Walt Disney and the future that was.

Fifty Years Later, Recalling Walt Disney and Scientism

John G. West 

Editor's note: December 15 marks the 50th anniversary of the death of filmmaker Walt Disney. Discovery Institute Senior Fellow John West is author of the new book  Walt Disney and Live-Action, which explores the meaning and making of Walt Disney's live-action features. In this article, he explores the role of scientism in Disney's work.

Someone once quipped that Walt Disney harbored "19th-century emotions in conflict with a 21st-century brain." The characterization was apt.

Disney, who died fifty years ago on December 15, was known for championing traditional morality and promoting nostalgia for a simpler past epitomized by small-town America. At the same time, he was widely recognized as a visionary futurist who enthusiastically embraced the new horizons offered by science and technology.

Disney's idiosyncratic mixture of moral traditionalism and techno-optimism didn't always seem to cohere, and it led people to admire him for vastly different reasons. Conservatives embraced Disney for his defense of Judeo-Christian morality, his unrepentant support for American republicanism, his love of free enterprise and entrepreneurship, and his distrust of big government and the welfare state. By contrast, fellow futurists were attracted to Disney's modernist ideas about urban planning, his exalted view of science and technology, and his utopian visions of human progress.

Although I have a keen appreciation for Disney and his achievements, I admit I'm not one of those who are especially enamored with his techno-optimism. During the last century, we've seen far too much destruction arising from the abuse of science and technology for me to believe that science can fundamentally reform the human heart or usher in a utopia. For me, scientific and technological progress is bittersweet. I think Disney was correct to see that science and technology can produce wondrous benefits for humanity. But they also make it easier for humans to accomplish their own destruction -- and that darker side of scientific and technological progress was rarely on display in Disney's projects as a futurist.

Consider his "Carousel of Progress," a stage show first developed for the 1964 World's Fair in New York City and later relocated to Disneyland and then Walt Disney World (where it still operates). Featuring "audio-animatronic" robots rather than live actors, the Carousel of Progress depicts the benefits to American society of the rapid technological advances during the first half of the 20th century. The audience meets an iconic middle-class American family at home circa 1900, the 1920s, the 1940s, and the 1960s.

In the 1900s, the family marvels over laborsaving inventions such as cast-iron stoves, gas lamps, ice boxes, and telephones. In the 1920s, the home has been wired for electricity, leading to electric lights, electric sewing machines, refrigerators, toasters, and coffee percolators. In the 1940s, the home adds even bigger and more efficient electric appliances, and by the 1960s, electric appliances have made preparations for previously exhausting holidays like Christmas a breeze.

Each act of this unfolding march of progress is linked together by the song "There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow," a secular hymn to man's creativity and his mastery of his environment penned by Richard and Robert Sherman of Mary Poppins fame. The infectious tune boasts that human knowhow can make dreams a reality and usher in "a great, big, beautiful tomorrow":

So there's a great, big, beautiful tomorrow

Shining at the end of every day

There's a great, big, beautiful tomorrow

Just a dream away

Disney's techno-optimism was also on display in the "Tomorrowland" area in Disneyland, and his planned but never-built "Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow" (EPCOT) in Florida. There is something alluring about the cheerful optimism of these efforts. But there is also something more than a little disturbing. The Carousel of Progress celebrated -- apparently without irony -- the use of television as parents' new "electronic babysitter," and the relocation of grandparents from their children's homes into segregated communities of seniors. The "House of the Future" at Disneyland featured modernist, plastic interiors and "irradiated food." Disney's vision for his Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow was even more hideous, exhibiting many of the worst features of modernist urban planning: top-down micro-management of every part of life; the artificial separation of where people live and work and play; bleak Bauhaus-style architecture; and the attempt to herd everyone into mass transit.

The visual center of EPCOT was a modernist 30-story hotel that was designed to be seen from miles around, although more traditional architectural forms weren't completely forgotten. The city's 50-acre business and shopping district was supposed to include faux buildings and streets patterned after architecture from other parts of the world, all located within a giant, temperature-controlled enclosure -- in essence, one great big shopping mall. The narrator of an early promotional film for EPCOT promised: "In this climate-controlled environment, shoppers, theatergoers, and people just out for a stroll will enjoy ideal weather conditions, protected day and night from rain, heat and cold, and humidity." Disney, who loved nature, who grew up amidst real small towns and farms, and who loved to travel to other parts of the world, planned to dispense with the natural environment in his city of the future. In his new artificial downtown, no one need ever experience the discomfort of the elements. Of course, neither would they experience its joys, including sunsets or summer breezes or raindrops or the songs of birds.

What rescued Walt Disney from being a completely uncritical champion of scientific and technological progress was not his ventures into theme parks or urban planning. It was some of his films. To be sure, his educational productions often promoted the same lop-sided techno-optimism, whether championing nuclear power in Our Friend the Atom (originally prepared for his weekly television show in 1957) or extolling the virtues of mass bombing in Victory Thru Air Power (1943). Fortunately, Disney's fictional productions displayed more ambiguity.The film in the Disney canon that offers arguably the most explicit warning about the abuse of science and technology is 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954), still the definitive cinematic adaptation of the Jules Verne novel of the same name. 20,000 Leagues depicts a supposedly civilized world where international powers employ science and technology for enslavement and death. The film's Captain Nemo is a twisted genius who ostensibly opposes the misuse of science, but who himself willingly employs science to kill others, even those not directly implicated in the crimes he opposes. At the end of the film, Nemo blows up his discoveries in an iconic mushroom cloud. To audiences in the 1950s, where fallout shelters and duck-and-cover drills were a fact of life, the film's ending was likely even more powerful than it is today.

Softening the film's otherwise bleak ending, Disney included a hopeful voiceover before the final credits, repeating the words of Captain Nemo himself from earlier in the film: "There is hope for the future. And when the world is ready for a new and better life, all this will someday come to pass, in God's good time." But what ultimately makes 20,000 Leagues so powerful is not those hopeful words, but the film's unflinching portrait of the human capacity to misuse science, a depiction that even its final words cannot completely obliterate.The dangers of science and technology can also be seen in Disney's comic fantasies, especially The Absent-Minded Professor (1961) and Son of Flubber (1963), two phenomenally popular films starring Disney's everyman, Fred MacMurray, as Professor Ned Brainard of mythical Medfield College. Brainard invents flying rubber, aka "flubber," a gooey substance that makes things defy gravity. Brainard is portrayed as a scientific genius, but also as a complete blunderer as a human being. With his single-minded devotion to science, he neglects his human relationships, leading him to miss his own wedding. Brainard is also oblivious to the societal consequences of his research. In Son of Flubber, he runs an experiment that inflicts widespread damage on the rest of his community even while he remains utterly clueless about what he has just done.

