The Craig-Hitchens Debate

Here it is in its entirety. It's almost two years old at this point, though, so it's not really cutting edge.



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The Bias Sphere; or, Turning Gould into Irony

Thirty years ago Stephen Jay Gould wrote The Mismeasure of Man in which he castigated the early 19th century scientist Samuel George Morton. Morton's crime is that he measured skull capacity from different ethnic groups and managed to ensure that the caucasian skulls had the largest capacity, and thus that white people were smarter than other ethnic groups. Gould used this to show that even the most basic elements of science, such as volume measurements, were not free from potential bias.

Now some 21st century scientists got together and did something radical: they remeasured the skulls that Morton used. It turns out his measurements were accurate, and Gould's were not. In fact, nearly every specific claim Gould makes about Morton is incorrect. The few incorrect measurements on Morton's part tended to go the other way, imputing greater volume to African skulls. Their research was published in an open-access journal and you can read it in its entirety here. If you want something a bit more colorful, I strongly suggest the righteous indignation of John Hawks. There you will find such tidbits as "Gould made up the whole thing. It was an utter fabulation. It is disgraceful that later authors have cited this idea as fact." "Gould fudged his own numbers!"

Anyway, you can see why I find this outrageous. Gould used the well-documented work of a long-dead man to make an argument that unconscious bias is widespread in science. He posed as a concerned critic, but thereby cast doubt on the validity of the scientific enterprise. He picked volume measurement and tabulation of averages as his target, making it seem as if the simplest and most objective observations -- the Junior High-level science methods -- were themselves subject to all-encompassing cultural biases. His paper and book are very widely read and cited by people who will never examine the primary evidence. ...
This stuff really ticks me off. I don't think that Gould's errors can be written off as "unconscious bias". Reading back over his 1978 article, I cannot believe that Science published it.

One thing that irritates me (that Hawks doesn't mention) is the imputation of racism to Morton. An article in the New York Times about the new measurements counters this.

Dr. Gould, who died in 2002, based his attack on the premise that Morton believed that brain size was correlated with intelligence. But there is no evidence that Morton believed this or was trying to prove it, said Jason E. Lewis, the leader of the Pennsylvania team. Rather, Morton was measuring his skulls to study human variation, as part of his inquiry into whether God had created the human races separately (a lively issue before Darwin decreed that everyone belonged to the same species).

Via Ann Althouse. Now I think Gould's overriding point -- that scientists are just as prone to bias as us lesser mortals, and that this can find ways into their experiments -- is valid. The fact that Gould illustrated this in a way he did not intend just makes the point much more humorous; in much the same way as when Carl Sagan uncritically repeated an urban legend in order to show how people are gullible. I would argue that Gould's implication that bias is widespread in science is exaggerated. Part of science's glory, after all, is its self-correcting nature. But that doesn't make it infallible.

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Deliver us from Vomit

On this blog we tend to wax lyrical about the more prevalent myths concerning the Middle Ages; the lack of technological development, the flat earth, the ‘age before reason’ etc etc.. One of the less well known ones is that our Medieval forebears lacked a sense of humour, or as the historian Michael W George puts it in his debunking essay in ‘Misconceptions about the Middle Ages’, that the Medieval period was ‘an austere age without laughter’. Of course we moderns have no right to talk given some of the supposedly funny rubbish I have sat through on U.S and U.K TV, atrocities such as ‘Two Pints of Lager and a packet of crisps’, ‘Traffic Light ‘ and ‘Glee’ (a show the female members of my household appear to love but which forces me to bolt from the couch and leave the room in digust whenever it appears on the box).

Michael George points out that in the Middle Ages, no subject appears to have been immune from humour. Most of the cycle plays from England for example have episodes dealing with Joseph’s reaction to Mary’s pregnancy and show him convinced he has been a cuckold and demanding to know the name of the baby’s father. In these he is presented as an old man who – it is inferred – is impotent since he knows he is physically incapable of impregnating his wife. Another prominent festival, the ‘Feast of Fools’ parodied religious ceremonies with, for example, the censing performed with sausages.

In a separate essay ‘Medieval Monks, funnier than you thought’, Liam Ethan Felsen shows that humour existed amongst the clergy – many of whom argued against laughter. He draws attention to the ‘drinkers masses’, which are riotous parodies that turn the liturgies into tavern centred ceremonies administered by Bacchus the God of Wine. The Confitemini Dolio reads for example:

Pater Bacche qui es in schyphis, sanctifi cetur bonum vinum. Adveniat damnum tuum. Fiat tempestas tua sicut in schypho sic etiam in taberna.Potum nostrum da hobis hodie. Et dimitte nobis pocula nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus compotatoribus nostris. Et sic nos inducas inebrietatem, sed ne libera nos a vino.

(Father Bacchus who art in cups, hallowed be good wine. Thy ruination come. Thy turmoil be done in the cup as it is in the tavern. Give us this day our daily drink. And send forth our cups to us as we send forth to our fellow drinkers. And lead us not into drunkenness, but do not deliver us from wine.)

