No such thing as bad publicity?

How Curiosity Overcomes the Yuck Factor: A Positive Take on Negative Reviews
Douglas Axe | @DougAxe

I’ve been arguing that intelligent design explains life better than Darwin’s theory for long enough to be familiar with reactions that amount to little more than disgust — the yuck response. Usually I take that response as a sign that I need to move on to more receptive listeners, but I was recently reminded that the yuck response doesn’t always end the discussion. A colleague of mine — a former Darwinist who now sees life as designed — told me how he came to change his view several years ago. It was curiosity that bumped him out of the Darwinian rut, by compelling him to give a few of the best books on intelligent design a serious read.Kriti Sharma’s yuck reaction to my book, Undeniable: How Biology Confirms our Intuition That Life Is Designed, in her recent  review suggests she might be stuck in that same rut. She read the book, but not very seriously.

Sharma, a PhD biology student at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, describes giving lectures to other students on the evolutionary divergence between clams and snails. According to the evolutionary story, something quite different from modern clams or snails had descendants that became modern clams and snails in all their great variety. Anyone with an appreciation of all the distinct biological marvels represented by that variety should be struck by the magnitude of this claim. Add just a dash of curiosity to that awe, and you start to wonder how a blind evolutionary process could actually pull it off. How can something utterly devoid of insight possibly appear so insightful?

Sharma’s vagueness on this point is the familiar sign that curiosity hasn’t yet kicked in. She says evolution gets lots of trials with lots of feedback, each small step depending on the prior step. She seems satisfied with that. The staggering variety of stunning living things that populate our planet is adequately explained by those rather unimpressive factors — time and natural selection — she thinks. In her case, my attempts to expose the inadequacy of those factors seem to have fallen on deaf ears.

Much of my book is devoted to developing an argument around everyday experience and common sense, a combination I refer to as common science. It seems to me that Darwin’s thinking is quite vulnerable to refutation by common science. After all, selection doesn’t really make anything. It merely chooses among things that have already been made. That’s what the word means. The only kind of selection that gives you clams or snails is the kind you do while ordering dinner at a French restaurant.

Sharma dismisses such thoughts as childish “pre-theoretical” thinking.

One of my book’s themes is that we adults shy away from common-science deductions like that for the wrong reasons. Fearing that smart people couldn’t possibly have overlooked such obvious facts for so long, we tend to assume they must know something the rest of us don’t. But in making that assumption, we overlook something equally obvious, which is that smart people take great pride in their smarts. Wanting to be revered for their intellects, they’re very reluctant to say anything that might cause their status to take a hit. Ironically, the end result of all this fretting about appearances is that the “smart” explanation of biological origins has the same amount of substance to it as the emperor’s new clothes — worn with just as much pride.

Another theme of my book is that because common science gives us the right conclusion about our origin, deeper digging consistently affirms that conclusion. No matter how deeply we dig, if we keep curiosity at the forefront we find our intuitive rejection of the inventive power of natural selection to be absolutely correct.

Half-a-minute’s worth of digging might convince you of this.

Consider, for example, Graham Bell, the James McGill Professor of Biology at McGill University and a recently elected Fellow of the Royal Society. He’s an accomplished evolutionary biologist, author of a book titled Selection: The Mechanism of Evolution, where he argues that “Living complexity cannot be explained except through selection, and does not require any other category of explanation whatsoever.” According to Bell, then, selection most certainly is evolution’s engine of invention.

Now consider Andreas Wagner of the Department of Evolutionary Biology and Environmental Studies at the University of Zurich, who is also an accomplished evolutionary biologist. His book,  Arrival of the Fittest: Solving Evolution’s Greatest Puzzle, confirms common science by declaring that “natural selection is not a creative force. It does not innovate, but merely selects what is already there.”

Notice that Wagner’s assessment, contrary to Bell’s, leaves a rather large and conspicuous hole right in the middle of evolutionary theory. “To appreciate the magnitude of the problem,” says Wagner, “consider that every one of the differences between humans and the first life forms on earth was once an innovation: an adaptive solution to some unique challenge faced by a living being.” According to Wagner, then, selection most certainly is not evolution’s engine of invention.

Don’t miss the significance of this. Two highly regarded experts at the very center of today’s evolutionary thinking have completely opposite opinions about how evolution is supposed to work! What this really means, of course, is that the community of evolutionary biologists has no clue how evolution would work! Again, add just a pinch of curiosity to that startling realization and you start to wonder whether evolution really can work.

That’s what drove me to test Darwin’s idea in the lab for the last twenty years. As I explain in Undeniable, his theory has failed this testing consistently and spectacularly.

Now, I’m very willing to hear from anyone who thinks otherwise, as long as they show genuine curiosity of the kind that rises above academic peer pressure by refusing to settle for stock explanations that are obviously inadequate. Kriti Sharma seems content to leave her worldview undisturbed for the moment, which is understandable.