Both films highlight how non-scientists try to manipulate scientific discoveries for their own ends, satirizing in particular the behavior of politicians, the military, the IRS, and big business. Professor Brainard himself is shown to be corruptible, misusing his discoveries to take revenge on his romantic rival. For all of their celebration of the creativity of science, these comedies also warned against the pervasive dangers scientific progress can pose. As beneficial as science may be for society, it cannot be left free from social norms, and scientists themselves may not be the best judges of the cultural consequences of their discoveries.

But perhaps Disney's most scathing indictment of the dark side of technological progress came in a 1952 animated short based on the award-winning children's book, The Little House, which tells how a beloved house in the country is eventually swallowed up by the encroaching city. Disney's version of the tale was considerably darker than the original book, with the forces of technological development portrayed by Disney as nothing less than demonic.

The film explicitly attacks the modern slogan of "progress." While the screen reveals the depressing tenements now towering over the little house, the narrator ironically comments: "Everything was bigger and better, for this was the age of Progress." Each new wave of "progress" in the film produces ever more nightmarish results, finally resulting in an Inferno of crime and noise and traffic and tawdry 24-hour-a-day neon lights.

Here was a hellish vision of technological progress that seemed to represent the very antithesis of the techno-optimism of EPCOT. Disney may well have viewed EPCOT as an answer to the problems posed by technological progress in the past, showing how science and technology in the future could be harnessed to build better urban environments through all-pervasive master planning. How Disney squared his proposed micromanagement of civic life in EPCOT with his own faith in human freedom, free enterprise, and limited government is anybody's guess. For myself, I don't think Disney ever completely reconciled the tensions between his techno-optimism and the rest of his worldview.

But it's those unresolved tensions that made him all the more intriguing as a shaper of pop culture, and his films all the more worth watching.

A brave new world is closer than you think.

Experimenting with live patients / Some experts think it's OK to use vegetative human subjects
Wesley J. Smith

In the new novel "Hunters of Dune," biotechnologists of the future create "ghoulas" -- clones made from the dead -- in breeding contraptions known as "axlotl tanks." About 100 pages into the novel, the reader is shocked to learn that axlotl tanks are really unconscious women whose bodies have been expropriated to serve the greater good as so many gestating vats.

Happily, "Hunters of Dune" is science fiction. In the real world, we have a higher sense of morality and ethics. We would never use catastrophically disabled human beings so crassly. We understand that treating people as mere things violates the intrinsic dignity of the individual and the equal moral worth of all human life.

Well, most of us do.

Unfortunately, many bioethicists would feel right at home in a world in which unconscious people are converted into mere biological machines. Indeed, some of our most prominent bioethical and philosophical thinkers have published articles in the world's most respected medical and bioethical journals proposing that unconscious patients (those diagnosed as in a persistent vegetative state) be used both as vital organ donors and the subjects of human medical experimentation.

Those we would exploit, we must first dehumanize. A favored proposal for stripping these vulnerable patients of their humanity is to redefine a diagnosis of persistent vegetative state into the legal equivalent of death -- even if the "dead" patient breathes without assistance.

"The essence of human existence," the influential Georgetown University bioethicist Robert Veatch wrote several years ago in the Journal of Clinical Ethics, "is the presence of integrated mind and body. ... For the human to exist in any legal, moral or socially significant sense, these two features must be present." And, since those diagnosed as vegetative are thought to be unaware, according to Veatch and many of his colleagues, they are merely "respiring cadavers" who could even be buried except that it "is simply unaesthetic to bury someone while still breathing."

The proposed redefinition of these living patients into dead, albeit breathing, bodies is intended to pave the way for using them as so many organ farms.

A 1996 article in the British medical journal Lancet put it this way: "If the legal definition of death were to be changed to include comprehensive irreversible loss of higher brain function, it would be possible to take the life of a patient (or more accurately to stop the heart, since the patient would be defined as dead) by a 'lethal' injection and then remove the organs needed for transplantation, subject to the usual criteria for consent."

  More recently, the notion that the bodies of persistent vegetative patients should be exploitable has been extended to the realm of cutting-edge medical research -- perhaps for the purpose of using these profoundly disabled people in place of primates or other animals.

Illustrating how respectable these radical views have become among the medical intelligentsia, articles and letters published during the past two years in the Journal of Medical Ethics have gone so far as urging that vegetative patients be used to test the safety of "xenotransplantation," that is, of transplanting animal (usually pig) organs into humans.

The usual ethical approach in medical research is to complete animal testing and then cautiously move into human trials with patients who could conceivably benefit from the experimental drug or procedure. But some bioethicists worry about the social, personal and sexual contacts of early pig organ recipients allowing a porcine virus to cross the species boundary and setting off a pandemic.

But quarantining pig organ recipients is seen as violating their personal autonomy. The proposed "ethical" remedy for this conundrum is to use persistent vegetative bodies in place of patients who actually need new organs in early xenotransplantation experiments.

"If it can be agreed upon that PVS bodies can be regarded as dead," Belgian professor An Ravelingien and several co-authors wrote in 2004, "then experimenting on them is legitimate under the same conditions as experiments on cadavers," so long as they consented to be used in this fashion prior to their impairment. To illustrate the extent to which these bioethicists dehumanize people diagnosed as , Ravelingien asserts that "living cadavers" in persistent vegetative state should not be called "patients" because that wrongly humanizes them and "impedes the discussion."

This year, Heather Draper, a bioethicist from Birmingham, England, took Ravelingien's argument one step further: "My own view is that people in a PVS are still alive," she wrote. But this seemingly obvious observation should not, in Draper's view, preclude these helpless patients from being used in animal organ transplant experiments. "I see no objection in principle to the proposal that competent people can decide, in advance, to participate in research when they become incompetent."

Nor, apparently, would Draper limit such human experimentation to those believed to be unconscious. "Helping others by taking part in clinical research is undoubtedly a good way to live out what may be years in a PVS or other less-compromised states," she writes.

Consider the kind of scenario this advocacy contemplates: Alice, a woman in her late 20s, nearly drowns. Aggressive CPR restarts her heart but she remains unresponsive for six months. Doctors tell her husband Jack she is in a persistent vegetative state -- and although the diagnosis is difficult to make with certainty and is often wrong -- they conclude she will never awaken.

Since the law now considers a persistent vegetative state the same as being dead, the state issues a death certificate. Jack assures doctors that Alice wanted her body used for science if she ever died or became profoundly incapacitated. Accordingly, her "breathing cadaver" is transferred from a nursing home to a major organ transplant center. Soon, her kidneys are removed for transplantation into renal patients. Doctors then implant pig kidneys. Alice survives the surgery and continues to breathe on her own. She lives for years in isolation as researchers continually test for dangerous porcine viral infections. When the experiment concludes, Alice is lethally injected -- which is not considered euthanasia because she is already legally dead -- and her remains are cremated.