Another Mass – the Missa potatorum repeats this liturgy but replaces ‘do not deliver us from wine’ with ‘but deliver us from vomit’. Another example, Quondam fuit factus, describes how one solitary, sober monk witnesses his colleagues getting steadily more plastered.

Abbas vomit et Prioris;

Vomis cadit super fl oris;

Ego pauper steti foris,

Et non sum laetitia.

The abbot vomited and the prior;

The vomit fell on the floor

I, a poor man, stood outside,

and I was not happy.

…the next morning

Abbas mingit suum stratum,

Prior merdans ad cellatum

Cocus vomit in ollatum

De turpis material.

The abbot wets his bed,

The prior craps his cell

The cook vomits in the pot

A nasty substance

In a similar vein – the 'Arch poet’s confession' reads Meum est propositum in taberna mori (It is my intention to die in the tavern).

Such examples may not represent the pinnacle of humour but they do go some way to showing the Middle Ages were perhaps not as miserable as some historians have made out.

For more examples of earthy Medieval humour see 'The Civilized Man' and 'The Song of Roland'.

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Very interesting

Here's an audio recording of Hilary Putnam and Alvin Plantinga, two of the greatest living philosophers, discussing the existence of God. I didn't realize that Putnam is Jewish. It's from ten years ago, but it was just put on YouTube a couple of days ago.



(cross-posted at Agent Intellect)

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The Song of Roland

It appears 'Blogger' crashed yesterday and deleted my latest post. I have therefore delved into my internet history and resurrected it below......

While trawling through various publications I came across a curious work entitled 'On farting - language and laughter in the Middle Ages' by Valerie Allen. This book devotes a section to one Berthold le Fartere (Roland the Farter) who held Hemingstone manor in Suffolk and 30 acres of land in return for his services as a jester for king Henry II. The 'Liber feodorum' or 'Book of fees' records that:

Seriantia que quondam fuit Rollandi le Pettour in Hemingeston in comitatu Suff ’, pro qua debuit facere die natali Domini singulis annis coram domino rege unum saltum et siffletum et unum bumbulum, que alienata fuit per particulas subscriptas.

'The serjeanty, which formerly was held by Roland the Farter in Hemingston in the county of Suffolk, for which he was obliged to perform every year on the birthday of our Lord before his master the king, one jump, and a whistle, and one fart, was alienated in accordance with these specific requirements.'

For me this historical curiosity pretty much speaks for itself; however Valerie Allen can't resist a bit of waffely post-modern analysis. She writes:

How then does the humble fart illuminate identity and social relation? If Roland’s caper seems only to vindicate the common myth that medievals farted without regulation, we should keep in mind that the singularity of his tenure attests to an awareness of the unseemliness of farting in public, not to mention in front of your sovereign. Medieval farts bear the same burden of anxiety, low humor, and indifferent necessity that they do today, yet they also open up the gap of cultural consciousness that yawns across seven centuries and more.

Er...right. Perhaps this is just overanalysing the issue and the story of Roland the Farter merely shows that toilet humor is one of the great continuities of human history. Take an early modern tract by the fictional Jack of Dover who, embarking on a “Privy Search for the veriest foole in England,” tells of a humorous knight in Cornwall who called together a great assembly of knights, squires, and gentlemen to hear his public speech. However:

He in a foolish manner (not without laughter) began to use a thousand jestures, turning his eyes this way, then that way, seeming alwayes as though he would have presently begun to speake: and at last, fetching a deepe sigh, with a grunt like hogge, he let a beastly loude fart, and tould them that the occasion of this calling of them together was to no other ende, but that so noble a fart might be honoured with so worthy a company as there was.

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God and Gaia in Academia

This is an interesting essay at the Chronicle of Higher Education. Apparently it's fairly common in academic circles to believe that humanity was matriarchal in prehistoric times, complete with goddess worship. Feminist Cynthia Eller countered this trend in her book The Myth of Matriarchal Prehistory: Why An Invented Past Will Not Give Women a Future. It reminds me of the claims that witches were proto-feminist midwives and healers who were persecuted by the patriarchy.

By itself, that's pretty interesting and makes the essay well worth reading. But then comes this quote:

Why bring this up now? Because higher education’s relaxed attitude about appointing faculty members who not only believe but who actually teach this moonshine demonstrates the hypocrisy of those who say that faculty members are acting out of the need to protect the university from anti-scientific nonsense when they discriminate against conservative Christian candidates for academic appointment. The possibility that a candidate for a position in biology, anthropology, or, say, English literature might secretly harbor the idea that God created the universe or that the Bible is true, is a danger not to be brooked. But apparently, the possibility that a candidate believes that human society was “matriarchal” until about 5,000 years ago is perfectly within the range of respectable opinion appropriate for campus life.

And then it gets really interesting.