That was my colleague before curiosity got the better of him.

Why enzymes are undeniably designed.

Don’t Be Intimidated by Keith Fox on Intelligent Design
Douglas Axe | @DougAxe


Darwin believed that once simple bacteria appeared on Earth (however that happened), natural selection took over from there — creating every living thing from that humble beginning. And this continues to be the official view of the science establishment to this day.

Being skeptical of that view, my colleagues and I have spent twenty-some years putting Darwin’s idea to one test after another in the lab. As described in a stack of peer-reviewed technical papers, it has failed every one of these tests. I’m convinced, however, that you don’t need a PhD to see why it had to fail. That’s why I based my recent book — Undeniable: Undeniable: How Biology Confirms Our Intuition That Life Is Designed — on commonsense reasoning instead of technical argument.

Biochemist Keith Fox at the University of Southampton didn’t like the book, so he wrote a short critique claiming I got it all wrong. The things I’ve studied for all these years are called enzymes — sophisticated catalysts that handle all the chemical processes inside cells. Based on my work and the work of many others, I claim that these remarkable little factories can’t have come about by any ordinary physical process. I say they’re molecular masterpieces — works of genius. Fox disagrees, and while he doesn’t seem to have done any work in the field, his critique of Undeniable includes his own rough-and-ready theory of enzyme origins.

As I recently recounted, Fox thinks working enzymes started out much smaller than they are today, growing to their present size through the refining work of natural selection. Years ago, I explained in technical detail why this can’t be true — why enzymes must be full-sized and exquisitely shaped to do their jobs. But, again, a major theme of my book is that you don’t have to take my word for this. You can see for yourself that life is designed all the way down to the molecular level.

Here’s one visual example to make the point.




That green thing is a large molecule called tRNA, and the little yellow things are amino acids. For life to work, these amino acids, which come in 20 different kinds, must be connected in special sequences to make chain-like molecules called proteins (enzymes being one class of proteins). If these long molecules were nothing but floppy chains, they would be useless. Instead, their special sequences cause them to fold up into distinct and highly useful shapes, each as well suited to its specific function as any human-made machine.

The crucial instructions for the sequences that cause these machine-like shapes to form are preserved in the form of genes, used in every living cell and carefully passed to successive generations. A set of tRNA molecules like that green one is crucial for reading these genes to make proteins. The tRNA molecules work like clever adapters: their underside recognizes (by perfect fit) a specific short piece of genetic sequence — a genetic word, if you will — while their top part holds the amino acid that, in the language of genes, is referred to by that word.

In order for this to work, something has to make sure each different green thing gets the right amino acid attached at the top — meaning the one corresponding to the genetic “word” recognized down below. As if that weren’t challenging enough, those little yellow amino acids are attached to the green things only with difficulty. They must be forced into position and then locked in place with a chemical bond.

Life’s ingenious solution to these compound challenges is a set of enzymes like the one shown here in blue.



Each of these enzymes recognizes its own type of tRNA molecule, checking the bottom part to make sure it will read the right genetic word and simultaneously recognizing the amino acid corresponding to this genetic word. In power-tool fashion, these enzymes “burn” ATP to forcibly attach the correct amino acid into position on the tRNA (in the above picture you can see the red ATP in place, ready for the correct amino acid to enter the opening and be forced into place).

Sophisticated power tools don’t appear out of thin air, though. So, wanting to think otherwise, Keith Fox imagined much simpler things that could come out of thin air, proposing that these can do crudely what today’s enzymes do so elegantly. Specifically, the little blue blob below is what Fox imagined.



Now, imagination can be useful in science, but only by connecting in a compelling way to reality. As anyone can plainly see, that isn’t the case here. In fact, the absence of evidence to back Fox’s claim up, while significant, isn’t nearly as significant as the fact that we can all see why his claim simply can’t work. Little blobs like that (nothing but two amino acids joined together) can’t possibly verify the bottom of the tRNA…much less do so while recognizing the corresponding amino acid…much less hold the needed ATP in position to power the attachment of that amino acid. And while the comical inadequacy of the size of that little blob is what jumps out at us, this isn’t just about size. Rather, it’s about the necessity of matching shape to function.

Other examples could be given by the thousands (literally) — each showing how woefully inadequate Fox’s little blobs are. But you get the point.

The only thing Keith Fox’s theory of enzyme origins has going for it is that it came from Keith Fox — a fully credentialed and highly competent biochemist at a major research university. In other words, his claim borrows any status it has from his professional standing. But when a scientist, however accomplished, stubbornly wants to see things one way, this borrowed status just isn’t enough.

Surprised? On the one hand, you shouldn’t be…but on the other, you’re in good company if you are. Many people are so persuaded by the stereotypical view of scientists that they can’t imagine how these supposedly uber-rational thinkers could allow their desires to interfere with their reasoning.


Rest assured that they can. Scientist are, after all, just as human as everyone else.