It's an ugly picture, and it is important to emphasize that transplant surgeons do not currently harvest the organs of vegetative patients, nor do medical researchers use these most vulnerable people in unethical medical experiments. But if we want to keep it that way, we will have to make it unequivocally clear to the bioethicists and our lawmakers that patients diagnosed with persistent vegetative state are people, too. It's wrong to reduce them into the nonfictional equivalents of axlotl tanks.

C.S.I Unhyped?

Darwinists' Just so stories are beyond parody.

The 12 Points of Evolution: Evolutionists Outdo The Office

And Air Travel.
Cornelius Hunter

When The Office manager Michael Scott (played by Steve Carell) gives a guest lecture at the local business school, he reveals not only the depths of his ignorance but his lack of self-awareness. At one point he hilariously makes an attempt at profundity, informing the students with all assuredness that “There are four kinds of business: Tourism, food service, railroads, and sales.” Realizing his categories have left something out he quickly adds “And hospitals-slash-manufacturing. And air travel.” Scott hasn’t had a deep thought in his life, yet is certain his knowledge and intellect tower over those around him.

I was reminded of Carell’s hilarious portrayal of Scott this week when evolutionist Dan Graur made an attempt to describe “All of evolutionary biology” in 12 points. One can picture Graur, like Carell, starting with the four main points of evolution, and quickly realizing there is another point or two that he left out. But Graur’s first point is beyond anything fiction writers could have dreamed up:

1. Evolutionary biology is ruled by handful of logical principles, each of which has repeatedly withstood rigorous empirical and observational testing.

Logical principles? Rigorous empirical testing? You’ve got to be kidding. The entire biological world arising by chance comes from logical principles? A theory that contradicts science at every turn has repeatedly withstood rigorous testing? The sheer pompous absurdity leaves Carell in the dust.

But it gets better.

5. All novelty in evolution starts as a single mutation arising in a single individual at a single time point.

Here Graur has spoken the unspeakable. In his ramblings Graur has laid bare the uncomfortable truth: evolutionary thought holds that the world arose spontaneously. Those Epicurean chance events, whether swerving atoms or mutating molecules, conspired to create everything we see. The idea is prima facie ridiculous and evolutionists do everything to dress it up with more palatable notions of natural selection, fitness landscapes, and all manner of Aristotelian euphemisms (“Dinosaurs were experimenting with flight”).

Not surprisingly evolutionists rushed in to cover over the embarrassment. Outdoing Steve Carell, Matthew Cobb hilariously added predation:

I think the main thing that’s not quite right about this is 5, “All novelty in evolution starts as a single mutation arising in a single individual at a single time point”. While this is essentially true, it misses out two of the most significant novelties in the history of life, which were not created by mutation, but instead by instances of predation that went wrong and instead produced symbiosis, with one kind of cell living inside another. The first such event took place around 2 billion years ago, somewhere in the ocean. Prior to that moment, all life had consisted of small organisms called prokaryotes which had no cell nucleus or mitochondria (these are the tiny cellular structures that help provide you and me and giraffes and mushrooms with energy). Everything changed when one unicellular life-form, known as an achaebacterium, tried to eat another, called a eubacterium. On this one occasion the eubacterium survived inside its would-be predator and became trapped, losing many of its genes to its host and eventually turning into a molecular powerhouse – the mitochondrion – that produced energy from chemical reactions and was used by the new eukaryotic cell. These new eukaryotic life-forms were a weird hybrid, composed of two different organisms. They were our ancestors. A second, similar, event occurred around a billion years ago, when a eukaryotic cell, complete with mitochondria, engulfed a eubacterium that had long ago evolved the trick of acquiring energy from sunlight, through photosynthesis. Predation went wrong again, and another form of symbiosis eventually appeared. This gave rise to algae and eventually plants, in which small organelles called chloroplasts, the descendants of the intended eubacterial victim, turn light into energy for the benefit of the eukaryotic host.

Of course one could also add any number of other evolutionary just-so stories, from Woese’s network of horizontal gene transfer creating a coordinated lateral evolution to retroviruses controlling embryonic development, evolutionary story-telling has no shortage of mechanisms that, as luck would have it, not only were created by evolution but, in turn, have produced more evolutionary change of their own.

The serendipity is staggering. Cobb’s fortuitous predators, as well as all the other imagined evolutionary mechanisms must have been, ultimately, created by those random mutations.

Graur put his finger on it.

All the evolutionary just-so stories, no matter how ridiculous, nonetheless owe their existence to those chance mutations. The rest is serendipity, just ask Michael Scott.

Is Darwinism falsifiable?

Thank Darwin for Dysteleology! Evolution Can't Lose
Casey Luskin 

A short article in Science, "The Burdens of Being a Biped," argues for evolution based on considerations of dysteleology. It claims that "A brief tour of the body reveals a number of design flaws." The problem, the article says, is that humans are built upon a quadrupedal body plan that wasn't "designed" to walk upright. This supposedly explains why we commonly suffer from back and other problems related to our bipedal locomotion.

Science quotes evolutionary anthropologist Bruce Latimer who asserts,

We've taken a body that was adapted to being horizontal to the ground and made it erect ... We've had to change nearly every bone in the body, and as a consequence, there are many things that humans suffer from that no other animal does.
So when natural selection fine-tunes a structure, that's evidence for evolution. But when "imperfect evolution" has "left us with vertebrae that break more easily, weaker bones, and feet prone to heel spurs and sprained ankles," that's also evidence of evolution. Dysteleology is great: evolution can't lose!
There's no question that we all face the prospect of bodily ailments we wish we could avoid. But Science has succumbed to the fallacy of arguing for evolution by citing undesirable design. In fact, undesirable features of our anatomy and physiology are no more a proof of evolution than they are a disproof of intelligent design.

Of course it's possible too that humans suffer from unique ailments having nothing to do with evolution. Maybe our unique problems stem from the fact that we're one of the only fully bipedal mammals -- by far the largest one, at that. In other words, we're a unique species, so it's not surprising we suffer ailments "that no other animal does."

There may be an additional explanation for why humans have so many back problems -- and it too has nothing to do with evolution. It may, however, have something to do with error or incompetence -- that is, on the part of the design's user, rather than the designer. As the article states:

Apes lose bone mass as they age as well, but they don't suffer fractures because their bones are so much denser to begin with. Humans could have more apelike bones if they got more exercise as youths, as early humans did, Ward says. "If we treated our skeletons the way they were designed to be treated, they would serve us better later in life."

So, our bodies work best when they get lots of exercise -- but that's exactly what we lazy folks in the Western world aren't getting enough of. If our bodies were "designed" to get more exercise, maybe the cause of many ailments isn't "design flaw," but user-error. Seems like when used properly, our bodies aren't so poorly designed after all.

Paradise:The watchtower society's commentary.