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Quote of the Day

It is difficult to undo our own damage and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it. We are lighting matches in vain under every green tree. Did the wind used to cry and the hills shout forth praise? Now speech has perished from among the lifeless things of the earth, and living things say very little to very few... And yet it could be that wherever there is motion there is noise, as when a whale breaches and smacks the water, and wherever there is stillness there is the small, still voice, God's speaking from the whirlwind, nature's old song and dance, the show we drove from town... What have we been doing all these centuries but trying to call God back to the mountain, or, failing that, raise a peep out of anything that isn't us? What is the difference between a cathedral and a physics lab? Are they not both saying: Hello?

Annie Dillard
Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters

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And the Templeton Prize goes to....

.....Sir Martin Rees, astrophysicist and former head of the British Royal Society. This follows a Templeton tradition of honoring people like Freeman Dyson and Paul Davies whose work in Cosmology and Astrophysics touches on the big questions but who don't have much in the way of religious beliefs.

An interview with the winner is here (in which he is pretty guarded) and you can read his acceptance speech here.

The next thing to look forward to is the pissed off reaction from the nu atheist blog-o-sphere. Nothing has showed up as yet but while you are waiting you can - thanks to the wonders of flash - watch the new president of the British Humanist association pull off a selection of disco moves to Scandinavian electro-pop

EDIT - On cue here's a bit of backlash from P Z 'Pharingula' Meyers who describes Rees as mediocre and sticks him in the 'kooks' category. I guess being the author of over 500 research papers isn't enough these days.

More of the usual suspects - Jerry Coyne in the Guardian and on his blog who really reserves his venom for Templeton and is fairly respectful of Rees (The Guardian tried to stir things up by renaming his article 'Prize mug Martin Rees and the Templeton travesty'). Harry Kroto has been quoted as saying 'Shocking. Bad for science. Bad for the Royal Society. Bad for the UK and very bad for Martin'.

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What Happened When? Ancient Near East Chronology

I have always been interested in chronology, perhaps because it promises to apply some numerical rigour to ancient history. Sadly, things are rarely that simple. I thoroughly enjoyed Peter Jones' Centuries of Darkness, but ultimately found its proposal of a radical reform of ancient chronology to be unconvincing. But from time to time, I like to see how the chronological debates in ancient near eastern history (“ANE”) have progressed. The answer is usually, not by very much.

The problem with chronology is the need to pin an absolute date to relative dates. For example, if we have a list of kings of Assyria and how long they all reigned, we have a relative chronology for the Assyrians. If we also have references to the Assyrians sacking an Israelite city in the biblical records, we can pin the Assyrian chronology to the Hebrew one. And if an Egyptian pharaoh marched around Judea and this is recorded both in Egypt and the Bible, then we can attach the chronology of Egypt to our scheme as well. But we also need an absolute date so we can say exactly when a specified event happened. We can then extrapolate all our relative dates from this single absolute date to get an absolute chronology.

And herein lies the problem. Carbon 14 dates are nothing like accurate enough to provide absolute dates. The best that we can hope for is plus or minus thirty years, but there are serious doubts that the technique provides even this level of accuracy. Dendrochronology, dating from tree rings, can give you an absolute date for the year in which a tree was felled, but you cannot easily tie this to a historical event.

In fact, there is only one absolute date that everyone agrees with before the classical period. This is a total eclipse of the sun that took place on 14 June 763BC. NASA helpfully provides a map showing the path of the eclipse moving right across the Middle East (as well as a catalogue of all eclipses). Assyrian records note this eclipse in the 9th year of the reign of King Ashur-dan III. This ties all the ANE chronologies together, at least for the first half of the first millennium BC.

For chronology before 1000BC, things get complicated. Absolute dates have to be derived from observations about the rise of the star Sirius (Sothic dating used in Egypt) or the visibility of Venus (used in Babylon). But neither of these provides a single accurate date. For instance, the observations of Venus that tie to the reign of Hammurabi of Babylon occur every 60 years or so, which means that high, middle and low chronologies (with about 120 years between them) can all be argued for.

These problems could largely be solved if it was possible to date the Thera volcanic eruption that devastated large parts of the Mediterranean basin. Traditionally, this was believed to have happened shortly after 1500BC, but carbon dating and dendrochronology suggested a date of 1627BC. Evidence for the ash and pumice that the volcano ejected is laminated all over Asia Minor but, remarkably, the eruption is not recorded in any surviving records. Worse, it doesn’t even show up in the Greenland ice cores, where it should be very obvious. A likely candidate in 1642BC turns out to have been an eruption in Alaska. Quite why traces of the 60 cubic kilometres of rock ejected from Santorini do not stick out like a sore thumb or feature in any Egyptian records is odd to say the least.

So it seems by dreams of mathematical precision in the field of ancient chronology have been dashed. This probably won’t change until someone figures out how to precisely date the Thera eruption or new eclipse records turn up.

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Cool

Instapundit just received his copy of The Genesis of Science. You can't buy that kind of publicity. You're finally famous James!

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