mechanical pulley in the phrase's origin, I'm much more partial to a societal machine. That is, the proverbial mechanism of creation and sustenance we give to our ideas. Richard Dawkins coined the term meme in reference to the acceptance of ideas through cultural reiteration. Say something enough times and with enough assertion, and eventually people will have no choice but to listen. In this way, God (along with all human concepts) is essentially born of a machine... a process of repetition and reaffirmation from the collective. Just like in theater, wherein a deity is lowered onto the stage out of necessity for the story's resolution, a deity is manufactured in our hearts out of perceived necessity to our own resolutions. I know I sound awfully condemning here, and I don't mean to be. If anything, I revel at how accurate the phrase is beyond the stage.


So if the phrase in its entirety is appealing, why take out the deus -- the god? I'm afraid my reasoning behind that is less than eloquent. Simply put, taking out the god seems fitting for an exploration of God's non-existence. Moreover, I wanted to emphasize the "machine" more than what comes out of it. After all, it's easier to examine something tangible, measurable, and real. Finally, and I admit this is a silly reason, the phrase in its entirety is overused and cliché. Every overzealous liberal arts major has used the phrase in a term paper, and I'm already bordering on pseudo-intellectual by using Latin in the first place. Therefore, Ex Machina it is. Besides, doesn't it just sound cool?




† A foreword on pretension: In trying to write cleverly on matters of importance, I'm nearly certain that I'll sound pretentious at points. I apologize if anything I write comes across as snobbery, elitism, or intellectual masturbation. I assure you that is not my intent, possibly excluding the latter. I do not claim to know more than I do, and I revel in my ignorance. However, I am qualified to post intellectual fodder and I encourage you to do the same via comments.