PARADISE

A beautiful park, or a parklike garden. The Greek word pa·raʹdei·sos occurs three times in the Christian Greek Scriptures. (Lu 23:43; 2Co 12:4; Re 2:7) Greek writers as far back as Xenophon (c. 431-352 B.C.E.) used the word , and Pollux attributed it to a Persian origin (pairidaeza). (Cyropaedia, I, iii, 14; Anabasis, I, ii, 7; Onomasticon, IX, 13) Some lexicographers would derive the Hebrew word par·desʹ (meaning, basically, a park) from the same source. But since Solomon (of the 11th century B.C.E.) used par·desʹ in his writings, whereas existing Persian writings go back only to about the sixth century B.C.E., such derivation of the Hebrew term is only conjectural. (Ec 2:5; Ca 4:13) The remaining use of par·desʹ is at Nehemiah 2:8, where reference is made to a royal wooded park of Persian King Artaxerxes Longimanus, in the fifth century B.C.E.—See PARK.

The three terms (Hebrew par·desʹ, Persian pairidaeza, and Greek pa·raʹdei·sos), however, all convey the basic idea of a beautiful park or parklike garden. The first such park was that made by man’s Creator, Jehovah God, in Eden. (Ge 2:8, 9, 15) It is called a gan, or “garden,” in Hebrew but was obviously parklike in size and nature. The Greek Septuagint appropriately uses the term pa·raʹdei·sos with reference to that garden. (See EDEN No. 1; GARDEN [Garden of Eden].) Because of sin, Adam lost his right to live in that paradise and his opportunity to gain the right to everlasting life, which right was represented in the fruit of a divinely designated tree in the center of the garden. The garden of Eden may have been enclosed in some way, since it was necessary to place angelic guards only at the east side thereof to prevent human entrance.—Ge 3:22-24.

What is the Paradise that Jesus promised to the evildoer who died alongside him?

Luke’s account shows that an evildoer, being executed alongside Jesus Christ, spoke words in Jesus’ defense and requested that Jesus remember him when he ‘got into his kingdom.’ Jesus’ reply was: “Truly I tell you today, You will be with me in Paradise.” (Lu 23:39-43) The punctuation shown in the rendering of these words must, of course, depend on the translator’s understanding of the sense of Jesus’ words, since no punctuation was used in the original Greek text. Punctuation in the modern style did not become common until about the ninth century C.E. Whereas many translations place a comma before the word “today” and thereby give the impression that the evildoer entered Paradise that same day, there is nothing in the rest of the Scriptures to support this. Jesus himself was dead and in the tomb until the third day and was then resurrected as “the firstfruits” of the resurrection. (Ac 10:40; 1Co 15:20; Col 1:18) He ascended to heaven 40 days later.—Joh 20:17; Ac 1:1-3, 9.

The evidence is, therefore, that Jesus’ use of the word “today” was not to give the time of the evildoer’s being in Paradise but, rather, to call attention to the time in which the promise was being made and during which the evildoer had shown a measure of faith in Jesus. It was a day when Jesus had been rejected and condemned by the highest-ranking religious leaders of his own people and was thereafter sentenced to die by Roman authority. He had become an object of scorn and ridicule. So the wrongdoer alongside him had shown a notable quality and commendable heart attitude in not going along with the crowd but, rather, speaking out in Jesus’ behalf and expressing belief in his coming Kingship. Recognizing that the emphasis is correctly placed on the time of the promise’s being made rather than on the time of its fulfillment, other translations, such as those in English by Rotherham and Lamsa, those in German by Reinhardt and W. Michaelis, as well as the Curetonian Syriac of the fifth century C.E., rendered the text in a form similar to the reading of the New World Translation, quoted herein.

As to the identification of the Paradise of which Jesus spoke, it is clearly not synonymous with the heavenly Kingdom of Christ. Earlier that day entry into that heavenly Kingdom had been held out as a prospect for Jesus’ faithful disciples but on the basis of their having ‘stuck with him in his trials,’ something the evildoer had never done, his dying on a stake alongside Jesus being purely for his own criminal acts. (Lu 22:28-30; 23:40, 41) The evildoer obviously had not been “born again,” of water and spirit, which Jesus showed was a prerequisite to entry into the Kingdom of the heavens. (Joh 3:3-6) Nor was the evildoer one of the ‘conquerors’ that the glorified Christ Jesus stated would be with him on his heavenly throne and that have a share in “the first resurrection.”—Re 3:11, 12, 21; 12:10, 11; 14:1-4; 20:4-6.

Some reference works present the view that Jesus was referring to a paradise location in Hades or Sheol, supposedly a compartment or division thereof for those approved by God. The claim is made that the Jewish rabbis of that time taught the existence of such a paradise for those who had died and were awaiting a resurrection. Regarding the teachings of the rabbis, Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible states: “The Rabbinical theology as it has come down to us exhibits an extraordinary medley of ideas on these questions, and in the case of many of them it is difficult to determine the dates to which they should be assigned. . . . Taking the literature as it is, it might appear that Paradise was regarded by some as on earth itself, by others as forming part of Sheol, by others still as neither on earth nor under earth, but in heaven . . . But there is some doubt as respects, at least, part of this. These various conceptions are found indeed in later Judaism. They appear most precisely and most in detail in the mediaeval Cabbalistic Judaism . . . But it is uncertain how far back these things can be carried. The older Jewish theology at least . . . seems to give little or no place to the idea of an intermediate Paradise. It speaks of a Gehinnom for the wicked, and a Gan Eden, or garden of Eden, for the just. It is questionable whether it goes beyond these conceptions and affirms a Paradise in Sheol.”—1905, Vol. III, pp. 669, 670.

Even if they did teach such a thing, it would be most unreasonable to believe that Jesus would propagate such a concept, in view of his condemnation of the non-Biblical religious traditions of the Jewish religious leaders. (Mt 15:3-9) Likely the paradise truly familiar to the Jewish malefactor to whom Jesus spoke was the earthly Paradise described in the first book of the Hebrew Scriptures, the Paradise of Eden. That being so, Jesus’ promise would reasonably point to a restoration of such earthly paradisaic condition. His promise to the wrongdoer would therefore give assured hope of a resurrection of such an unrighteous one to an opportunity to life in that restored Paradise.—Compare Ac 24:15; Re 20:12, 13; 21:1-5; Mt 6:10.

A Spiritual Paradise. Throughout many of the prophetic books of the Bible, divine promises are found regarding the restoration of Israel from the lands of its exile to its desolated homeland. God would cause that abandoned land to be tilled and sown, to produce richly, and to abound with humankind and animalkind; the cities would be rebuilt and inhabited, and people would say: “That land yonder which was laid desolate has become like the garden of Eden.” (Eze 36:6-11, 29, 30, 33-35; compare Isa 51:3; Jer 31:10-12; Eze 34:25-27.) However, these prophecies also show that paradise conditions related to the people themselves, who, by faithfulness to God, could now “sprout” and flourish as “trees of righteousness,” enjoying beautiful spiritual prosperity like a “well-watered garden,” showered by bounteous blessings from God because of having his favor. (Isa 58:11; 61:3, 11; Jer 31:12; 32:41; compare Ps 1:3; 72:3, 6-8, 16; 85:10-13; Isa 44:3, 4.) The people of Israel had been God’s vineyard, his planting, but their badness and apostasy from true worship had caused a figurative ‘withering away’ of their spiritual field, even before the literal desolation of their land took place.—Compare Ex 15:17; Isa 5:1-8; Jer 2:21.

It is evident, however, that the restoration prophecies recorded by the Hebrew prophets include elements that will also find a physical fulfillment in the restored earthly Paradise. There are features, for example, in Isaiah 35:1-7, such as the healing of the blind and the lame, that did not have a literal fulfillment following the restoration from ancient Babylon, nor are they fulfilled in such a manner in the Christian spiritual paradise. It would be inconsistent for God to inspire such prophecies as those of Isaiah 11:6-9, Ezekiel 34:25, and Hosea 2:18, with the intention that they have only a figurative or spiritual meaning, without having a literal fulfillment of these things in the physical experiences of God’s servants. The paradise that Paul mentioned at 2 Corinthians 12:4 could also refer to the future paradise, both physical and spiritual, of these Hebrew prophecies, as well as possibly being a vision of “the paradise of God,” the blessed condition in heaven.—Re 2:7.


Eating in “the Paradise of God.” Revelation 2:7 mentions a “tree of life” in “the paradise of God” and that eating from it would be the privilege of the one “that conquers.” Since other promises given in this section of Revelation to such conquering ones clearly relate to their gaining a heavenly inheritance (Re 2:26-28; 3:12, 21), it seems evident that “the paradise of God” in this case is a heavenly one. The word “tree” here translates the Greek word xyʹlon, which literally means “wood,” and in the plural could refer to an orchard of trees. In the earthly Paradise of Eden, eating of the tree of life would have meant living forever for man. (Ge 3:22-24) Even the fruit of the other trees of the garden would have been life sustaining for man as long as he continued obedient. So, the partaking of “the tree [or trees] of life” in “the paradise of God” evidently relates to the divine provision for sustained life granted the Christian conquerors, other texts showing that they receive the prize of immortality and incorruptibility along with their heavenly Head and Lord, Christ Jesus.—1Co 15:50-54; 1Pe 1:3, 4.

Are green jobs the economic future?

Big government = small citizen?:Pros and cons.

Russia's war on religious liberty IV

Is there such a thing as scientifically detecting design?

Back to the Drawing board re:planet formation?

Weirdly tilted exoplanet knocks formation theory out of line
November 27, 2015 Posted by News under Exoplanets, Intelligent Design


From New Scientist: Recent theory:

The idea is that smaller, colder stars have thicker atmospheres. “That provides handles with which the star can grab onto the planet and vice versa,” Winn says. Over time, those gravitational handles exert a tidal force on the planet, pulling it and its star into alignment.

But then:

But one Jupiter-mass planet discovered earlier this year, HATS-14b, seems to threaten that idea. Because it tightly circles a small star, its orbit should have flattened out quickly – but the orbit is instead tilted a whopping 76 degrees from the plane in which its star spins.

“It should have aligned with the spin of the host star, and what we’re finding is that it has not,” says study leader George Zhou, who conducted the research at the Australian National University in Canberra. “It was quite obvious from some of the very first measurements that it was an outlier.” … Understanding why, or finding other planets like HATS-14b, could knock down the tidal theory – which even Winn is starting to doubt.

In another new paper, Winn and Gongjie Li of Harvard University address another flaw in the traditional idea… More.

Hmmmm. The first exoplanets began to be discovered in the early 1990s. It’s probably too early for strong theories.

Here’s the abstract:

The obliquities of planet-hosting stars are clues about the formation of planetary systems. Previous observations led to the hypothesis that for close-in giant planets, spin-orbit alignment is enforced by tidal interactions. Here, we examine two problems with this hypothesis. First, Mazeh and coworkers recently used a new technique — based on the amplitude of starspot-induced photometric variability — to conclude that spin-orbit alignment is common even for relatively long-period planets, which would not be expected if tides were responsible. We re-examine the data and find a statistically significant correlation between photometric variability and planetary orbital period that is qualitatively consistent with tidal interactions. However it is still difficult to explain quantitatively, as it would require tides to be effective for periods as long as tens of days. Second, Rogers and Lin argued against a particular theory for tidal re-alignment by showing that initially retrograde systems would fail to be re-aligned, in contradiction with the observed prevalence of prograde systems. We investigate a simple model that overcomes this problem by taking into account the dissipation of inertial waves and the equilibrium tide, as well as magnetic braking. We identify a region of parameter space where re-alignment can be achieved, but it only works for close-in giant planets, and requires some fine tuning. Thus, while we find both problems to be more nuanced than they first appeared, the tidal model still has serious shortcomings. Open access – Gongjie Li, Joshua N. Winn

From president to emperor?Pros and cons.

The spoon rather than the knife?Pros and cons.

Long live big brother?Pros and cons.

A clash of Titans XL

A clash of Titans XXXIX

Playing with fire?

On Darwinism's zombie stories.

Daddy and Baby: Evolutionary Legends Die Hard

David Klinghoffer 

A colleague shares this gem from a get-together with friends:

I was hanging out with some friends last night and one of them is pregnant. Another gal in the group told her that her baby will look like the dad at first because this is a product of evolution -- a way to confirm paternity. Of course I knew it was a just-so story and here's an article in Scientific American actually admitting that. I just think it's interesting because they rarely admit stuff like that. This article is old, but obviously people still talk about the issue.

The referenced article is from 2011:

Fact or Fiction: Do Babies Resemble Their Fathers More Than Their Mothers?

Recent studies do not support the claim of an enhanced resemblance between fathers and their young offspring

Does junior really have his father's nose?

A common bit of parenting folklore holds that babies tend to look more like their fathers than their mothers, a claim with a reasonable evolutionary explanation. Fathers, after all, do not share a mother's certainty that a baby is theirs, and are more likely to invest whatever resources they have in their own offspring. Human evolution, then, could have favored children that resemble their fathers, at least early on, as a way of confirming paternity.

The paternal-resemblance hypothesis got some scientific backing in 1995, when a study in Nature by Nicholas Christenfeld and Emily Hill of the University of California, San Diego, showed that people were much better at matching photos of one-year-old children with pictures of their fathers than with photos of their mothers....

Case closed? Hardly. "It's a very sexy result, it's seductive, it's what evolutionary psychology would predict -- and I think it's wrong," says psychologist Robert French of the National Center for Scientific Research in France. A subsequent body of research, building over the years in the journal Evolution & Human Behavior, has delivered results in conflict with the 1995 paper, indicating that young children resemble both parents equally. Some studies have even found that newborns tend to resemble their mothers more than their fathers.

It goes on from there. Read the rest.

The other day Doug Axe referred to the "legend" of natural selection with its creative prowess in generating biological novelties. But of course the legend has many sub-legends and derivatives. They die hard.

How many years, how many decades from now do you think consumers of science media will be getting together and sharing this particular tall tale, after even professional evolutionists have ceased to believe in it?

When cheer leading supersedes fact-checking.

Feathers on a Bird or Dinosaur Tail? The Media Are Certain; the Scientific Evidence Less So
Evolution News & Views 

A section of a 99-million-year-old feathered tail discovered in a chunk of amber in Myanmar belongs to a juvenile dinosaur, a coelurosaur, not a bird. The media are certain of it. The actual evidence is more ambiguous. National Geographic pounds the pulpit for a feathered dino:

First Dinosaur Tail Found Preserved in Amber
The tail of a 99-million-year-old dinosaur, including bones, soft tissue, and even feathers, has been found preserved in amber, according to a report published today in the journal Current Biology.

While individual dinosaur-era feathers have been found in amber, and evidence for feathered dinosaurs is captured in fossil impressions, this is the first time that scientists are able to clearly associate well-preserved feathers with a dinosaur, and in turn gain a better understanding of the evolution and structure of dinosaur feathers.

...

The semitranslucent mid-Cretaceous amber sample, roughly the size and shape of a dried apricot, captures one of the earliest moments of differentiation between the feathers of birds of flight and the feathers of dinosaurs.

...

The presence of articulated tail vertebrae in the sample enabled researchers to rule out the possibility that the feathers belonged to a prehistoric bird. Modern birds and their closest Cretaceous ancestors feature a set of fused tail vertebrae called a pygostyle that enables tail feathers to move as a single unit.

The reason that they claim it is a dinosaur and not a bird is because this is supposedly from a "long-tailed" individual. Most birds with bony tails are short-tailed, meaning they have fewer vertebrae in their tail compared to dinosaurs. Under ten vertebrae, perhaps only six or seven, would be the norm for a bony-tailed bird.

So what do they think about the number of vertebrae in this amber fossil? They say the living individual "likely" had more than 25 vertebrae.

But this is a matter of inference, because, as the paper admits, the soft tissue in the fossil is so undifferentiated from the bone that it is very difficult to tell what is tissue and what are vertebrae. As the paper puts it in technical language:

SR X-ray μCT scanning of DIP-V-15103 revealed that soft tissues have a density insufficiently different from the partially replaced skeletal elements to permit X-ray imaging and virtual dissection of osteology alone. Consequently, many diagnostic and comparative osteological details remain obscured.
At most, they can see clear evidence of only two vertebrae in this tail. From that they extrapolate that it had more than 25:

However, two vertebrae are clearly delineated ventrally (Figures 1F-1H). Extrapolating lengths of these vertebrae, the preserved tail section contains at least eight full vertebrae and part of a ninth.
So when they extrapolate from the two visible vertebrae, they get nine. That would certainly not preclude the creature from being a bird. In fact, some fossil birds had up to 20 to 23 vertebrae. As another paper states:

Archaeopteryx retained an ancestral caudal vertebral count of between 20 and 23. The next most basal bird, Jeholornis, from the Jiufotang Formation of China and dated at approximately 120 million years old, was also long-tailed, and had 22 caudal vertebrae that are nearly identical to those of Archaeopteryx.
If it did have up to 20 to 23 vertebrae, it could still be a bird. Yet again it's not clear exactly how many vertebrae this tail had because too much of it is missing.

The paper goes on:

Even with the skin adpressed to the bony surface, no features other than the grooved ventral sulci of two centra are clearly visible. This lack of topography suggests that the vertebrae lack prominent neural arches, transverse processes, or hemal arches. Therefore, the preserved segment is only a small mid to distal portion of what was likely a relatively long tail, with the total caudal vertebral count not reasonably less than 15, and likely greater than 25.
So they claim that the shape of the vertebrae suggests that what they are seeing is from the middle of the tail, and the actual tail was much longer. They admit that most features are not "clearly visible." Given that you can barely distinguish soft tissue from bone in this fossil, their inferences go too far.

Indeed while researcher Ryan McKellar tells Science Daily that "the feathers definitely are those of a dinosaur not a prehistoric bird," the paper itself is more circumspect, saying "it can likely be excluded from the long-tailed birds" (emphasis added). The Supplemental Information that goes with the paper includes the notable statement:

[T]here is a distinctive ventral groove on the caudal centra of the specimen, which is widely distributed among non-avialan theropods but which has yet to be reported in avialans (though the possibility of its presence in the two known long-tailed birds Archaeopteryx and Jeholornis cannot be excluded).
As a final note, one could argue that the age of the fossil (about 99 Ma) suggests that this individual lived long after known long-tailed bony-tailed birds. According to this paper, the most recent long-tailed bony-tailed bird lived about 122 million years ago.

That would be a very weak argument, however, since evolutionists regularly tolerate chronological gaps in the fossil record much greater than 20 million years. In fact they do this in their dinosaur-to-bird hypothesis.

After all, the dinosaurs that they claim supposedly gave rise to birds lived about 125 million years ago, but true birds like Archaeopteryx lived as far as about 150 million years ago. That's a major time gap. So if one were to propose that perhaps the long-tailed birds known from ~122 million years ago survived until ~99 million years ago, you would not be extrapolating fossil lineages any more than they already do.

In any case, all praise is due to the researchers for discovering and presenting this beautiful fossil with its unmistakable feathers. Probably no known feathers this old have ever been preserved in such gorgeous detail.


But unfortunately we have so little material, and the bone is so difficult to distinguish from the soft tissue, that any strong claims about this tail should be greeted with skepticism. This paper will not be the last word on the nature of the animal that sported this wonderful tail.

Optimal and then some.

Respect for Kinesin Grows
Evolution News & and Views December 10, 2015 5:39 PM 



The Discovery Institute video "Workhorse of the Cell: Kinesin" premiered last year on YouTube. Since then, additional facts about these molecular motors have come to light. Some highlights:

Relay Handoff

Kinesin-II, one of the extended family of kinesin motors, is involved in a "relay race" on a micro-miniature scale. It demonstrates how different families of molecular motors cooperate. This one works in synergy with other cargo-carrying motors in the important complex function known as "intra-flagellar transport" (IFT) that builds and maintains cilia and flagella. An important example occurs in the neurons of the eye.

O'Hagan and Barr, writing for Nature Cell Reports, describe "A motor relay on ciliary tracks" between kinesin-II and another motor. It turns out that kinesin-II is the marathoner running up the neuron into the crowded transition zone (TZ), where it "hands off" its cargo a sprinter named OSM-3 that runs it up to the cilium tip.

Peterman, Scholey and colleagues have now discovered a previously unappreciated complexity in the cooperation of anterograde motors using advanced techniques ....

They find that kinesin-II acts as an import motor that transports cargos from the distal dendrite into the ciliary TZ (Fig. 1). Because the TZ is cluttered with obstacles such as Y-link attachments, kinesin-II (with its tendency to frequently detach from microtubules) may easily sidestep obstructions, switching to an adjacent microtubule protofilament to continue on its path to deliver cargo to the PS [proximal segment]. A similar model of obstacle avoidance was proposed to function in axons, in which kinesin-2 binds the same cargo as kinesin-1 to allow the complex to sidestep around Tau protein obstacles.

The authors then observed gradual acceleration of IFT in the PS, accompanied by a gradual decrease in abundance of kinesin-II and concurrent increase in OSM-3 (KIF17) (Fig. 1). The acceleration resulting from changing the ratio of kinesin-II to OSM-3 did not match previous predictions from in vitro data. Instead, a biased contribution model, in which OSM-3 outcompetes kinesin-II ten-fold, fitted the acceleration observed in vivo. These results suggested a 'handover zone' in the PS, in which kinesin-II gradually hands over its transport duties to the faster and more processive OSM-3, which then acts as an efficient long-range motor to bring IFT complexes to the ciliary tip. [Emphasis added.]

Noting that different kinds of cilia in various species have different families of motors acting together, the authors describe "an emerging theme" in IFT research. They sugest that "kinesin-II plays an essential role in ciliogenesis, whereas accessory motors are associated with specializations in ciliary form and function." Many debilitating diseases are known to occur from mutations in IFT.

It's amusing how they used the word "evolution" only one time. "Why did evolution add another anterograde motor when heterotrimeric kinesin-II seems capable of doing the job alone in algae?" As it turns out, this relay race is an efficient way to get the job done. Kinesin-II and OSM-3 each have their strengths, and each one is matched for its environment. Then, at the ciliary tip, another molecular motor -- dynein -- takes cargo back down.

The paper by Scholey and Peterman and colleagues in Nature Cell Biology doesn't have anything to say about evolution. Instead, the scientists explain why "functional differentiation" provides the best way to get cargo delivered on time:

Dissociated kinesin-II motors undergo rapid turnaround and recycling to the ciliary base, whereas OSM-3 is recycled mainly to the handover zone. This reveals a functional differentiation in which the slower, less processive kinesin-II imports IFT trains into the cilium and OSM-3 drives their long-range transport, thereby optimizing cargo delivery.

Kinesin-II is no slouch as a runner. In our video, it appears to walk slowly and deliberately, but remember: the narrator says it can take a hundred steps a second. The researchers seem to like the word "optimize," using it four times in all, such as:

We propose that the functional differentiation of kinesin-II and OSM-3 into an import motor and transport motor, respectively, optimizes sequential steps of anterograde IFT to build the cilium. The system thus exploits each kinesin-2's specific motor properties and requires that the number of motors on the cargo, that is, the IFT train, is well orchestrated, resulting in a gradual exchange of the different motors to ensure reliable handover of cargo (Fig. 7). In a broader context, the deployment of similar, same-polarity yet functionally differentiated motors may represent a common strategy for optimizing intracellular transport.

"Optimize" is a design term. Evolutionists, by contrast, are fond of "tinkering," wherein natural selection supposedly cobbles together parts just to get by. Which word is a better match to the observations?

Myosin Mimicry

Another walking motor is myosin, which walks along actin filaments instead of microtubules. Bioengineers at Emory University weren't quite able to imitate its motion, but they did improve on previous attempts by inventing a DNA-based motor that rolls like a wheel. At first, the news from Emory makes it sound like they bested nature:

"Unlike other synthetic DNA-based motors, which use legs to 'walk' like tiny robots, ours is the first rolling DNA motor, making it far faster and more robust," says Khalid Salaita, the Emory University chemist who led the research. "It's like the biological equivalent of the invention of the wheel for the field of DNA machines."

But then they have nothing but praise for natural myosin:

The field of synthetic DNA-based motors, also known as nano-walkers, is about 15 years old. Researchers are striving to duplicate the action of nature's nano-walkers. Myosin, for example, are tiny biological mechanisms that "walk" on filaments to carry nutrients throughout the human body.

"It's the ultimate in science fiction," Salaita says of the quest to create tiny robots, or nano-bots, that could be programmed to do your bidding. "People have dreamed of sending in nano-bots to deliver drugs or to repair problems in the human body."

So far, however, mankind's efforts have fallen far short of nature's myosin, which speeds effortlessly about its biological errands. "The ability of myosin to convert chemical energy into mechanical energy is astounding," Salaita says. "They are the most efficient motors we know of today."

The engineer makes this blunder in his reasoning, though:

"Our DNA-based motor can travel one centimeter in seven days, instead of 20 years, making it 1,000 times faster than the older versions," Salaita says. "In fact, nature's myosin motors are only 10 times faster than ours, and it took them billions of years to evolve."

For one thing, myosins are present in the earliest cells we know of, so it didn't take them "billions of years to evolve." For another, if he applied intelligence to build a cheap mimic, wouldn't that be evidence that the superior product required an intelligent cause?

Molecular Ruler

We see myosin at work in another role described in a paper in Nature Communications: helping maintain the cytoskeleton. There's an "evolutionarily conserved" group of "Rho-associated coiled-coil kinases" (ROCK) that "are essential regulators of the actin cytoskeleton" on which myosins travel. The authors give us a glimpse into the precarious balance of motors that keep a cell's membrane intact:

The ability of cells to change shape underpins physiological processes from embryonic development through pathogen clearance in the immune system. The plasma membrane of cells exhibits high mechanical resistance yet permits enormous changes in cell shape. This apparent paradox is resolved by a dynamic network of actin and myosin filaments beneath the plasma membrane that forms the cortical cytoskeleton. Stress fibres, bundles of actin fibres and myosin II motors traverse the cell between focal adhesions that anchor the cell in the extracellular matrix. Actomyosin contraction against these anchors generates the force required for shape change and cell motility. Phosphorylation of regulatory myosin light chain (RMLC) stimulates myosin activity, leading to contractile force generation. The Rho-associated coiled-coil kinases (ROCK) are essential for the maintenance and integrity of stress fibres in the cell by directly and/or indirectly phosphorylating RMLC. A null mutant of the Drosophila Rok gene or deletion of ROCK1 or ROCK2 in mice results in prenatal lethality.

Their diagrams show that ROCK acts as a "molecular ruler" due to the length of its coiled coil. "This represents a new type of spatial control, and hence a new paradigm for kinase regulation."

They try to make a case for ROCK evolving at the origin of multicellularity, but it's little more than speculation. "Given the role of ROCK in regulating actin dynamics at focal adhesions, it is tempting to speculate that the emergence of ROCK together with the integrin-mediated signalling machinery was a crucial event in metazoan evolution." Exactly how machinery "emerges" by blind processes is not clear. One thing is clear: it is "evolutionarily conserved throughout the animal kingdom." In fact, it is "remarkably well conserved across more than 600 million years of evolution." That's hardly something to make an evolutionist cheer. We'll take their concluding automotive analogy instead. It sounds more like design.

Our findings indicate that the activity of the Rho kinases is regulated by the spatial positioning of kinase and substrate in the cell, much like the clutch in a car engine determines whether the car is in gear or not. The engine, or kinase, is always running, but the car, or cell, doesn't move unless the clutch, or substrate, is engaged. This represents a new paradigm in kinase-substrate regulation, whereby substrate specificity and corresponding activity are simply governed by the precise spatial positioning of enzyme and substrate.

So there you have it. Cells are inhabited by molecular motors and engines with precision parts operating under tight regulations. Now you can watch our video animation with a little more appreciation for what these amazing molecular machines do for all life, including you.

Jehovah's Justice prevails

Why accepting I.D may not necessitate an embrace of the supernatural.

ID for Materialists:
January 25, 2016 Posted by Barry Arrington under Intelligent Design

Teleology in biology is unavoidable.  Dawkins was surely correct when he wrote that “Biology is the study of complicated things that give the appearance of having been designed for a purpose.”  He even characterized that appearance as “overwhelming.”  Of course, Dawkins does not believe living things were designed, and his entire project has been to convince his readers that the overwhelming appearance of design is an illusion.

The problem with the “it is all a grand illusion” position is that as science has progressed – even in the relatively short time since Dawkins wrote those words in 1987 – it has become increasingly more difficult to believe.  Advances in our understanding of genetics have revealed a semiotic code of staggering elegance and complexity, the replication of which is far beyond the ability of our best computer programmers.  The more we know about the cell, the more it becomes apparent that it is a marvel of nano-technology.  Origin of life researchers, when they are honest, admit that even the most simple life is miraculously complex, and the likelihood of living things having arose spontaneously through chance interactions of matter is vanishingly small.  I could go on, but you get the picture.

What is an honest materialist to do?  One approach is to jettison materialism altogether, as famous former arch-atheist Antony Flew did.  Flew insisted that while he did not believe in a personal God, he was nevertheless driven to deism by advances in origins of life science.  He wrote that “[t]he philosophical question that has not been answered in origin-of-life studies is this: How can a universe of mindless matter produce beings with intrinsic ends, self-replication capabilities, and ‘coded chemistry’?”  That question remains unanswered.

Another approach is to retain one’s materialism while positing the existence of yet-undiscovered natural telic laws.  This is the approach Thomas Nagel took in his Mind and Cosmos: Why the Materialist Neo-Darwinian Conception of Nature is Almost Certainly False.  It occurred to me recently that this approach may well be the most likely way for honest, curious and courageous materialists to accept the evidence on its own terms and at the same time find common ground with ID proponents.

RDFish is one of the most voracious proponents of materialism (which he prefers to call monist physicalism) ever to appear in these pages.  In one of his comments he argued that biological ID is committed to dualism.  I responded by arguing that while biological ID is certainly consistent with metaphysical dualism, it is not necessarily tied to it, and it can be accepted even by physicalist monists.  See here.

In the linked post I argued that a physicalist monist can accept a version of ID through the following reasoning:

Design, meaning the capacity to arrange matter for a purpose, exists as a category of causation.
The capacity to arrange matter for a purpose can be reduced to any force that is capable of arranging matter in the present so that it will have an effect in the future.
There are at least two candidates for causal forces that have the capacity to arrange matter for a purpose. (a)  intelligent agents who have an immaterial mental capacity; (b) an impersonal non-conscious yet-to-be-discovered natural telic force.
The monist rejects the existence of intelligent agents with immaterial mental capacities, because the existence of such agents obviously entails dualism.
Instead, the monist can resort to the natural telic force.
If such a natural telic force exists, the existence of design as a category of causation is no obstacle to accepting the truth of monist physicalism.
This get us to:

If monist physicalism is true and a natural telic force exists, it is nevertheless possible objectively to infer design.
Therefore, design may be inferred under monist physicalism using the explanatory filter.
Therefore, ID does not depend on dualist metaphysical assumptions and can be accepted by a monist.
Which brings us back to Nagel.  In his book Nagel argued that Neo-Darwinism has failed to account for the data and is therefore almost certainly false.  But Nagel is an inveterate atheist and he is unwilling to give up on atheistic monism.  For Nagel, rejecting Neo-Darwinism does not entail embracing a dualist conception of ID.  Instead, he has posited what can be called a monist conception of ID by proposing the existence of natural telic laws.

In his book Being as Communion Bill Dembski writes that Nagel’s conception of teleology is completely consistent with ID writ large:

Nagel proposes to understand teleology in terms of natural teleological laws.  These laws would be radically different from the laws of physics and chemistry that currently are paradigmatic of the laws of nature.  And yet, as we shall see, such teleological laws fit quite naturally within an information-theoretic framework . . . his proposal, given in Mind and Cosmos . . . connects point for point with the account of information given in this book.  Indeed, Nagel’s teleological laws are none other than the directed searches (or alternative searches) that are the basis of Conservation of Information . . . of this book.

When orthodox Christian theist Bill Dembski says that he and vigorously atheistic materialist Thomas Nagel hold views that can – at a fundamental level – be reconciled, the rest of us should sit up and take notice.  And Dembski is not alone among theists in noting how Nagel’s views are compatible with their tradition broadly construed.  Christian philosopher Edward Feser writes:

[Nagel] rightly suggests that theists ought to be open to the idea of immanent teleology of the Aristotelian sort.  He may not be aware that medieval theologians like Aquinas were committed to precisely that.

Of course, Aquinas believed in the immanent teleology inherent in all things.  The only difference between Aquinas and Nagel is that Aquinas believed that God infused those things with immanent teleology; whereas Nagel believes the teleology results from a natural telic law.  But for our purposes isn’t the obvious teleology – that even Dawkins recognizes while denying – the important thing, at least as an initial question about the objective nature of things?

If theists and materialists can agree about the objective existence of teleology in nature, can we not also agree that – at least while we are doing science – questions about the ultimate provenance of that teleology can be held in abeyance?

I see a number of advantages of this approach for both sides.  For the materialists, the advantages are obvious.  They will be able to accept on face value the common sense conclusion their materialism has until now forced them to deny.  Teleology exists.  And at the same time they will not be forced to allow Lewontin’s dreaded “divine foot” in the door, because a “natural telic law” is not even an agent, far less a divine (or even conscious) agent.  For theists, as I have argued all along, ID can be adopted to both a monist and a dualist metaphysics.  And I, when I am not doing science, will continue to argue that God is the best candidate for the provenance of the teleology.  At the same time, by allowing for the possibility of a natural telic law, we ID proponents will not have the doors of science slammed in our face on account of the “creationism in a cheap tuxedo” argument.